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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/76760-0.txt b/76760-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..73b4bd0 --- /dev/null +++ b/76760-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5262 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76760 *** + + +Transcriber's notes: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. + +New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the +public domain. + + + +[Illustration: _On the Mountain.—Frontispiece._ + "I am going to have more than that, now I am about it," said Sarah.] + + + + ON THE MOUNTAIN; + + OR, + + LOST AND FOUND. + + + BY + + LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY + + AUTHOR OF "IRISH AMY," "OPPOSITE NEIGHBOURS," "COMFORT ALLISON," + "THE TATTLER," "NELLY; OR, THE BEST INHERITANCE," + "TWIN ROSES," "ETHEL'S TRIAL," "THE FAIRCHILDS," + "THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL EXHIBITION," "THE RED PLANT," + "PERCY'S HOLIDAYS," ETC. + + + —————————— + + + PHILADELPHIA: + AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION + NO. 1122 CHESTNUT STREET. + —————————— + NEW YORK: NO. 8 AND 10 BIBLE HOUSE, ASTOR PLACE. + + + + ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— + + Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by the + + AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, + + In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. + + ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— + + + + ————————————————— ———————————————— + WESCOTT & THOMSON HENRY B. ASHMEAD + Stereotypers and Electrotypers, Philada. Printer, Philada. + + + + CONTENTS. + + —————— + + CHAPTER I. + + FANNY + + CHAPTER II. + + SARAH + + CHAPTER III. + + CONSEQUENCES + + CHAPTER IV. + + THE STUMBLING BLOCK + + CHAPTER V. + + DANGER + + CHAPTER VI. + + AT MEETING + + CHAPTER VII. + + THE OFFENCE GIVEN + + CHAPTER VIII. + + SARAH'S PLANS + + CHAPTER IX. + + THE LOST CHILD + + CHAPTER X. + + ON THE MOUNTAIN + + CHAPTER XI. + + THE SEARCH + + CHAPTER XII. + + REPENTANCE + + + + ON THE MOUNTAIN. + + —————— + +CHAPTER I. + +_FANNY._ + +"GRANDMA, who was that old lady you were talking with, in the porch +after church?" + +"I don't know," replied Mrs. Lilly, rather absently, for she was +thinking of the sermon she had heard, and had to come a long way back, +as it were, to answer Fanny's question. "It was old Mrs. Merrill, I +suppose. Oney, we must send her down something this week—some flour and +butter and a good piece of pork or a chicken." + +"I don't mean 'her'," said Fanny, in a tone of great contempt. "As if +I cared for that old beggar woman with her poke bonnet as old as the +hills!" + +"If you don't care for her, you might," said Mrs. Lilly, in a tone of +some displeasure. "Mrs. Merrill never begged in her life, and she is +a good Christian woman, though she is old and poor. I desire that you +will never let me hear you speak in that way of any old person again." + +Fanny flounced in her seat and stuck out her lips, but she was too +desirous of having her questions answered to sulk as she sometimes did. + +"But I don't mean Mrs. Merrill, grandmother: I know her very well. I +mean that old lady with white hair put up in rolls at the sides and a +large thin black shawl." + +"Oh! That was Mrs. Cassell." + +"What! Mrs. Cassell, who lives up in the great house on the hill? Well, +I never should have guessed that." + +"Why not?" asked Mrs. Lilly. + +"Oh, because she was dressed so plainly and she seemed so familiar with +everybody. I thought Mrs. Cassell was very rich and aristocratic and +all that." + +"She 'is' very rich—richer than anybody about here, but I don't know +about the aristocracy. She is a very good, kind, charitable woman, and +everybody likes and respects her." + +"Then I suppose the lady and gentleman with her were Mr. and Mrs. Hugh +Brandon?" continued Fanny, paying little attention to her grandmother's +remarks. "I don't think he looks so very different from other people, +if he has written books." + +"How did you expect him to look?" asked Oney, laughing. "Did you expect +to see him with wings?" + +"They say he is very dissipated," continued Fanny. "They say he drank +and gambled so and treated his wife so badly that his mother sent for +her home. But she would not come without her husband, so the old lady +had to take them both, and now he doesn't do anything but lie about and +smoke and chew opium all day long." + +"What nonsense!" said Mrs. Lilly, in a tone of great displeasure. +"Mr. Brandon is, and always has been, a very studious, industrious, +religious young man. I have known him all his life. Who has been +telling you such a heap of slanders?" + +"I guess I know," said Oney, as Fanny did not answer. "That sounds a +good deal like one of Mrs. Leyman's stories. I guess Sarah told you." + +"Well, I don't care if she did. Mrs. Leyman heard it from Miss Clark, +who does Mrs. Brandon's washing sometimes, and Mrs. Cassell's too; so I +guess she knows all about them." + +"A good reason for telling stories about them, because she works +for them!" said Oney. "Miss Clark had better look at home. Her own +character is none too good, for that matter." + +"Let me never hear another such word from you, Fanny," said Mrs. Lilly. +"I have forbidden you playing with Sarah Leyman before now, and I tell +you again not to have anything to do with her. If I find you disobeying +me again, I shall punish you." + +Fanny looked very angry, but she had learned by this time that her +grandmother was not a person to be trifled with, so she relapsed into a +sulky silence, and did not open her lips again till they reached home. +Then she went up stairs and shut herself into her own room. And when +she was called to dinner, she answered that she did not want any. If +Fanny had been at home, her mother would have been very much distressed +by her refusal to eat. She would have come up stairs and tried to coax +her by promising all sorts of good things. And when Fanny had made +fuss enough, she would have given up and eaten her dinner with a good +appetite. No such thing happened on this occasion. + +"You had better come down and get your dinner, I guess," said Oney. +"You will be hungry before tea-time." + +"I won't," returned Fanny, without turning round from the window. "I +wish you would go away and shut the door." + +Oney did as she was desired. And no sooner had she gone down stairs +than Fanny stole to the head of them to listen. + +"She says she doesn't want any dinner," she heard Oney say. + +"Oh, very well, we will have ours," answered Mrs. Lilly. "You made a +chicken pie, didn't you?" + +"Yes, and some raspberry pies and gingerbread. Hadn't I better carry +Fanny something?" + +"No," replied her grandmother, decidedly; "let her come down if she +wants her dinner. However, I will give her another call." And she +opened the door so quickly that Fanny had no time to get away. + +"You had better come down to your dinner, Fanny," said she. "You know +we shall have tea quite late on account of going to the five-o'clock +meeting." + +"I don't want any dinner," said Fanny, sulkily. + +"Are you sick?" + +"No, but I don't want any dinner," replied Fanny, thinking that her +grandmother was going to give way and coax her, as her mother would +have done. + +"Very well," said Mrs. Lilly. And she shut the door without another +word. + +Fanny could hear the rattle of the knives and forks, and the +conversation between her grandmother and Oney about the sermon and +the Sunday-schools. It was clear that they were not going to send her +anything, and that nobody would suffer from her perversity but herself. +But still she could not make up her mind to sacrifice her pride and +come down stairs. She was very hungry, and very fond both of chicken +and raspberry pie, but nobody came to bring her any. + +She thought she would try another line of conduct, and she burst out +crying and cried as loud as she could. She cried till she was tired, +but nobody came near her. For the truth was Mrs. Lilly had grown weary +of Fanny's airs, and had made up her mind that the girl must, as she +said, be broken in. + +Finding that crying did no more good than sulking, Fanny presently +stopped. For as she had cried only to get her own way, she could stop +whenever she pleased. She went to the head of the stairs and listened. +She could hear Oney wiping up the dishes and singing— + + "Awake, my soul, to joyful lays!" + +And she could hear the gentle "creak, creak," of her grandmother's +rocking-chair, in which the old lady was apt to take a nap after +dinner. Everything else was quiet about the house, and out of doors +too, for that matter, except the chirping of the birds, the soft +sighing of the wind, saying "hush, hush," in the two great pine trees +behind the house, and now and then a low or bleat from the pastures. +She looked out of the window. + +"Oh dear, how lonesome it is here!" she said to herself. "If I ever get +back to the city again, I shall know when I am well off. There! It is +only two o'clock," as the distant sound of the church clock came from +the village. "Only two o'clock, and we shall not have tea till seven, +I know. We never do on Sunday nights, because grandma and Oney always +go to that stupid meeting at the schoolhouse. Oh dear, how hungry I am! +I shall starve if I don't have something before tea-time. I mean to go +down and ask grandma for something to eat. No, I believe I will ask +Oney first." + +Fanny went down to the kitchen, where she found everything in order and +Oney sitting by the shady window reading her Bible. Oney hardly ever +read any book but her Bible on Sunday, because she said she did not +have time to read all she wanted of it any other day. + +"Oney, I want something to eat," said Fanny, decidedly. "Get me some +raspberry pie and gingerbread and a drink of milk directly." + +"That isn't the way to ask for it," said Oney, quietly. "Besides, if +you want anything to eat, you must ask your grandma." + +"Nonsense!" answered Fanny, loftily. "Get me something to eat this +minute, Oney, or you will be sorry." + +"Maybe so," said Oney. But she did not stir. + +Seeing that commanding did no good, Fanny tried coaxing. + +"Come, Oney, do give me something to eat, and I will give you a real +nice present." + +"You must ask your grandma, Fanny," was Oney's only reply. + +"What is the matter?" asked Mrs. Lilly, coming into the kitchen. "What +are you crying for now, Fanny?" For Fanny was crying again louder than +ever. + +"I want my dinner!" said Fanny, passionately. "I didn't come here to be +starved, and I won't stand it. Give me my dinner, I say!" + +"You will not get it in that way," said Mrs. Lilly. + +Fanny screamed louder than ever. + +"Fanny, stop this minute!" said Mrs. Lilly, taking hold of Fanny's arm +in a way quite new to her. "Are you not ashamed of yourself?—A great +girl, fourteen years old! Do you think I am going to have my Sunday +broken up and the whole house disturbed for you? Stop this minute!" + +Fanny obeyed, for she was frightened. + +"Now, say 'Please, Oney, get me something to eat.'" + +"Please get me something to eat," repeated Fanny, meekly. + +"Get her a bowl of bread and milk, Oney," said Mrs. Lilly. + +"I don't want bread and milk; I want some pie," sobbed Fanny. + +"You cannot have any pie, and if you say any more, you will not have +any bread and milk," said her grandmother. "When you have eaten it, +go back to your room, and let me hear no more noise. You have made +yourself ridiculous enough for one day." + +Fanny ate her bread and milk and went back to her room, feeling very +crest-fallen indeed. Never in all her short life had she suffered such +a "taking down." She had been for twelve years the only child at home. +Her father was away at his business from morning till night, and her +mother never restrained Fanny in the least. + +Mrs. Lilly, the younger, had some new-fashioned theories on the +bringing up of children. She thought they should never be punished, +for fear of making them slaves, nor restrained from saying all they +pleased, lest they should become sly, nor checked in eating, drinking, +or play, for fear they should think too much of these things, nor +taught anything they did not wish to learn, lest their brains should be +overtaxed, or they should take a dislike to learning. She had practiced +all these theories on Fanny, and had not found much trouble so long as +the child stayed in the nursery. + +But when Fanny was twelve years old, she had a little brother born, and +by and by a little sister, so that she found herself a person of much +less consequence than she had ever been before. The faults which had +seemed to her mother of little or no consequence when she was alone +were now found very inconvenient and disagreeable. It was not at all +pleasant to have Fanny saying before company whatever came into her +head, and interrupting and contradicting her elders without scruple, or +screaming and throwing herself down on the ground in the public street +so that the policeman came to see what the matter was, or running away +from school to play about the street and spend in sweet things the +money she had taken from her mother's purse. In short, Fanny was found +to be a very naughty, troublesome little girl. And when her mother's +health failed and it was decided that she must travel in Europe, the +nurse told the doctor that there would be no use in Mrs. Lilly's going +abroad unless Fanny stayed at home. + +"She will keep her mother in a constant worry about her from morning +till night, and she will be in mischief from the time she goes away +till the time she comes home again. I would not have the charge of her +on shipboard for a thousand dollars, and if she is going, I am not. She +is more trouble than the babies ten times over." + +"I believe you are right," said the doctor, who knew Fanny well. "But +what can be done with the child?" + +"If her grandmother could take her, it would be the very best thing +that would happen to Fanny," said the nurse. "Mrs. Lilly is an +excellent, sensible woman. She would be kind to Fanny, and bring her +into order if anybody can. I don't blame the child so much as I do some +other folks, but she is just as hard to manage as if it were all her +own fault." + +"I will talk to Mr. Lilly about the matter," said the doctor. "I think +you are right, nurse. It will never do for Fanny to go with her mother. +And if the old lady is willing, she is just the person to take charge +of the child." + +There was a terrible scene with Fanny when she found that she was to go +to her grandmother's in the country instead of going abroad with her +father and mother. But her father was firm, and for once her mother did +not interfere. There was no help for it. Go she must, and she comforted +herself by thinking that at least she should do as she pleased at her +grandmother's, and be a very great lady indeed. + +But here, too, she found herself disappointed. Mrs. Lilly was very kind +to Fanny and very forbearing with her, remembering how much she had +been indulged at home. But she very soon saw that it would be necessary +to assert her own authority and make Fanny submit. She was sorry that +the contest should come on a Sunday, but there seemed no help for it. +And she hoped that Fanny would herself see the folly as well as the +naughtiness of her conduct, and try to do better. + +Mrs. Lilly was quite an old lady. She lived by herself in the old red +farm-house which stood in the very middle of her large farm, with no +company but Oney, the Indian woman whom she had brought up from a +baby, and a little boy whom she had taken from the poorhouse. The man +who helped manage her farm and took a part of it on shares lived in a +little house down on the roadside just by the gate of the lane that +led to the farm-house. Mrs. Lilly's house was a long, low, red wooden +building, and from the door one could see for a long distance, for the +farm lay high up on the side of the mountain. The house was very plain +and not specially convenient, but it was cool in summer and warm in +winter. It had abundance of closets and store-rooms, and from all the +windows up stairs and down there was something pleasant to be seen. + +When the slate quarry was discovered and leased for so much money, many +people thought that Mrs. Lilly would build a new house or come down and +live in the village, but the old lady did neither. When her friends +asked her about it, she said the old house would last her time; that +she had come thither as a bride more than fifty years before and had +lived there ever since, and that no other place would seem like home to +her. When people talked to her son, he said he should like very much to +have his mother live with him (which was quite true), but the old lady +had her own fancies, and he thought it best to let her have her own +way, which was a very good thing, as she would undoubtedly have had it +at any rate. Both Mr. and Mrs. Lilly were very loving and dutiful to +their mother, and wrote to her every week. Her son sent her plenty of +books and papers, and fine tea and coffee such as he knew she liked, +and her daughter made her pretty caps and shawls, and sent her rare +green-house plants, and everybody was contented all round. + +But Fanny was not satisfied at all in her new home. In the first place, +she was really lonely. She missed her school and the bustle of the +streets, and she was rather afraid of the solitude and of the great +dark mountain which rose so close and steep behind the house. Then, +so far from being considered a young lady, she was treated only as a +little girl, and made to behave better than she had ever done in her +life. + +Then, too, her grandmother was surprised and distressed at the child's +ignorance. For Fanny, though she had been to a very expensive and +fashionable school, was not as far advanced at fourteen as she ought +to have been at nine. She could not say the multiplication table, and +knew next to nothing of English grammar, though she had begun French +and Latin. And when her grandmother told her that the world was round, +and showed her by means of a ball of yarn and a knitting needle how it +turned on its axis, Fanny was perfectly astonished and could hardly +believe it. + +"Didn't you learn that in school, Fanny?" asked Oney. + +"There was something about it in the geography book," said Fanny, "but +I never understood it. I thought the world was shaped just like the +map." + +Still, Fanny was not unhappy. She liked the fresh air and the green +fields, she was very kindly treated, and she found even a certain +pleasure in being governed. She might have had a very nice time, if she +would have been a good girl and minded her grandmother. But this was +just what she could not make up her mind to do. + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_SARAH._ + +FANNY went back to her room feeling very much vexed and a good deal +ashamed. She did not at all like to be conquered, and she had certainly +had very much the worst of it in her contest with her grandmother. She +had not only failed in getting her own way, but she had made herself +ridiculous. Then, too, she had lost a very good dinner, a circumstance +to which she was by no means indifferent. + +"How I wish I had just gone down at first!" she thought. "But then who +would have supposed she would take one up so? Oh dear, I wish I had +never come here. It is all the fault of that hateful old nurse and +doctor. I know mamma would have taken me only for them, and I should +be having a nice time in London this very day, instead of being poked +up in this lonesome place with nobody to play with but Sarah Leyman. +And now grandma says I must not go with her. But I don't care, I 'will' +play with her. Mamma always let me play with anybody I pleased, and I +guess she knows. I am not going to be made a slave of just because my +mother is sick—so there!" + +"Fanny," called Mrs. Lilly from the foot of the stairs, "do you want to +go to the meeting to-night?" + +Now Fanny liked very well to go to the meetings in the schoolhouse, +though she had called them stupid. The walk was a very pleasant one +through the woods and along the banks of the beautiful little river. +They were sure to see squirrels and chipmucks and perhaps a wild +rabbit, and the lambs in the pastures were so full of their pretty +plays that Fanny was never tired watching them. Then the old ladies +who came to the meeting took a great deal of notice of her, so that +though she did not care for the services, she rather liked to go to the +Sunday and Thursday meetings. But to-night she was just in the humour +to "quarrel with her bread and butter," as Oney said. So when her +grandmother asked her, she answered shortly that she did not want to go. + +"You will be left alone in the house," said her grandmother. + +"I would just as soon be alone as not," returned Fanny. + +"To be sure, there is nothing to hurt you," said her grandmother, "but +I thought you might be afraid. However, you can do just as you please." + +"I mean to do as I please, thank you," said Fanny, under her breath. + +Mrs. Lilly, seeing that Fanny was still out of humour, said no more, +but shut the door, and presently went out with Oney. Fanny watched them +across the fields. And when they were quite out of sight, she went down +stairs into the pantry. + +"I don't care; I mean to have some of that raspberry pie, anyhow," said +she. + +But in vain did she search; she could find neither pie nor cake. + +Mrs. Lilly was not in the habit of locking up such things, but she had +reason to think that Fanny helped herself slyly to a good deal more +than was good for her, and she had taken the precaution before she went +out to lock the door of the milkroom. + +Fanny stamped her foot with vexation. + +"Just like her, the stingy old thing! I don't care; I will have some in +spite of her." + +"Some of what?" asked a voice behind her. + +Fanny started violently, and turned round in a hurry to see Sarah +Leyman standing in the kitchen door. + +"How you frightened me!" exclaimed Fanny, in an angry tone. + +"Yes, you jumped as if you had been shot," returned Sarah, laughing. +"I saw your folks going to meeting, and I knew you would be alone. But +what is the matter? What have you been crying about?" + +Fanny poured out the story of her wrongs with many exaggerations. + +"What a shame!" said Sarah. "Folks think Mrs. Lilly is such a good +woman, too!" + +"Well, I suppose she is," said Fanny, "but I think she is too bad to +treat me so. I know there are plenty of nice things in the milkroom, +but the door is locked and I can't find the key anywhere." + +"Isn't there any other key that will fit the door?" asked Sarah. + +Fanny brought all the keys of the house, but none of them fitted. + +"Can't we climb in at the window?" asked Sarah. "'I' can, I know." + +"You can't, bemuse there are bars across it." + +"Bother!" Sarah stood considering for a minute, and then, as if struck +with a sudden thought, she ran out at the kitchen door. + +Fanny followed her, and found her standing at the side of the milkroom. +This room was a "lean-to" built on the north side of the house, and two +or three of the clapboards were so arranged as to turn edgewise like +window-blinds to let the cool air in on the milk. Sarah was peeping +through these boards. + +"Just look there!" said she as Fanny came up. + +Fanny peeped in, in her turn, and saw a whole raspberry pie standing on +the broad shelf. + +While she was looking, Sarah slipped off the jacket she wore, and +thrusting her bare arm through the slats, she pulled out the pie and +held it up in triumph. + +"Well, I declare!" said Fanny, half pleased and half scared. + +"I am going to have more than that, now I am about it," said Sarah. + +And again putting her hand through the slats, she pulled out a large +cake of gingerbread. As she drew back her hand, however, she hit the +gingerbread against the edge of the slat and broke off a bit, which +fell into the milk. + +"That was smart!" exclaimed Fanny. "What will you do now?" + +"Let it alone, to be sure," replied Sarah. "But grandma will find it +when she skims the milk." + +"Well, let her. She won't know how it came there, will she? Here, hold +the things while I put on my jacket." + +Fanny did not quite relish Sarah's tone of command, but she did not +know how to object, and she did as she was told. + +"Come now!" said Sarah, when she had put on her jacket and closed up +the slats again. "Let's go up to the spring and have a good time." + +"But suppose grandma comes and catches us before we get through; what +shall we do then?" asked Fanny. + +"She won't come home this hour and more, goosey. Meeting is not out +till six, and it is only five now. Besides, she always stops to talk to +every one. Come along!" + +"I wish you would not call me names, Sarah Leyman," said Fanny, +angrily. "I am not used to it." + +"Nonsense, child! Who minds being called a goose? Come along, and don't +waste all the time." + +"I won't go up to the spring; it is too far," said Fanny. "You can go +if you like, and I will eat my piece here." + +"'Your' piece!" returned Sarah, in a taunting tone. "Your piece, +indeed! I should like to know how it comes to be yours. Do you think I +am going to steal pies and cakes for 'you'?" + +"Sarah Leyman, if you don't give me a piece of pie this minute, I will +tell grandma the instant she comes home." + +"Oh, you will? And tell her too how you told me where all the things +were, and how you got all the keys to try the door, and how you ran +away and went down to the village the other day, and then said you had +been playing down by the brook all the time. Oh," said Sarah, "you will +make a fine figure telling of me. Suppose I tell of you; what then?" + +Fanny burst into tears. + +"Oh, come, don't cry," said Sarah, changing her tone. "I was only in +fun—only you see, Fanny, I don't like to hear you talk of telling of +me as if I had been the only one to blame. Come, let us go up to the +spring and have a nice time, and I will tell you what I heard Miss +Clarke tell mother about the Brandons." + +Fanny did not feel at all satisfied, but she dried her tears and +followed Sarah through the garden and a small field beyond it, and then +a little way up the path which ascended the mountain, till they came to +the spring. + +It was a beautiful place. Just at the foot of a high, steep ledge of +rocks was a little mossy dell shaded by great pine and spruce trees, +mixed with graceful white-stemmed birches. The ground was covered with +moss and ferns, and scattered over its surface lay several large rocks +covered with lovely green and brown mosses. The spring came running out +of the very heart of the mountain, as it seemed, about four feet from +the ground, in a stream as large as a man's wrist. And making a pretty +little cascade as it fell down the stones, it slipped away among the +roots of the great trees to join the river below. Almost all day long +this little glen was in shadow, but as the sun got low in the sky, it +shone in and lighted everything beautifully. + +The girls sat down on a stone side by side, and Sarah divided the pie +with a knife which she took out of her pocket. + +"Take care! Don't drop the juice on your dress," said she. "Here, wait +till I make you a dish." + +"How will you make a dish?" asked Fanny. + +"You'll see," said Sarah. + +And going to the nearest birch tree, she cut round the bark and peeled +it off in a broad sheet. Then turning up the edges, she made of it a +very nice square dish and handed it to Fanny. + +"How pretty!" exclaimed Fanny. "But won't it hurt the tree to take the +bark off so?" + +"Oh no; it won't hurt the tree so long as you don't cut down through +the soft wood," replied Sarah. "I have heard Aunt Sally say that when +the country was new the school children used to learn to write on birch +bark." + +"How funny! Won't any other bark do as well?" + +"No; other trees won't peel as the birch does." + +"How much you do know about such things!" remarked Fanny. + +"Well, I ought to know. I don't know anything else." There was a +bitterness in Sarah's tone which made Fanny look up in surprise. + +"It does make me mad," continued Sarah, "to see how other girls can go +to school and have books at home, and all—such fools as some of them +are too—and I never have a chance. It is too bad!" + +"But you might go to school," said Fanny. + +"Yes, I look like it, don't I?" returned Sarah, scornfully. "My clothes +are so nice! I think I see myself going down to the Union school among +all the young ladies, and being put into the baby-room to spell along +with the little ones. I did use to go sometimes when we had the old +district school up at the Corners, but it is altogether another thing +now." + +Fanny did not know what to say to this, so she was silent, and went on +eating her pie. + +"I tell you what," said Sarah: "if I had your chance, Fanny Lilly, I +wouldn't be such a dunce as you are." + +"What do you mean?" asked Fanny, surprised. + +"I mean just what I say. Here you have been to school all your life and +had good people to bring you up, and you have had, I dare say, hundreds +of dollars spent on your schooling already, and what do you amount to? +I don't see that you know much more than I do, and you are just as +ready to get into any sort of mischief as I am. I suppose your folks +are pious and believe in the Bible, and you have been to Sunday-school +all your life and learned the commandments, and everything, haven't +you?" + +"Of course," replied Fanny; "I began to go to the infant school before +I can remember, and I could say all the catechism before I went into +the intermediate room. We have such splendid Sunday-school rooms at our +church in Boston—larger than the church is here, with a gallery all +round it for the Bible classes, and the walls all hung with pictures, +and with painted texts and with cushioned seats that turn like those in +the cars." And Fanny went on describing the beauties and glories of her +Sunday-school room, and, I am sorry to say, stretching the truth a good +deal in order to show Sarah how much superior was everything in Boston +to everything anywhere else. + +Sarah listened silently, but with evident interest. And when Fanny had +concluded, she said, simply,— + +"And after all that, you are not one bit better than I am." + +Fanny was very much "taken aback." She had not expected any such answer. + +"It just shows what all that stuff is worth," continued Sarah, breaking +the gingerbread in two and giving Fanny half. "After all that teaching +and preaching and reading the Bible and praying, here you are 'breaking +the Sabbath,' as old Mrs. Crane says, running away to eat stolen goods +on Sunday evening when your grandmother is at meeting. It just shows +that you don't believe one word of it, any more than pa does, for all +your talk. I wonder if anybody does?" + +"Does what?" asked Fanny. + +"Believe really in the Bible and all the minister preaches." + +"Of course," said Fanny. "My father and mother do, and so do I." + +"Oh, you do! Then, what are you here for?" + +Fanny had no answer ready. She had never regarded the matter in that +way before. + +"Well, never mind," said Sarah. "Here we are, and the pie is eaten up, +and there is no help for it now. I wonder how they are getting on at +the schoolhouse? I think I can hear Deacon Crane starting the tune this +minute." + +And Sarah began to imitate first the deacon's way of singing, and then +stammering Mr. Wilson trying to make a prayer, and so on, till she had +Fanny in a fit of laughter, though something told her all the time that +Sarah was doing wrong, and that she was equally wrong to laugh at her. + +"It is getting late, Fanny," said Sarah, checking herself suddenly. +"Hadn't you better be going home? Your folks will be back from meeting +by this time. Look at the sun." + +Fanny looked, and was startled to see how low it was in the sky. "They +must have been home ever so long," said she. "What shall we do?" + +"Oh, you needn't say 'we,'" returned Sarah, coolly. "It is nothing to +me. I've had my supper, and I mean to stay up here till the moon rises, +but I think you had better run along." + +"But grandma will see me," said Fanny. "She will have missed me by this +time, and what shall I say?" + +"Say you got tired of staying alone and went out for a walk, and that +you didn't know how late it was," returned Sarah, readily. "She won't +think anything of that. I have known her walk up here herself on a +Sunday evening." + +"But what shall we do with the plate?" + +"Hide it here," returned Sarah, putting the plate away in a kind of +little cavern under the rock on which they had been sitting. "There it +is safe enough, and we can have it to use again some time." + +"But what shall I say when they miss the pie?" + +"What you please," returned Sarah. "I guess you are as well able to +make up lies as I am to make them for you. Oh, you needn't look at me! +Didn't you tell me how you ran away from school at Boston, and all +the rest of it? Come, do run along! You won't make it any better by +waiting." + +There was no help for it, and Fanny went on her way, wishing a hundred +times that she had stayed quietly at home. As she entered the garden, +she met Oney coming to look for her. + +"Why, Fanny, where have you been?" asked Oney. + +"I got tired of staying at home and went out for a walk," replied +Fanny. "I didn't know it was so late. How long have you been at home?" + +"About half an hour. But come, supper is almost ready." + +Mrs. Lilly was standing at the back door when they came in. + +Fanny repeated her story, adding, "I am sorry I stayed so long, +grandma. I never thought how late it was till I looked at the sun, and +then I hurried home as fast as I could. There was no harm in my going +far a walk, was there?" + +Fanny spoke in such a natural tone that Mrs. Lilly was quite deceived. + +"Why, no, perhaps not, though you should not have left the house all +open. And besides, you know I like to know where you are. There is no +harm done, but I would rather you would not do so again." + +"I won't," said Fanny, feeling a little self-reproach at the kind tone +in which her grandmother spoke. "And, grandma, I am sorry I was so +naughty this noon, but I will never do so again if you will forgive me +this time." + +Mrs. Lilly was pleased that Fanny should thus confess her fault and ask +pardon of her own accord. + +"I am sure I forgive you, my dear," said she, kissing Fanny. "I thought +you would think better of it. Go, now, and get ready for supper." + +"Oh dear! I wish I hadn't done so!" said Fanny as she went up stairs. +"I wish I was good like grandma. I believe she is good, for all Sarah +says. Anyhow, it was all Sarah's fault. She made me do it." + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_CONSEQUENCES._ + +FANNY had only just come down stairs after washing her hands when Oney +came out of the milkroom with a very disturbed face. + +"Did you see anybody about before you went away, Fanny?" she asked. + +"No. Why?" + +"Because somebody has been here, and some not very honest body, +either," answered Oney. "The pie I set on the milk-shelf is gone, plate +and all, and a card of gingerbread beside." + +"That is queer," said Mrs. Lilly; "nobody could get into the milkroom, +because I had the key in my pocket all the time. I think you must be +mistaken, Oney. How many pies did you bake?" + +"Only two; one we had for dinner and the other I set on the milk-shelf +before I went out." + +"But nobody could have taken it, Oney, because the door was locked and +no one could get in without the key," argued Mrs. Lilly. "Are you sure +you baked two pies?" + +"Now, Mrs. Lilly, don't you think I know?" asked Oney, who did not +quite like being called in question. "Didn't you say yourself that the +pie on the grate was rather overdone, and that I had better heat the +brick oven next time?" + +"Very true; so I did," replied Mrs. Lilly. "Let me take a look." + +She went into the milkroom, and Oney and Fanny followed her, Fanny +thinking it would look odd if she stayed behind. + +"The pie stood just here," said Oney, marking the place, "and the +gingerbread here. I meant to set them up in the cupboard, but I forgot +it. And it is so odd that nothing else is gone. The loaf of cake is not +touched nor any of the cheeses." + +"The pie and gingerbread were taken from the outside," said Mrs. Lilly, +who had been using her eyes while Oney was talking. "Don't you see the +crumbs here on the shelf, and the juice of the pie spilled on the edge +of the slat? Somebody has turned the slats and put his hand through, +and that accounts for nothing else being taken. See, here is a piece of +gingerbread in the milk." + +"How sorry I am I went away!" said Fanny, speaking quite naturally, +for, I regret to say, she was no novice in the art of telling lies. + +"Why, yes, it is a pity, though I don't know exactly what good you +would have done," said Mrs. Lilly. + +"Probably if the thief had seen anybody about, he would not have +touched the things," said Oney. "The wonder is that, seeing the doors +all open, he did not enter the house." + +"Perhaps that was the very thing that kept him out," remarked Fanny. +"He might think that nobody would leave the house in that way. But, +grandma, I am sure I shut the door, and I will tell you how I know: +because I came back and opened it again to let the cat go in to her +kittens." + +"I noticed the open door the minute we came in sight of the house," +said Oney. "Who could it have been? Do you suppose Willy could have +meddled with them?" + +"Dear me, no! I hope not," said Mrs. Lilly, looking startled. "Willy +has been such a good boy lately, I should be sorry to think of his +going back to his old tricks." + +"Besides, he has been away all day," remarked Fanny. + +"He was down at the barn when we came home, for I heard him singing," +said Oney. "Here he comes now. Willy, have you been here before to-day?" + +Oney tried to speak just as usual, but of course she did not quite +succeed. + +Willy was conscious of something peculiar in her manner, and blushed up +to the roots of his hair. "Yes, I came up to get the milk-pails, but +the door was locked," said he. "Why?" + +"Some things have been taken from the milkroom—a pie and some +gingerbread," said Mrs. Lilly, adding, kindly, "but you need not look +so distressed. Nobody suspects you." + +But Oney was not quite satisfied. The truth was that she had begun with +a little prejudice against Willy because Mrs. Lilly had taken him from +the poorhouse, and besides that, on his first coming to live at the +farm, Willy had now and then been caught helping himself to sugar and +cake, and such matters. + +"How long have you been back from the village, Willy?" she asked. + +"I don't know; I should think about an hour," replied Willy. + +"And what have you been doing all that time?" + +"I drove up the cows, and then I came to get the pails, but the door +was locked. So I went down to the barn and did up my other chores." + +"Then you didn't come into the house at all, except to get the pails?" + +"Why, yes, I went up to my room to change my clothes and put away my +books." + +"And you didn't see anybody about?" + +"No, of course not. I didn't go round any, only right up stairs and +down again," said Willy, colouring more deeply than before. "Yes, I +know what you think, Oney. You think I got the things, but you are +mistaken; I never touched them. Come now, Oney," he added, in a quieter +tone and smiling; "it isn't fair to put everything on me because my +father wasn't very respectable. You wouldn't like to have me accuse you +of killing Deacon Crane's sheep because your father and grandfather +used to take scalps, would you?" + +Oney laughed: "That's so, Willy; I don't believe you had anything to do +with the theft. But the question is, who had?" + +"Well, we won't talk about it any more, or let it spoil our Sunday," +said Mrs. Lilly. "Come, Oney, let us have our supper, for I am sure +we are all ready for it, especially the children. Wash your hands and +face, Willy, and we will sit down." + +When Fanny had first come to the farm, her dignity had been very much +hurt by thus sitting down with Oney and Willy at the same table. She +had spoken to her grandmother about it, but Mrs. Lilly only smiled, and +said it had always been her habit ever since she kept house, and she +thought Fanny would have to get used to it. + +"But I am not used to it," said Fanny, loftily, "and I don't think my +father would like it at all. He is one of the richest men in Boston, +and my mother belongs to one of the very first families." + +"Don't be a goose, child. Your father and Oney were brought up +together, and as for your mother, she knew all my ways before she sent +you here. And when she comes to visit me, she always conforms to them, +whereby she shows her real good breeding. What is good enough for her +is good enough for you." + +That was all the satisfaction Fanny could get from her grandmother. She +consoled herself with thinking that, after all, Oney was not a common +servant, and that none of her fine friends need know anything about the +matter. + +After tea was over, Mrs. Lilly sat down in the door to enjoy the +beautiful summer evening. Fanny sat on the step at her feet, and by and +by Willy came and joined them. + +"How do you like your new teacher, Willy?" asked Mrs. Lilly. + +"Oh, ever so much," replied Willy, warmly. "Only think! He has been +to Jerusalem and to the Sea of Galilee—to the very places. He told us +to-day how he and a Scotch gentleman hired a boat and went out fishing +at night just like the apostles—to see how it would seem, you know. And +he described the places to us, and said he would show us some pictures +of them—I forget the name—the kind you look at through a glass, you +know." + +"Stereoscopic pictures," said Mrs. Lilly. "Mr. Brandon has been a great +traveller." + +"And he has seen the Dead Sea and Mount Sinai and Nazareth and +Bethlehem," continued Willy, with enthusiasm. + +"I don't believe it," said Fanny. "There are no such places now as +Nazareth and Bethlehem and those places in the Bible; are there, +grandma?" + +"Why!" exclaimed Willy. "Why, Fanny!" + +"To be sure there are, child," said Mrs. Lilly; "didn't you know that? +Jerusalem is still a city, though not like what it used to be, and so +are Nazareth and Bethlehem. Thousands of people go from all over the +world to visit them every year. I will find you a book of travels which +tells all about them. I must ask Mr. Brandon to show me his pictures. I +should like to see them very much." + +"It would make the story seem very real if one could see all the places +with one's own eyes," remarked Oney. "I am something like Fanny in +that. I find it rather hard to believe that there is such a place as +Jerusalem, where people are living and going about at this minute." + +"I don't suppose they are going about much just now," remarked Willy; +"I suppose it is about the middle of the night there. That seems +strange, too, doesn't it, Fanny?" + +Fanny did not answer. She was very much ashamed to have exposed +her ignorance before Oney and Willy. For the ignorance itself she +did not care. As they sat in silence for a few minutes, looking +over the fields, they saw a small, active figure come down from the +mountain-side and cross the pasture. + +"There goes Sarah Leyman," said Willy. "What a queer thing she is, +anyhow! I dare say she has been roaming over the mountains all day +long." + +"Maybe it was Sarah that helped herself to the pie," remarked Oney. + +"Possibly, though I don't like to think so," replied Mrs. Lilly. + +"She is none too good for it, or her father either," said Oney. + +"Poor thing! She has not had any great chance in her life," said Mrs. +Lilly, sighing. + +"Well, I don't know," remarked Oney. "To be sure, her father is a +downright wicked man and does not believe in anything, but her aunt +Sally, that she was named for, was an excellent woman. And think how +many people have tried to make Sarah go to Sunday-school!" + +"Yes, but there is the example at home all the time, Oney. And then she +has always been used to such a roving, out-of-door life that I suppose +she would really find it hard to settle down. It is a pity, for she is +naturally very smart, and might be as good a woman as the one for whom +she was named." + +"But if you think she is so smart and might make such a good woman, why +is it you don't want me to play with her, grandma?" asked Fanny. + +"Because, my dear, I think she is a great deal more likely to do you +harm than you are to do her good. She is very wild and reckless, uses +bad language, and has many bad habits." + +"She will make fun of anything, even of the Bible," said Willy; "and +she doesn't care any more about Sunday than her father does. I heard +him going on the other day down at the store, and he said he would as +soon do a day's work on Sunday as on any other day." + +"That wasn't saying much," said Oney, dryly. + +"That's just what Squire Holden told him. 'Sam,' says he, 'you ain't +very fond of doing a day's work any time,' says he. Then Sam began to +swear and to talk against the Bible, till Squire Holden told him either +to shut up or quit the store." + +"It is no wonder that poor Sarah doesn't amount to much," said Mrs. +Lilly, sighing again. "How thankful children ought to be who have good +homes and kind friends to tell them what is right!" + +"I guess we 'are' thankful," said Willy. "Ain't we, Fanny?" + +"Of course," said Fanny, but she did not feel what she said. It had +never yet entered her head or her heart to be thankful for anything. + +"But some children do have good homes and kind friends to teach them, +and yet they don't turn out well," remarked Willy. "They lie and swear, +and do all sorts of bad things." + +"Such children are a great deal more to be blamed than poor Sarah," +said Mrs. Lilly. "You know, Willy, the Bible says that to whom much is +given, of him will much be required. But it is growing late, and we +must be up early in the morning, so we will have prayers and go to bed." + +Fanny was not sorry to hear this, for she felt very uncomfortable both +in mind and body. She was mortified at having made such a display of +her ignorance. She knew that she had been very wicked, and she was +afraid of betraying herself or being found out. + +Besides, she began to feel very sick. She had eaten half a raspberry +pie and a large piece of gingerbread up at the spring, and did not +want her supper in the least, but the bread and honey and cold ham and +sponge-cake and coffee were all so good, and she was so afraid that +her grandmother would suspect something wrong if she did not eat as +usual, that she made a hearty meal. The consequence was that she felt +very sick and her head ached violently. She hastened to bed, hoping to +forget her troubles in sleep, but she passed a restless night, and in +the morning was too ill to get up. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_THE STUMBLING BLOCK._ + +FOR two or three days Fanny was pretty sick, and did not sit up at all. +She was really frightened about herself, was sure she had some dreadful +disease, and was very angry at the old doctor from the village for +saying there was nothing serious the matter. + +"I guess you don't know how badly I feel," said Fanny. + +"I guess I have seen other little girls who had made themselves sick +by eating too much of grandma's nice cakes and pies," said the doctor, +smiling. "A little medicine and a few days of toast and gruel will make +you all right again, and then you must be more careful. If you eat so +many sweet things, you will get the dyspepsia, and then I cannot cure +you." + +Fanny said no more, for she did not like the allusion to her having +eaten too much, and she was afraid of his asking inconvenient questions. + +She was better in a few days, but it was a whole week before she was +able to go out of the house. During this time she was in a manner +forced to think a little, for she could not read all the time, and +her grandma was very busy helping Oney in the dairy, so Fanny was +left to herself for some hours of every day. As she looked back over +the time she had been at her grandmother's, she was not pleased with +herself. She was conscious that, so far from making the impression +she had intended, she had not made herself respected by anybody. Her +grandmother had threatened to punish her, and, as she confessed, not +without reason. Willy showed himself a better scholar than herself, +and had been surprised at her ignorance, and Sarah Leyman, so far +from being impressed with her superiority, had declared that Fanny +was no better than she was, for all her schooling. All this was very +disagreeable, and made Fanny very angry at herself and everybody else +as she remembered it. + +Then again, Fanny's conscience was aroused. She realized for the first +time in her life what a naughty girl she had always been, and she +wondered, with a shudder, what would have become of her if she had +died. It was all true. She was not one bit better than Sarah Layman. + +"But I am going to be better," said Fanny to herself. "I mean to read +my Bible and say my prayers and attend to the sermon and learn my +Sunday-school lessons. Grandma says that Willy is a real Christian. It +is a pity if I can't be as good as that little poorhouse boy." + +This was not exactly a Christian spirit, but Fanny did not think of +that. She was as good as her word, however. She read three chapters in +the Bible every day, said all the prayers she could think of, and felt +very good indeed. + +She went to church and Sunday-school and to the meeting at the +schoolhouse, and was so sober and attentive that her grandmother was +much pleased with her, and told her so. This set up Fanny still more in +her own conceit, and she was wonderfully well satisfied with herself. + +"Fanny, do you Want to take a walk this afternoon?" asked her +grandmother one day when Fanny was quite well again. "It is very cool +and pleasant after the rain." + +"Yes, grandma," replied Fanny; "I should like it very much." + +"Then there are two people suited," said Mrs. Lilly, smiling. "I want +you to carry this basket down to old Mrs. Merrill, and you may stop at +the post-office and see if the papers have come. Put on your broad hat, +and don't walk to fast." + +"May I play in the grove a little while when I come back?" asked Fanny. + +"Yes, if you like, only don't stay too long or lose your papers." + +Fanny, set out on her errand feeling very well pleased. She went first +to Mrs. Merrill's and left her basket of eggs and other good things. + +"Dear, dear, how good your grandma is to think of me!" said the old +lady, much gratified. "And what a nice little girl you are to do +errands! I suppose you are Alvin's eldest girl, ain't you?" + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Fanny. + +"You look like your aunt Eunice," said Mrs. Merrill. "I mean as she did +at your age." + +"I never knew that I had an Aunt Eunice," said Fanny. + +"Oh, she died long before you were born, my dear. She was only sixteen +when she died—just the age of my Mary Jane. I remember as if it was +yesterday when we had our first Sunday-school in the village. Eunice +and my Mary Jane and Sally Leyman and Mrs. Cassell's eldest girl—her +name was Eugenia—they were all in one class, and the next year they all +joined the church the same Sunday. But Sally was the only one who lived +to be over thirty." + +"Was Aunt Eunice pretty?" asked Fanny. + +"Why, no, not so very—not what folks call handsome nowadays, but she +was so sweet in all her ways that nobody ever thought of her looks +after the first five minutes. I don't think I ever saw a better girl +than Eunice Lilly—such a consistent Christian, and yet nothing gloomy +about her, always ready to help on any fun there was no harm in, but as +firm as a rock when any one tried to make her join in what wasn't just +right. You will try to be like her, won't you?" + +"Yes, ma'am, I mean to try." + +"That's right. Here's your basket; and thank you very much, and your +grandma too." + +"I mean to be just like Aunt Eunice," thought Fanny as she walked up +the quiet street. "I mean to be so good that everybody will love me and +praise me, just as they did her, and I mean to set a good example to +Harry and Nelly, and make everybody look up to me. I mean to be very +good indeed, and perhaps somebody will write my life some day." + +Fanny's musings were interrupted by hearing her own name called. She +looked up and saw Mrs. Cassell leaning out of her carriage. + +"Isn't this Miss Fanny Lilly?" asked Mrs. Cassell, politely. + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Fanny. + +"I have some books that I wish to send to your grandmother," said Mrs. +Cassell. "I intended to drive up and bring them myself, but I find I +shall be engaged to-morrow. If you will get into the carriage and ride +over to our house, I will give you the books, and Hiram shall bring you +down to the village again." + +Fanny got into the carriage, and a few minutes brought her to Mrs. +Cassell's house. It was a beautiful old mansion built of dark red +bricks with trimmings of white marble, which is very abundant in that +part of the country. It stood a long way back from the road, and there +were many noble old trees about it. Everything about the house and +grounds was in perfect order, and Fanny thought she had never seen a +prettier place in her life. + +"I must ask you to come in and wait a few minutes," said Mrs. Cassell. +"Annie shall take you to see the kittens and Guinea pigs and the rest +of her pets. Annie, where are you?" + +"Here, grandma," answered a pleasant voice, and a little girl came out +of the next room. She was much younger than Fanny, being only about +seven years old. She was a blue-eyed, fair-haired, delicate-looking +child, and was very prettily dressed in a pink frock and white apron. + +Fanny peeped through the half-opened door, and saw that the room out of +which Annie had come was a large library. + +"This is Miss Fanny Lilly, my dear," said Mrs. Cassell; "Miss Fanny, +this is my granddaughter, Annie Mercer, from Detroit, who is come to +spend the summer with me." + +Annie came forward, like a well-bred little girl, to speak to Fanny. + +But Fanny, like many other girls who are bold in the wrong place, was +also shy in the wrong place, and made but a poor and awkward return. + +"You may take Fanny to see the kittens and Guinea pigs, Annie, while T +do up the parcels," said Mrs. Cassell, kindly. "I suppose you have done +all your lessons?" + +"Oh yes, grandma, and my sewing too," answered Annie. "I hemmed a yard +on my cap border, and Aunt Emma said it was very nicely done. I have +been helping Uncle Hugh cut the leaves of the new books. Come, Fanny." + +"Do you like Guinea pigs?" asked Annie as she led the way along the +verandah at the back of the house. + +"I don't know; I don't like pigs, anyway," answered Fanny. + +Annie laughed. + +"Oh, they are not real pigs, you know," said she. "They are little +wee things, and Uncle Hugh says they are more like rabbits than pigs. +See, here they are. I have to keep them shut up, away from old puss; +he would soon eat them. But he don't know any better, you know," added +Annie, apologizing for pussy. "He thinks they are some kind of mice." + +Fanny looked down into the box, and saw half a dozen little creatures +about as large as young rabbits, spotted with black, brown, and yellow. +All of them that were not eating were asleep, and all that were not +asleep were eating, after the custom of Guinea pigs. + +"Are they not pretty?" said Annie. "Old Mrs. Willson gave them to me. I +had only these two at first; all the rest are young ones." + +Fanny did not care much for pets, and she was mortified at the mistake +she had made. But she looked at the Guinea pigs and said they were very +pretty. + +"After all, they are stupid little things; you may pet and feed them +ever so long, and they never seem to care for anything but eating," +said Annie. "But I don't suppose they are to blame for not knowing any +more." + +"What will you do with them when you go home?" asked Fanny. + +"I mean to take one pair home with me for a little lame boy who lives +near our house, and give the others away. I will give you a pair if you +like. Don't take them if you don't want them," she added, seeing that +Fanny hesitated; "I shall not be offended a bit." + +"I guess I won't take them, then," said Fanny, "though I am much +obliged to you all the same. I am afraid I should forget to feed them, +or something." + +By this time Fanny began to feel at her ease, and, as usual, she began +to ask questions. + +"Do you learn lessons every day?" + +"Yes; every day but Sunday." + +"Who hears you say them?" + +"Aunt Emma, generally, and sometimes Uncle Hugh. I used to go to school +when I was at home, but they do not think I am well enough now, and I +am glad of it, because I like doing my lessons with Aunt Emma." + +"Where do you live when you are at home?" asked Fanny. + +"In Detroit, in Michigan. Oh, it is a long way from here. We were two +or three days coming, and only think, Fanny! I had a beautiful doll, +all dressed in a travelling suit, and with a little morocco bag and +all, and I let a girl play with it on the cars, and she stole it when I +was asleep. Wasn't it a shame? But she hadn't any mother, I know, and +perhaps she didn't know any better." + +By the time Mrs. Cassell called Fanny to take the books, the two girls +had become very good friends. When they went back to the parlour, Mr. +Brandon came out of the library with two or three pretty-looking books +in his hand. + +"Are you fond of reading, Miss Fanny?" he asked, pleasantly. + +"Yes, sir—some kinds," answered Fanny, doubtfully. + +"'Some kinds' means stories, I suppose?" said Mr. Brandon, smiling. +"I believe one of my Sunday-school boys—Willy Beaubien—lives at your +house, does he not?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"I should like to have you carry him this book, if you will be so kind; +and here is one you will perhaps like to read yourself. Tell Willy he +shall have another when he has finished this." + +"I wonder if Mr. Brandon knows that Willy is only grandma's hired boy," +thought Fanny. But she did not say anything, and the carriage being +ready, she took her leave. + +"Hiram had better take you home, I think," said Mrs. Cassell. "It is +a long walk, and up hill all the way. Drive to the entrance of Mrs. +Lilly's lane, Hiram." + +Hiram obeyed, and left Fanny at the gate of the lane. Annie would have +thanked him for such a service, but Fanny never thought of doing so. +She had never been taught to be polite to servants, and she considered +them as a being much below herself in the social scale. + +As she walked along, she was startled to hear somebody say, in a +laughing tone, "What a great lady, to be sure! She feels too fine to +speak to common folks." + +Fanny turned round in a hurry. + +The next minute Sarah Leyman jumped over the fence almost as lightly as +a deer, and walked along by her side. + +"Where have you been, all so grand?" she asked. + +"Nothing so very grand," replied Fanny, in a superior tone. "I dare say +it seems so to you, but I have often been in much finer carriages than +Mrs. Cassell's." + +"Oh 'dear'!" said Sarah, mimicking Fanny's tone. "How wonderful we are, +to be sure! I wonder we can condescend to speak to anybody, much less +to a common person like poor Sarah Layman. But never mind. Let's go +into the grove and have a good time. What books have you got?" + +"I am not going to play with you any more, Sarah," said Fanny, in what +she intended for a very impressive and dignified tone. "I don't want to +quarrel with you, and I am very sorry for you, but I am going to be a +Christian, and, of course, I can't have anything more to do with you." + +"Well, I declare!" said Sarah, and then she burst into a ringing fit +of laughter. "What next? I should like to know how long since you felt +so?" + +Fanny felt very much vexed, but she answered, in the same tone, "Since +I was sick. I was very low indeed, and the doctor thought I was dying +for ever so long—" + +"That's a big one to begin with," interrupted Sarah. "I asked the +doctor about you myself, and he said that there was nothing more the +matter than that you had eaten too much, and that you would be about +again directly." + +"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Fanny, though she knew that Dr. Perkins +had told her the very same thing. "Where did you see him, I should like +to know?" + +"I saw him go up to your house, and I waited for him at the gate and +asked him what was the matter. You see I thought about you, Fanny, +though you don't mean to play with me any more." + +Sarah said these words with an expression of real feeling, and then, +suddenly changing her tone, she added, "By the way, as you have +made up your mind to be a Christian, I suppose you began by telling +your grandmother all about your helping to eat the stolen pie and +gingerbread, didn't you?" + +"Of course not," replied Fanny, trying to keep up her tone of dignity +and reserve, but feeling all the time that she was making a signal +failure. "I didn't want to tell of you, Sarah, though I don't mean to +have anything more to do—with you," Fanny was going to conclude, but +she changed it into "such doings." + +"Oh, you needn't mind 'me'," said Sarah. "I wouldn't have you go on +telling lies and deceiving your grandmother for anything. Come to think +of it, I believe I will be a good girl and a Christian myself, and then +I suppose we can play together again. But you can't be a Christian +without confessing your sins, you know, Fanny. I dare say Mrs. Lilly +is blaming somebody else for the pie all this time. Come, let us go +together and tell her all about it directly." And Sarah quickened her +steps in the direction of the farm-house. + +Fanny looked at her to see if she were in fun, but she appeared quite +serious and determined. + +"You are not in earnest?" said Fanny, in rather a scared tone. + +"Yes, I am in earnest. Come, why don't you walk faster? You can tell +what I did, and I can tell what you did, or we can each tell of +ourselves. I guess that will be the best way, after all." + +"But I can't—I dare not!" exclaimed Fanny, stopping short. "Oh, Sarah, +do come back!" + +"Well, what now?" asked Sarah, turning and coming back, for she was +already some steps in advance. "What's the matter?" + +"You won't tell grandma, will you?" asked Fanny, trembling. + +"Why, of course," replied Sarah, coolly. "That's the way to begin, by +confessing our sins. When old Mrs. Burt joined the church last winter, +she went to Mrs. Hoyt's and told her that she had cheated her out of +three dollars by putting water in the milk she sold her, and paid her +back the money. Mrs. Hoyt said that was the right way to begin, and she +gave the money to the missionary collection. Besides, I dare say Mrs. +Lilly is suspecting some one else all the time." + +Fanny knew that this was true, for she had heard her grandmother say +she thought the pie must have been taken by one of Mr. Wye's children. + +"But—but I can't," she stammered. "I am afraid. I don't know what she +would do to me." + +"Didn't she ask you anything about it?" asked Sarah. + +"Yes, of course she did." + +"And you told her all sorts of lies, I suppose, and mean to stick to +them; and yet you call yourself a Christian, and think you are too good +to play with me!" said Sarah, in a tone of contempt. "Well, I don't +care; I mean to tell her, anyhow." + +Fanny sat down on a stone and burst into tears. + +Sarah stood by her in silence a minute or two. + +"So you don't want me to tell?" said she. + +Fanny only sobbed. + +"You will make your head ache with crying, and, besides, your grandma +will ask you what was the matter," said Sarah, presently. "Come, Fanny, +let's make a bargain. Don't you put on any airs to me and I won't tell +of you. But just as sure as you act again as you did just now, I will +go to Mrs. Lilly and tell her all about the pie and your running away. +I don't mind it when people are really good, like Mrs. Lilly and Aunt +Sally, but I do hate hypocrites. Come, will you agree to that?" + +"I suppose I shall have to," said Fanny, rather sullenly. + +"Well, then, kiss and be friends. And now tell me where you have been +this afternoon." + +"I can't stay now, Sarah, indeed I can't," said Fanny, rising. "I have +been gone too long already, but I will tell you all about it another +time," she added, seeing Sarah's face darken—"to-morrow, perhaps." + +"Well, come up to the spring to-morrow afternoon. And, Fanny, I wish +you would lend me a story-book. You have got ever so many, haven't you?" + +"Yes, I brought a whole boxful, and Mr. Brandon lent me this one +to-day." + +"Let me see it," said Sarah, taking it from her hand and turning over +the pages. "It looks nice; I would as soon have this as any." + +Fanny felt very much vexed, but she dared not say a word. + +"On the whole, I will let you read it first," continued Sarah, +returning the book. "There! Run along, and be sure you come to the +spring to-morrow, or I shall come down to the house and ask for you." + + + +CHAPTER V. + +_DANGER._ + +FANNY hurried along up to the hill, walking so fast that she soon put +herself out of breath and had to sit down and rest. + +"Oh what a hateful thing she is!" she said to herself. "I wish she was +dead; I wish the bull would get out and kill her when she is going home +to-night. I don't care if it is wicked; I do wish so. There isn't one +bit of use in my trying to be good when she is around. I don't care; it +is all her fault." + +When Fanny reached home, she found supper ready. + +"We were just going to sit down without you," said her grandmother. +"What has kept you so long?" + +Fanny gave a straightforward account of herself, except that, as it may +be guessed, she said nothing about Sarah Leyman. + +"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Lilly; "I am glad you had a nice visit at +Mrs. Cassell's, and it was very kind in Mr. Brandon to lend you and +Willy such nice, pretty books." + +"I wonder whether Mr. Brandon knows that Willy is a hired boy?" said +Fanny. + +"I presume he does. Why?" + +"Oh, nothing—only I was wondering whether, if he knew it, he would take +so much notice of him and lend him books, and so on." + +"And I wonder whether he would take so much notice of Fanny if he knew +how she talked about him and his wife?" said Oney. + +"I dare say it would not make much difference in either case," said +Mrs. Lilly, dryly. "Mr. Brandon is too much of a gentleman to think +less of a good boy because he works honestly for a living, or to mind +the idle gossip of two silly girls. Never mind, Willy; I hope Fanny +will know better some day." + +"Mr. Brandon does know," said Willy. "He asked me where I lived, and I +told him all about it, and he said it was an excellent thing, and that +I couldn't be better off. I hope it is no disgrace to be a hired boy, +or man either." + +"I hope not," said Mrs. Lilly. "Fanny's father was one." + +"Why, grandma!" exclaimed Fanny. "You don't mean to say that 'my' +father was ever a hired boy." + +"I mean just exactly that," said Mrs. Lilly. "He lived out three +winters at Judge Higley's, and worked for his board that he might go +to school, and afterward, when he was in college, he used to hire out +in harvest-time that he might help pay his way, for money was not very +plenty in those times." + +"I wonder if I could go to college?" said Willy, while Fanny suddenly +subsided and became very busy in buttering her cakes. + +"I don't know what should prevent you," said Mrs. Lilly, "but it is +early to be thinking about that." + +"But there is no harm in thinking about it, is there?" asked Willy. + +"No, my dear, not the least harm," replied Mrs. Lilly; "on the +contrary, there may be a great deal of good if you only think of it in +the right way." + +"What would you like to be, Willy—a lawyer or a minister?" asked Oney. + +"Neither, I think," replied Willy, soberly, and as if he had been +turning the matter over in his own mind for some time. "I think I +should like to be professor of a college, or else a State geologist, +like that gentleman who came here last summer and camped out on the +mountain with Mr. Brandon." + +"Well done!" exclaimed Oney, laughing. "You mean to aim high, anyway." + +"There is no reason that I know of why you should not be either," said +Mrs. Lilly, smoothing down Willy's black curls as he sat beside her at +the table. "A good many learned men have been worse off than Willy to +begin with." + +"I don't think I am badly off at all," said Willy. "I think I am as +well off as any boy I know." + +"Good for you!" said Oney, putting a large piece of cake on his plate. +"When you are president of a college, send for me, and I will come and +keep house for you." + +Fanny ate her supper in silence, feeling very much disgusted. + +"What a fuss they do make over him!" she thought. "And nobody takes any +more notice of me nor cares any more about me than if I was nothing at +all. I don't care. I'll 'make' them care about me some time. I mean +to be a missionary or something, and do a great deal of good, so that +every one shall talk about me and praise me. But there doesn't seem +to be much use in trying to be good so long as Sarah Leyman is round. +I wish I was in a convent or something, like that girl in my book who +went to the Moravian school in Germany. I mean to try, though. I will +be very good about everything else, and perhaps it won't matter so much +about Sarah. Grandma says we are all sinners, so I sha'n't be any worse +than the rest are." + +The next day, and for a good many days afterward, Fanny and Sarah met +somewhere about the farm—either up by the spring or in the grove by +the side of the river. Once or twice Sarah had tempted Fanny up on +the mountain-side by telling her of the wonderful stones and flowers +and mosses to be found there. But Fanny did not much like these +expeditions. The loneliness scared her, and so did the thick dark +evergreens, the great rocks, and the strange sounds she heard every +time she listened. + +"I don't see what you want to come here for," she said, pettishly, and +just ready to cry, one day when Sarah had coaxed her into visiting one +of her favourite haunts. "I think it is awfully lonesome and dismal, +and I don't like it one bit. One would think we were out of the world." + +"Now, that is just what I like," said Sarah. "It is so solemn, and the +wind makes such strange noises. But you must never try to come up here +by yourself, Fanny," she added, gravely. "Promise me that you will not." + +"No danger," said Fanny; "I don't like it well enough for that. Come, +do let us go down." + +Sarah agreed, and they walked down the blind path which led to the +spring. When they reached it, they sat down to rest, and Sarah took out +of her pocket the last book Fanny had lent her and began to read. + +"Don't read; it is so pokey," said Fanny. "I want to talk. You are very +fond of reading, all at once." + +"This is such a nice book," returned Sarah. "All the people in it are +so natural." + +She closed it, however, and they sat for some little time in silence. + +"Well, why don't you talk?" said she, at last. + +"I am listening," said Fanny. "I keep hearing such a strange noise, +like something growling or grumbling under ground. What can it be?" + +Sarah laid her ear to the ground to listen like an Indian. + +"It is the bull," said she, after a minute's silence. "He has got out +some how. We must run home as fast as we can. Now, don't begin to cry," +she added, sharply. "That will only hinder you." + +The two girls started for home, but as they came into the open field, +they saw the bull coming across the pasture straight toward them. Sarah +comprehended the situation in a moment, and had all her wits about her. +She was a girl of naturally strong mind, and her out-of-door life had +made her quick and self-reliant. Fanny wore a small red cloak. Sarah +snatched it from her shoulders, saying at the same time, in sharp, +clear tones,— + +"Now, Fanny, do just as I tell you, and you will be all right. Walk +away behind me—don't run—and get over the wall. I'll take to the trees, +and I bet I can dodge him, but never mind me. If I am caught, run home +and call somebody. There! Now, while I take across the field—'now'!" + +Fanny did as she was bid. + +With wonderful agility Sarah started for another part of the field, +running like a deer. When she had gone some little way, she turned, and +began shaking the scarlet cloak. The bull, attracted by the colour, and +taking it, as all bulls do, as a personal insult to himself, instantly +abandoned his intended chase of Fanny and ran at Sarah. But Sarah was +too quick for him. She dodged out of sight, first behind one tree and +then another, till she saw that Fanny was safely over the rough stone +wall. Then picking up a good-sized stone, and wrapping the cloak round +it, she threw it at the bull with such a correct aim that the missile +struck him full in the forehead. The next minute she went over the wall +at one spring, and came round to where Fanny was lying on the ground +crying as if her heart would break. + +"There! Don't cry. There is no more danger now," said Sarah, +soothingly. "Nothing is hurt but your cloak, and I guess you won't +get much of that," she added, peeping over the wall at the bull, who +was now expending all his rage on the scarlet flannel, tossing and +trampling it as if he had at last found the enemy he had been hunting +all his life. + +"It is all your fault," sobbed Fanny, finding her voice. "I should +think you would have been ashamed, Sarah Leyman." + +"Well, I declare!" said Sarah. + +"You needn't have given him my cloak," continued Fanny. "It was an +opera flannel, and cost ever so much money." + +"Which would you rather the bull should be tossing—me or the cloak? +It had to be the one or the other," said Sarah, very sensibly, and +naturally vexed at Fanny's unreasonable faultfinding. "I wonder what +you think would have become of you if I had not been here?" + +For the first time it occurred to Fanny that Sarah had saved her life. + +"To be sure, I don't know what I should have done," said she, "and I am +very much obliged to you, Sarah—only I don't like to have my pretty new +cloak spoiled." + +"Nor I, but you would rather it should be the cloak than me, wouldn't +you, Fanny?" + +"Of course," said Fanny; "but what shall I tell grandma?" + +"What you please," said Sarah, shortly. "Tell her the bull chased you +and you dropped your cloak, or tell her the whole truth. Why not?" + +"But then she will scold me for going with you," said Fanny. + +Sarah turned and looked at her with an expression of wonder and +contempt in her great black eyes. + +"I wonder what makes me care to go with 'you'?" she said, at last, in +an odd, choked voice. + +Fanny was silent. She did not know what to say. + +Sarah sat down on a stone and hid her face in her hands for a few +minutes. + +"I say, Fanny," said she, looking up suddenly, "let's you and I set +out to be Christians in good earnest, instead of only pretending to be +good." + +"I 'am' good now," replied Fanny, rather indignantly. "I read my Bible +and say my prayers every day, and I heard grandma say to Oney that I +had been very good lately, and I have, I know. I learned three hymns +yesterday of my own accord." + +"Oh! Then, of course, Mrs. Lilly knows all about your running away, and +about the pie and all?" + +"Why, no," said Fanny, hesitating. "I didn't think it worth while. What +would be the use? She thinks it was one of the Wye children, and she +may as well think so." + +"The use would be that you would be telling the truth instead of +telling and acting lies all the time," said Sarah. "Now, it is of no +use, Fanny. You know you can't be a Christian in any such way as that. +Don't she ever say anything about the pie now?" + +"Sometimes." + +"And don't she ever ask you, when you come in, where you have been and +what you have been doing?" + +"Why, yes, she almost always does." + +"And then you tell her the truth, I suppose?" + +"It is no business of yours what I tell her," replied Fanny, sullenly. + +"Maybe not, but it is of yours," said Sarah. "Don't you know, Fanny, +the Bible says no one that loves or makes a lie can go to heaven? I +remember Aunt Sally's telling me that years ago." + +"What makes you want to be a Christian, Sarah? I mean, what sets you to +thinking about it?" asked Fanny, trying to turn the conversation. + +"Partly the books I have been reading, and partly some old journals and +letters of Aunt Sally's that I found in a trunk up in our garret, and +partly—well, I don't know that I can tell you if I try. All the best +people I know are religious. Pa was going on the other day about pious +people being all hypocrites, and says I, 'Pa, where would we have been +if pious people had not helped us last winter when you broke your leg?'" + +"You would have an awful time with your father," remarked Fanny. + +"We have that now," said Sarah. + +"And you would have to go to church and Sunday-school and learn your +lessons," continued Fanny. "You couldn't run about all day Sunday and +weekday as you do now. You wouldn't like that at all." + +"I don't think I should mind," said Sarah, thoughtfully. "Running about +is all very well, but one may have too much of it. I'll tell you what, +Fanny: I will try if you will. Let us go together and tell the old lady +all about it, and then we can begin in earnest. She won't be hard on +us, I know." + +"I can't, I tell you," said Fanny, in an agony of alarm and vexation. +"She would whip me, I know, for she said the other day that she never +whipped pa but once, and that was for telling lies. And then they would +all despise me so. Oh, Sarah, don't! Wait till I go away, and then you +can tell her if you like." + +"Well, I won't tell of you, only of myself," said Sarah. + +"She will get it all out of you, you may be sure. She is so sharp! I am +afraid every day, as it is, that she will find me out." + +"Don't you suppose God finds you out, Fanny?" asked Sarah, in a low +voice. "Don't you think that, for all your hymns and prayers and Bible +readings, you are only making believe all the time? Aunt Sally used to +say he knew our very inmost thoughts." + +"Your aunt was a church-member, wasn't she?" asked Fanny, hoping to +divert Sarah's attention. "Mrs. Merrill told me something about her." + +"She was a good woman, if ever there was one in this world," said +Sarah, with feeling. "If she had lived, I know I should have been very +different, but she died when I was only eight. But come, Fanny, let us +go and see your grandmother." + +"I 'won't'! So there!" exclaimed Fanny. "And if you tell her, I'll run +away and go down to Boston all alone. I have got twenty dollars of my +own, and I can go on the cars; and I will, Sarah Leyman, if you tell +her one word. And besides, you can't tell her to-day," said Fanny, with +a sense of sudden relief. "She has gone away, and won't be home till +Saturday." + +This was not true, for Mrs. Lilly expected to be at home next morning. + +"If she isn't at home, of course I can't tell her," said Sarah. "You +had better go home now, Fanny. Be sure you tell them that the bull is +loose, because he may do some great mischief. Good-night." + +Sarah turned and walked rapidly away across the fields. + +Fanny watched her for a minute, and then went home. She informed Oney +that the bull was loose, that he had chased her and torn her flannel +cloak all to pieces, but she never said a word about Sarah Leyman. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_AT MEETING._ + +FOR a good many days Fanny saw nothing more of Sarah Leyman. She was +not at the spring or down by the river, nor did she come to the house, +as Fanny had feared she would. + +One day, however, Willy came in, bringing a pretty little birch bark +basket filled with beautiful wild raspberries. He said Sarah Leyman had +met him in the lane and handed him the basket, asking him to give it to +Mrs. Lilly. + +"What beautiful berries, and what a nice little basket the poor girl +has made!" said Mrs. Lilly, admiring the basket, which was indeed most +ingeniously made, and lined with fresh green leaves. "I wonder where +she found the berries? I thought they were all over." + +"Up on the mountains somewhere, I dare say," replied Oney. "They always +ripen ten days later up there. I wonder she dares run about as she +does, but she seems to have no more fear than a wild creature. They say +she is often gone whole days and nights together." + +"Grandma, why is it so dangerous to go on the mountain without a +guide?" asked Fanny. "Are there wild beasts to hurt anybody?" + +"It is dangerous for several reasons," replied Mrs. Lilly. "In the +first place, it is very easy for inexperienced persons to lose +themselves, and there are many dangerous places." + +"Such as what?" asked Fanny. + +"Such as precipices and deep cracks between the rocks into which one +might fall and never be found again, and bogs in which you might be +smothered and swallowed up in the mud. Then, in the upper part of the +mountain, there are often sudden fogs and showers and cold winds which +would chill you to the bone in five minutes." + +"Are there any wild beasts?" + +"Not on this side, though even here, I suppose, one might meet a bear +or a wildcat now and then. But on the other side they say there are +both bears and panthers, besides plenty of rattlesnakes, though I have +not heard of any being killed very lately. But the mountain is a very +dangerous place, and you must never go up alone as Sarah does. It is a +thousand pities the poor child has not a better home." + +"What is the matter with her home?" asked Fanny. + +"Well, her father is a bad man, to begin with. He drinks very hard at +times; and though he is a skilful workman, he will never do a day's +work as long as he can help it. His mother is—well, I don't mean to +be hard upon her," said Mrs. Lilly, "but the truth is, she is nothing +but a nuisance—an idle, gossiping, tale-bearing, mischief-making +slattern. If she spent half the time in taking care of her house and +family that she does in running about the village, picking up and +repeating slanders and gossiping with old Miss Clarke, she might keep +things going on well enough. But as it is, they never have anything +comfortable or decent from one year's end to another." + +"Who was Sarah's aunt Sally?" asked Fanny. + +"She was Mr. Leyman's sister, but as different from him as light from +darkness. A better woman never breathed, and while she lived the family +were somewhat respectable. She used to do tailoring and dressmaking, +and sometimes she went out nursing. She was one of the best hands in a +sick-room that ever I saw." + +"What did she die of?" asked Fanny. + +"Of hard work principally—of toiling night and day to support her great +lazy brother and his family. I never saw a child grieve so at a death +as Sarah did for her aunt. She was only eight years old, poor little +wild thing! But when they came to screw down the coffin, she screamed, +and threw herself upon it and would not let anybody touch it, and they +had to take her away by force. Does Sarah ever say anything about her +aunt?" + +"I don't know," answered Fanny, coolly. "I never see Sarah nowadays. +You told me not to play with her, so I don't." + +Willy's black eyes shot a glance at Fanny which said a great deal, but +he spoke not a word. + +Fanny felt the look, however, and wondered how much Willy knew, and +whether he would be likely to tell of her. + +The next Sunday, as they were coming home from church in the village, +Mrs. Lilly said to Fanny, "We are going to have some company this week, +Fanny. Mrs. Cassell and Mr. and Mrs. Brandon and Annie are coming up +here to spend the day on Wednesday, and perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Brandon +may stay a few days." + +"Oh how nice!" said Willy. + +And Oney added, "It will seem like old times to have Mr. Brandon about +the house again. But I must be careful, now that he has grown such a +great man. As likely as not, I shall be calling him Hugh, the first +thing." + +"I dare say it wouldn't do any harm if you did," said Mrs. Lilly. + +"Where in the world did 'you' ever know Mr. Brandon?" asked Fanny, with +an emphasis on the "you" which was not very polite, to say the least. + +"He used to live with us once," replied Oney. "He was rather a delicate +boy, and his father used to send him to the mountains in summer, and he +spent all his college vacations with us after his father died. Don't +you remember the description of our house in his book—I don't remember +the name, but that story about the war?" + +"I never read any of Mr. Brandon's books," said Fanny. + +"Why, Fanny!" exclaimed Willy, who had an untamable appetite for books, +and who was perpetually astonished by Fanny's indifference to them. +"Why, it has lain on the table all summer." + +"Well, what of that?" returned Fanny, tartly. "Is that any reason why I +should read it?" + +"It would be a reason with me," said Willy; "besides, it is so +interesting." + +"There's an odds in folks, you see, Willy," said Oney. "But hadn't you +better study it up, Fanny? Mr. Brandon might ask you some questions +about it." + +"Dear me! I hope not," said Fanny, in alarm. "Do you think he will, +grandma?" + +"No, my dear. Authors are not very apt to talk about their own books." + +"Do you think he would be offended if I were to ask him about some +things in his other book—I mean the one about South America?" asked +Willy. + +"No; I dare say he would be pleased to find that you had read his book +so carefully." + +"I am glad of that, because there are ever so many things that I want +to know more about," said Willy. "I mean to get the book and look it +over again." + +"Well, I shouldn't think you would want to, Willy," said Fanny, who +had her private reasons for being alarmed at Willy's announcement. "It +would look like putting yourself forward, and I am sure Mr. Brandon +would not like it. He isn't used to associating with all sorts of +people," said Fanny, with a grand air. "He associates with the best +families in Boston." + +"Oh!" said Willy. "Well, I don't know about the first families in +Boston, but I don't mean to keep any company I am ashamed to own, +Fanny." + +This hint alarmed Fanny, and she did not speak another word all the way +home; she was afraid Willy knew too much. + +That evening Fanny went with the rest to the five-o'clock meeting in +the schoolhouse down the road. They were rather early, and took their +usual seats on the side of the room. Fanny liked this, because she +could watch all who came in, and make her remarks on their dress and +manners. The room was pretty full at last, for it was a cool, pleasant +evening, and quite a number of people walked up from the village to +attend the service. + +Just as the first hymn was being sung, Sarah Leyman came in and slipped +into a seat near the door. She had made herself as neat as she knew +how, and looked very handsome, for in spite of her dark skin, made +darker by exposure to all sorts of weather, Sarah was a beautiful girl. +She behaved with perfect propriety; and when she raised her head after +the first prayer, Fanny felt sure that she had been crying. + +"Well, I declare!" said Fanny to herself. "I wonder what she will do +next? I wonder if she really means to do as she said! Oh dear! I am +sure I hope not, for then she will go and tell grandma." + +And then for one moment Fanny saw how utterly mean and selfish she +was, and what a wicked and false life she was leading. That momentary +glimpse of herself might have done Fanny a great deal of good and saved +herself and others a great deal of distress if she had profited by +it. But she did not. She only went on thinking how she could possibly +manage to keep Sarah and her grandmother apart. + +"Were you not surprised at seeing Sarah Leyman at meeting?" asked Oney +of Mrs. Lilly as they walked home together. "I should as soon have +expected to see one of the wild eagles off the mountain. But she looked +and behaved very well, didn't she?" + +"Very well; and I was glad to see her there," replied Mrs. Lilly. "I +hope it is a good sign. I must try to have a talk with her some time. I +have a Testament that her aunt gave to my Eunice when they were girls +together; I think I will give it to Sarah. Perhaps she would read it +because it was her aunt's." + +"I wouldn't, grandma," said Fanny; "she would only make all sorts of +fun of it, as she does of everything about religion. That's one reason +why I didn't want to play with her any more. She talked so she scared +me." + +"I am sorry to hear that," said Mrs. Lilly. + +"That's all she went to meeting for, I know," continued Fanny, growing +bolder, and determined at all hazards to prevent any chance of an +understanding between her grandmother and Sarah. "She will go home and +mimic the minister and deacon and poor Mr. Willson, and make all sorts +of fun of them. She has listened under the window on purpose before +now." + +"Who told you?" asked Oney. + +"She told me herself," returned Fanny, boldly. "I used to play with +her when I first came here, and I did play with her two or three times +after grandma forbade me, but I have not done it this long time—not +since I have been trying to be a good girl. If you talked to her ever +so kindly, she would only go away and make fun of you." + +"Well, that wouldn't hurt me," said Mrs. Lilly, "and we can never know +what words will do good. I don't like to think that any girl can be a +hardened sinner at fifteen, and especially one who was the child of so +many prayers as Sarah." + +"Mrs. Lilly," said Willy, "don't you think that a person who pretended +to be good and religious all the time that he knew he was wicked would +be a great deal harder to convert than one like Sarah Leyman?" + +"No doubt," returned Mrs. Lilly. "Especially if the hypocrite were +self-deceived." + +"I suppose hypocrites usually do impose on themselves more or less," +remarked Oney. + +"Almost always to some degree, I presume. A man who is destroying his +neighbour's body and soul by selling liquor, may very likely make +himself think that he is quite a good man because he gives away money +liberally; and another, who will cheat half an ounce in every pound he +sells, comforts himself by thinking that he keeps Sunday carefully, +and always has family prayers; and so of other things. I would rather +undertake to make an impression on poor Sarah, or even on Sam Leyman +himself, than on such a person. But I will certainly speak to Sarah if +I have a chance. It can at least do no harm. Oney, there is Squire Howe +before us, and I want to speak to him about drawing Mrs. Merrill some +wood. He said he would give her a load any time, and I dare say it will +be more convenient for him to do it before harvest." + +Mrs. Lilly and Oney walked on quickly, and no sooner were the children +alone together than Willy broke out with more than his usual vehemence. + +"Fanny Lilly, I do think that you are the very meanest creature that +ever lived in this world. Nobody but a girl could be so mean as +you are. You are as much worse than Sarah Leyman than she is worse +than—than Grandma Lilly," said Willy, finishing up with a grand climax. + +"Why, Willy, what is the matter now?" asked Fanny. "What have I done to +you?" + +"To me! You haven't done anything to me, only you are always hinting +about my being a hired boy and coming from the poorhouse, and Mr. +Brandon said himself that nobody but a snob would throw such a thing in +a fellow's face. But I don't care so much about that. It is the way you +treat Sarah Leyman that makes me despise you. As if I didn't know how +you have been with her day after day, going over to the Corners with +her, and all! As if I didn't know how she saved you from the bull! And +you never said one word about her, though it is the greatest wonder in +the world she wasn't killed." + +"I should like to know how you found out anything about it," said +Fanny, trying to speak in an unconcerned manner. + +"Because I saw it; that's all." + +"I think you might have come to help us, than, instead of watching and +spying," said Fanny. + +"I did come, but I was too late. I was up in the barn-loft and saw the +whole performance, but before I could get to you, it was all over. So I +went to find Mr. Wye and tell him about the bull. And after that, you +abuse her behind her back, and don't want your grandma to show her the +least kindness or even speak a good word to the poor girl. I suppose +you are afraid she will find out some of your secrets. I always thought +you knew more about that pie than you chose to tell." + +Fanny was very angry, but she controlled herself; and answered, +quickly, "You are very much mistaken, Willy, as you will see when you +know all about it. I only met Sarah by accident that day. The only +reason that I didn't tell grandma and Oney how she saved me from the +bull was that she made me promise not to say a word about it, because +she said she left the bars down, and let out the bull herself. All +I said about her making fun of religion was every word true, only I +didn't tell it half as bad as it was, because I didn't like to repeat +such stuff, and because I didn't want to tell grandma how Sarah made +fun of her for praying in the meeting Thursday evening, and for sitting +at the table with a dirty nigger, like Oney. Those were her very words." + +"Oney isn't a nigger, and if she was, she couldn't help it; and I don't +think nigger is a very pretty name to call any one," said Willy. + +"Nor I; and that wasn't the worst she said, by a great deal. As for +the pie," continued Fanny, feeling that she was "in for it," and that +a few more lies would not make much difference—"as for the pie, you +are right, Willy. I do know—or at least I have a very good guess—where +it went, but I wasn't going to say what I thought when Sarah and I had +played together. I would like to have Sarah a good girl as well as +anybody, and I have talked to her myself, but there is no use in it. +She only makes fun of me, and I don't want her to make fun of grandma. + +"I know I have hurt your feelings, sometimes, Willy, but I never meant +to do it, and I beg your pardon. You see things are very different here +from what they are in Boston. There were two girls who came to our +school last winter, and everybody liked them at first, but by and by +the girls found out that their mother was a dressmaker, and after that +a good many of the scholars would not speak to them. I heard Cousin +Emma tell of a gentleman who refused to be introduced to a young girl +at her house because he thought she was not genteel enough." + +"If I had been master of the house, he would have seen the outside of +it pretty suddenly," said Willy, who had the instincts of a gentleman. +"Besides, I know all Boston people are not like that. Those gentlemen +who came up and camped out on the mountain last summer were as polite +and pleasant to everybody as they could be." + +"Well, anyhow, that was the reason I didn't like to see Sarah at +meeting, because I knew why she had come," persisted Fanny, returning +to the first subject. "Of course I am thankful to her for saving me +from the bull, though she got me into the scrape in the first place, +but that doesn't prevent me from seeing her faults." + +"Humph!" said Willy, not more than half satisfied. "Well, anyhow, I +hope Grandma Lilly will have a real good talk with her." + +"And so do I, because, after all, it won't hurt grandma if Sarah does +make fun of her, and perhaps grandma may do her some good," said Fanny. +But in her heart she was determined that this talk should never take +place if she could help it. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_THE OFFENCE GIVEN._ + +THE next day, and the next, Fanny went up to the spring and down to the +grove, but she could see nothing of Sarah. + +The next afternoon she was sent on an errand to the Corners. She went +"'cross-lots," as they say; and passing the end of Sam Leyman's garden, +she saw Sarah sitting at work on the back doorstep and called to her. + +"Is that you, Fanny?" exclaimed Sarah, jumping up and coming to meet +Fanny with an expression of real pleasure on her face. "Where are you +going?" + +"Over to the Corners for grandma. Don't you want to go with me?" + +"I am afraid Mrs. Lilly wouldn't like it," said Sarah, hesitating in a +way very unusual with her. + +"Seems to me you have taken a very sudden fit of goodness," said Fanny, +not at all pleased. "I wonder how long you have been so particular? +Ever since you went to meeting the other night, I suppose. But do come +a little way with me. I want to see you ever so much." + +"Well, I don't care." + +"I went down to the grove yesterday on purpose to find you," said +Fanny, in rather an injured tone, as they walked across the pasture +together. "I thought you would certainly be there. Why didn't you come?" + +"Well, for two or three reasons; I was busy at home, for one thing, +mending and washing Ally's clothes, and trying to patch up some of my +own old frocks, so as to be a little more decent. And besides, Fanny, +to tell you the truth, I thought it would be rather mean after your +grandma spoke to me so kindly Sunday night." + +"Oh yes; very kindly indeed—to your face," said Fanny, sneeringly. + +"What do you mean?" asked Sarah. + +"Oh, nothing—only Oney said she wondered what had brought 'that' Sarah +Leyman to meeting, and grandma said she presumed you had only come to +make fun of everything and everybody, and she thought you had better +stay away, at least till you had something decent to wear." + +"Did Mrs. Lilly say that?" asked Sarah, in a low tone. + +"She said a great deal more than that," replied Fanny, "and so did +the rest of the people?" And she proceeded to repeat a number of +contemptuous speeches which she professed to have overheard, till she +was stopped by Sarah's throwing herself on the ground and bursting out +into a passionate fit of crying. + +"What is the matter?" asked Fanny, surprised and rather alarmed at the +storm she had raised. "What are you crying about?" + +"I don't care so much for the rest of them," said Sarah, sitting up +with her black eyes flashing through her tears. "But Mrs. Lilly that I +thought was so good, and that spoke to me so kindly! I don't care; I +never will believe in anybody's goodness again. Fanny, are you telling +me the truth? Was your grandma really so mean and wicked as that?" + +"I don't see anything so mean and wicked," said Fanny, rather scared, +but not at all understanding Sarah's state of mind. "She said what she +thought, I suppose." + +"When did she say what she thought, when she was telling me to my face +that she was glad to see me and hoped I would come again, or when she +was talking against me behind my back, and saying she should think I +would be ashamed to show myself? Come now, Fanny! She did not really +say all that. You are making it up to tease me, I know." + +"You can ask Willy, for he heard her," said Fanny, determined to stand +her ground, but beginning to wish she had not said anything. + +"I have a great mind to go and ask Mrs. Lilly herself," said Sarah. + +"You will get into a scrape if you do, I can tell you," said Fanny, +knowing that if Sarah and her grandmother came together, they would +soon arrive at an understanding. "Grandma knows that it was you who let +out the bull." + +"It was 'not' me!" exclaimed Sarah, indignantly. "I 'never' leave the +bars down, and hardly ever go through them, and I had not seen the bull +that day." + +"Well, anyhow, she thinks you did, and she is very angry about it. She +said if she caught you, she would have you sent where you would be +taken care of and kept out of mischief. And Mrs. Crane said you would +be a great deal better off in the asylum, and that grandma would be +doing a good turn to everybody." + +"I should like to see them put me in the asylum!" exclaimed Sarah. "I +never will go there. I will kill myself or somebody else first." And +down went her head on the grass again in a tempest of grief and anger. + +"I don't believe there is one single good person in all the world," +she said, through her sobs. "I wonder whether there is anything good +anywhere? If it wasn't for poor Ally, I would go and jump into Pope's +hole this very day, and so be dead and buried at the same time." + +Ally was Sarah's younger sister, and her special pet. + +"I wonder if Aunt Sally was just such a hypocrite as your grandmother?" +continued Sarah, with a fresh burst of grief. "I wonder if all her +goodness was just lies and pretence?" + +"You shall not call my grandmother a hypocrite, Sarah Leyman; I should +think you would be ashamed." And then Fanny stopped suddenly, for it +occurred to her that it was herself who had given her grandmother such +a character, and not Sarah. She could not in the least understand the +cause of Sarah's excessive grief, and thought she was only angry at +being laughed at. + +"Oh come, never mind," said she, presently. "Why, it isn't anything so +very dreadful; and besides, if you want to come to meeting, you can +come, for all them." + +"I shall never come again, never," said Sarah, sitting up and wiping +her eyes. "I did think that night I would try to be a Christian. I made +up my mind to it; I have said my prayers ever since, and I was going to +ask you to give me or lend me a Testament to read myself and to teach +Ally out of. Father won't have a Bible in the house, if he knows it, +but I would keep it hidden away where he could not find it. But it is +all over now. There is no use in trying." + +The tone of hopeless despair in which Sarah said these words made its +way even into Fanny's blunt feelings. She began to feel a little sorry +for what she had done. + +"Oh, I wouldn't say so," said she; "I wouldn't give it all up for +that—just because grandma isn't perfect. Just keep on and be good all +the same. I do." + +"You do!—You!" said Sarah, in a tone of contemptuous wonder. "Fanny +Lilly, do you really think you are a good girl?" + +Her tone and words made Fanny wince, but she stood her ground. + +"Why, yes, I do," she replied. "I read my Bible and say my prayers +every day, and I have been reading ever so many good books. I learned +two hymns only yesterday. If that isn't being a good girl—" + +"Well, it isn't—not according to my notion," said Sarah. "That would +not be my way of being good. Fanny," she added, with sudden energy, "if +you tell me that all you have said is just made up to tease me, I will +be your friend for ever, and I will do anything in the world for you. I +don't care; I mean to ask Mrs. Lilly about it, anyhow." + +"Well, you can do as you please, of course," said Fanny, affecting an +unconcern which she by no means felt. "I shouldn't think you would like +to be taken and shut up with all those poorhouse children, and never +see Ally nor anybody again, but if you do, I don't know why I need +care. I went to see the asylum with grandma, and it did not look very +pleasant, I tell you." + +The asylum spoken of by Fanny was one for poor children which had been +established at R— by the joint efforts of two counties. The children of +paupers were carried to this asylum instead of the poorhouse, and were +taught and cared for. + +"Besides, I shouldn't know whether she told the truth or not if she +spoke ever so kindly to me," said Sarah. "I shall never know whether +anybody is true again, or anything, for that matter. Well, let it go. I +dare say it is all nonsense, as pa says, and that nobody cares whether +we are good or bad. Come, tell me the news. What has happened?" + +"Nothing very particular that I know of, only old Mrs. Cassell and her +granddaughter and Mr. and Mrs. Brandon are coming up to our house to +spend the day on Wednesday, and Mr. and Mrs. Brandon are going to stay +for a visit. Oney is making all kinds of nice things. Oh, by the way, +Sarah, I want that volume of Mr. Brandon's travels that I lent you. +Willy has been hunting the house over for it." + +"I'll get it when I go home," said Sarah. "He's another, I suppose." + +"Another what?" asked Fanny. + +"Another of the hypocrites," said Sarah. + +"I didn't know he pretended to be anything so very good." + +"Don't he? I met him up on the mountain last week. He was looking for +wild flowers, and I showed him some kinds he had never seen before; and +didn't he talk 'good'? I thought he was a wicked young man before, and +so I told him." + +"Oh, Sarah, you never told Mr. Brandon all that stuff?" + +"Yes, I did; and he only laughed and said, 'Don't be in such a hurry to +believe evil of people you don't know, my girl. Anybody as bright as +you ought to have something better to think about than idle, gossiping +stories.' And then I told him I was reading his book, but I couldn't +understand it very well. Oh, we had a real nice talk, I can tell you. +But I dare say he is all humbug, like the rest of them. Annie Cassell +is a cunning little thing, though. You bring her up to the spring, and +we will have a real nice time." + +"I don't suppose grandma will let me," said Fanny. + +"You needn't tell her all about it, you goose. Just tell her you want +to show Annie the spring. There is no harm in that." + +"I don't know about it." + +"If you don't, I will just come down to the house and ask to see you, +and tell your grandma you promised to come and bring Annie with you." + +"You wouldn't tell such a lie?" said Fanny, alarmed. + +"You'll see," was the answer. "Why shouldn't I tell lies as well as +other folks? Just as sure as you don't come, I will come down to the +house and ask for you. You needn't be afraid. You don't suppose I want +to hurt the child, do you?" + +"No; of course not. Well, I will come if I can." + +When Fanny reached home, she went to find her grandmother, who was in +the dairy. The truth was, she had seen Willy in the field, and was +by no means sure that he had not seen her walking with Sarah. So she +meant to be beforehand with him, in case he should have any intention +of telling of her. So first putting Mr. Brandon's book down behind the +parlour table that it might have the appearance of having fallen by +accident, she went into the milkroom, where Mrs. Lilly was working over +her butter—an operation which she always performed herself if possible. + +"Grandma," said she, "I met Sarah Leyman at the Corners; and she walked +over home with me. I couldn't get rid of her without being rude, and I +knew you wouldn't want me to hurt her feelings." + +"Of course not," said Mrs. Lilly, feeling pleased that Fanny should +come to her so frankly. "Don't be unkind to her in any way. How did she +seem to feel?" + +"Oh, just as usual," said Fanny. "She says she thinks all religious +people are hypocrites alike." + +"I wonder whether she thinks her aunt Sally was one?" said Mrs. Lilly. + +"I asked her that, and she said she didn't remember much about her, but +she didn't believe there was much to choose." + +"Poor child!" said Mrs. Lilly, sighing. + +"Well, I suppose one ought to be sorry for her, and yet I could not +help being angry," said Fanny. "I told her she ought to be ashamed, +but she went on worse than ever. I do believe she will make fun of +anything. I never heard her so bad as she was to-day." + +"That may be only a sign that her heart is touched," said Mrs. Lilly. +"She may be trying to silence her conscience. Those have a great deal +to answer for who have brought her up in such a way." + +"Yes, indeed," said Oney, who had just come in with her hands full of +cake warm from the oven. "'Whoso shall offend one of these little ones, +it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and +that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.' I wouldn't like to have +the responsibility that rests on that girl's father and mother." + +"I hoped for better things from seeing Sarah at the meeting," said Mrs. +Lilly, "but Fanny tells me she only makes fun of the whole thing. But +it may be only that she is trying to put down conviction in her own +mind. You must be very careful what you say to her, Fanny. I wish I +could get a chance for a quiet talk with her." + +"Has Willy found that book yet?" asked Fanny, feeling very +uncomfortable, and wishing to change the subject before anything else +was said. + +"No, not yet; I can't think what has become of it," replied Mrs. Lilly. +"I hope it is not lost." + +"I believe I will go and take a look for it; perhaps I may find it in +some place Willy has overlooked," said Fanny. "I am pretty good at +finding things." + +"Do, my dear, and dust the books in the parlour at the same time. And, +Fanny, you may get out all the Indian curiosities, and arrange them; +they will help to amuse Annie." + +Fanny dusted and arranged and put everything in nice order, trying to +become so much interested in her work as not to think of anything else, +for the words of Oney rang in her ears very uncomfortably. "Whosoever +offendeth one of these little ones—" Fanny thought that did not sound +quite right, and she opened the book to see. + +"Whoso shall offend one of these little ones which 'believe' in 'me,—'" + +That did not mend the matter, and she shut the book and laid it down +as if it burned her fingers. Was not this just what, she had done? Had +she not offended Sarah just as she was beginning to believe? Had she +not done her best to prevent her from taking another step in that path +which the poor girl was just trying to enter—the path which led to +safety, to happiness and salvation? Suppose Sarah should never repent +and become a Christian, whose would be the fault? + +"Well, I couldn't help it," said Fanny to herself. "I couldn't have her +coming up here and talking to grandma, and telling her everything, as I +am sure she would the very first thing if grandma coaxed her a little. +I don't see how I can help going to the spring to-morrow, either, but +I must be sure and make Annie promise not to tell. Tiresome little +torment! I wish she wasn't coming at all. I dare say she will get me +into some scrape or other." + +Fanny busied herself till tea-time with the books and curiosities, and +in unpacking her doll and its clothes, which had remained in their box +ever since she left home. When Oney called her to supper, she came into +the kitchen, holding up the missing book in triumph. + +"See what I have found," said she. + +"Oh, Mr. Brandon's book! How glad I am!" exclaimed Willy, with +sparkling eyes. "Where did you find it? I have hunted all over for it." + +"It was behind the table in the parlour," said Fanny. "You couldn't +have looked very sharp, Willy." + +Willy looked as if he did not know how to believe his ears. + +"Why, Fanny!" he exclaimed. "I don't see how that can be. I moved the +table and looked behind it this very morning, and I am sure the book +was not there then, or I would have seen it." + +"I am sure it was," answered Fanny, positively. "I found it when I +was dusting the parlour. I happened to think I would move out the +table, and down fell the book directly. So you see, Willy, you must be +mistaken." + +"Perhaps you only thought you would move it, or you might not have +moved it far enough," said Mrs. Lilly. "Never mind; I am glad the book +is found." + +"Well, if that isn't the strangest thing, I wouldn't say so," said +Willy to Oney when they were alone together. "Oney, I know just as well +as I know anything that the book was not there this morning. I pulled +the table clear away from the wall, and looked behind it and under the +cloth and everywhere." + +"So did I," said Oney. "I am sure that it was not there." + +"Then why didn't you say so?" asked Willy, a little vexed. + +"Because I am an Indian, and know how to hold my tongue—a thing which I +sometimes think white folks never learn," said Oney, smiling. "Where's +the use in making a fuss?" + +"But Fanny is so awful deceitful," said Willy; "I do think Mrs. Lilly +ought to know." + +"Oh, she'll find out, never you fear," replied Oney; "and I would +rather she found out of herself, without any help of mine. You see, +Fanny is playing 'good' just now, and the old lady thinks she is just +right. I have given her two or three hints, but she would not hear, and +the other day she as much as told me she was afraid I was jealous of +Fanny. So I made up my mind to let matters alone, and you had better do +the same." + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +_SARAH'S PLANS._ + +THE next day was Wednesday—the day appointed for Mrs. Cassell's visit. +Fanny remembered it the moment she opened her eyes, and did not exactly +know whether she were glad or sorry. + +"I should be glad, only for going up to the spring," she thought, "but +perhaps, after all, Annie's grandmother won't let her go, and then I +shall have a good excuse. I don't care: I mean to have a good time, +anyway. And even if Sarah does come to the spring, grandma need not +know that I expected her. How bad she did feel yesterday! I wonder +what ailed her? I shouldn't think she need mind so much. They can't do +anything to her." + +In truth, Fanny was quite incapable of understanding Sarah's feelings. +With Fanny, partly from her natural disposition and more from the way +in which she had been brought up, self was everything. She judged of +everything as it affected herself. What pleased her or afforded her +any advantage was right; whatever displeased or annoyed her was wrong. +She would not have shed a tear at finding out her best friend in the +greatest crime or meanness, so long as it did not affect herself. + +She liked Sarah in her fashion, because Sarah's wit and wild stories +amused her, and because she was, on the whole, an agreeable playmate, +and it never troubled her in the least to think that Sarah was a very +naughty girl and in a fair way of going to utter destruction. She +loved her father as well as she was capable of loving anybody, but +the most disgraceful failure on his part would have affected her less +unpleasantly than his refusal to pay fifty dollars for some dress or +trinket on which she had set her heart. In fact, self was her idol, +her god. Whoever sacrificed to that god was right in her eyes; whoever +treated her deity with neglect or disrespect was wrong, no matter how +good he might otherwise be. + +It was very different with Sarah Leyman. Utterly wild and untaught as +she was and had been ever since she was eight years old, the poor child +had a heart capable of devoted attachment and of great sacrifices. +Till she was eight years old, Aunt Sally had been her all—her friend, +teacher, protector, and playmate, all in one. Mrs. Leyman often said +before her sister and daughter that Sarah took after her aunt a great +deal more than she did after her mother, and predicted that she should +turn out just such another saint—saint being a term of the deepest +reproach in the vocabulary of people like Mrs. Leyman. + +Everything that Sarah knew she learned from Aunt Sally, who taught +her to say her prayers and read her Bible, and to know that she had a +Father in heaven who would always love her and take care of her. But +Aunt Sally died at thirty, because she hadn't any ambition according to +her sister-in-law—in reality, of hard work and anxiety and grief and +shame. Poor Sarah was left without a friend. Two or three people would +have taken her for her aunt's sake, Mrs. Lilly among the rest, but her +father would not hear of binding her out, and nobody wanted to be at +the trouble of dressing and teaching and becoming attached to her, only +to have her taken away as soon as she was old enough to become useful. +Moreover, Mr. Leyman made it a condition that Sarah should not go to +church or Sunday-school or be "taught any priestcraft and superstition." + +So Sarah grew up with no education except what she picked up herself +by reading such books as fell in her way and by going for a few weeks +at a time to the district school. Here she learned to write and cipher +a little. Aunt Sally had taught her to read almost before she could +remember, and she heard the Bible read and read it in turn with the +other children, and now and then an earnest teacher would try to put +into the child's mind some sense of the truths of religion, so that she +was not absolutely ignorant on that subject. + +But during the last year, she had lost that small chance. The three +or four small district schools in and around the village had been +consolidated into one grand union school, attended by all the young +ladies of the village, and Sarah was too proud to show herself among +those who were so much better dressed and educated than herself. + +Sarah's father was what he called a freethinker, which in his case +meant nothing more nor less than an impudent, reckless creature, +regarding the laws neither of God nor man. He made a regular business +of ostentatiously breaking the Sabbath, and as far as possible, he +brought up his children in the same way. The training had produced its +legitimate fruits. One son was already in the penitentiary, and the +other had escaped a like fate only by running away and going to sea. + +Mrs. Leyman was pretty much what Mrs. Lilly had described her. She had +come of a decent family, and there were those who were willing to show +her kindness for the sake of her father and mother. But Mrs. Leyman +was one of those people who take two or three miles for every ell that +is given them. If she had an invitation to any house in the village +or at the Corners—the little hamlet which had grown up at the slate +quarry—she made such an invitation a pretext for a dozen visits at +least. If anybody gave her a pail of skim milk or buttermilk one day, +she would send the next for a piece of cheese or butter, or to borrow a +washboard or flat-iron; and those who were weak enough to lend to her +seldom saw their property again. + +Her chief pleasures in life were strong green tea and scandal. A small +property which still remained to her from her father's estate supplied +her with means for purchasing the first. For the second she was chiefly +indebted to Miss Clarke, the washerwoman and tailoress employed in +good families for her abilities in doing up fine muslins and making +children's clothes. Miss Clarke was an inveterate collector of news +and scandal, and the worse a story was, the better it pleased her. She +was, to put it in plain English, an inveterate and malicious liar, +and she improved her natural gifts in that direction by taking opium. +Such was Mrs. Leyman's chosen friend, and from her did she obtain all +those stories of the secret sins and shortcomings of church-members and +respectable people with which she entertained her husband. + +Sarah listened to her mother's tales because she liked anything in the +shape of a story, and because, being sensible of the degradation of her +own family, she took a sullen satisfaction in thinking that others were +no better. But she despised her mother and almost hated her father, +and she would have run away from home long before now, only for Ally, +her poor little sickly sister. It was Ally who kept Sarah at home for +the few hours that she ever spent there from the beginning to the end +of warm weather. For her sake, Sarah recalled all she could of Aunt +Sally's hymns and verses, her Bible, and other stories. For Ally she +learned Sunday-school hymns and borrowed Sunday-school books from the +other children, and gathered flowers and berries and everything that +could comfort and amuse the child in her sick times. + +It was Mrs. Lilly's kindness to Ally which had made Sarah like her +in the first place. Poor Sarah was a very naughty girl—there was +unfortunately no doubt of that—but she would have been a great deal +worse only for Ally, and for the half-remembered lessons learned +at Aunt Sally's knee. But for these things and for an undefined +something—she could hardly tell what—which had lately been creeping +over her, and making her feel a kind of hope that she might some time +become better and happier, she would have run away and left the family +to its fate. + +What Sarah found to love in Fanny it would, perhaps, be hard to say, +but she did love her, and would have done anything for her. Fanny +was very pretty, for one thing. She had nice manners and a pleasant +way of speaking when she was pleased, and she could tell tales of a +world of which Sarah knew nothing, and which she fancied must be more +wonderful and beautiful than her own. Sarah soon found out that Fanny +was shallow, and she had begun to feel, rather than suspect, that she +was false: but she was one of those people who, having loved once, love +always, and she was still devoted to Fanny with her whole heart and +soul. + +Sarah could hardly have told what led her to go to the meeting +on Sunday evening. She had never attended before, though all the +neighbours went, especially Mrs. Lilly, and she had a feeling that +everything Mrs. Lilly did must be good. She had been quite serious +in what she had said to Fanny after the adventure of the bull. She +did want to be a good girl, a true Christian like Mrs. Lilly and Aunt +Sally, but she did not know how to begin. Perhaps she might find out +at the meeting. So she made up her mind to go and try, and she found +out that, at any rate, it was very pleasant, though rather awful. Those +things which she had mimicked for Fanny's amusement—Deacon Crane's +broad accent and Mr. Howe's bad grammar—did not now strike her as so +absurd because she felt as she never had done, that both the deacon +and Mr. Howe were talking to some very real Presence: not the less +real because unseen. The singing, the Bible reading, the speaking, +all touched her heart, and the kindness with which she was met by +everybody, especially Mrs. Lilly, increased the charm. + +They had all seemed so glad to see her there, and had asked her to come +again. Sarah made up her mind that she would go again, that she would +somehow have a Bible and read it and teach Ally to read it, and she +would try her best to be a good Christian girl. And then to find out +that these people who had seemed so glad to see her were laughing at +her and plotting to separate her from Ally and put her in prison, to +find out that Mrs. Lilly was capable of such treachery—Mrs. Lilly, whom +she had always considered as the very model of everything good,—this it +was, and no hurt vanity, which had caused the violent burst of feeling +which Fanny could not understand. This it was which made her feel as if +there were no real truth or goodness anywhere, and no use in trying to +do right, since religious people were, after all, no better than any +one else. This was the mischief Fanny had done, and at which she might +well have stood appalled if she had at all understood it. + +But she did not. She was sorry to have made Sarah feel so badly, but +she was glad to have prevented any chance of an explanation between +Sarah and her grandmother. To be sure, this was not much like the +missionary work over which she had been dreaming lately, and which was +one day to make her famous and admired. But perhaps Sarah might not +have been good, anyway, or perhaps she would become a Christian, after +all. And, anyhow, she could not help it now, so there was no use in +thinking about it any more. + +[Illustration: _On the Mountain._ "Here is a nicer cup than that."] + +This was always Fanny's way of consoling herself and quieting her +conscience when it happened to be disturbed: "I can't help it now, so +there is no use in worrying myself about it." + +She jumped up and dressed herself as nicely as possible, and ran down +stairs to help her grandmother with the milk without stopping to say +her prayers, as she had been very careful to do lately. + +Mrs. Cassell had promised to come early, and by ten o'clock the +carriage was seen by Fanny's eager eyes coming slowly up the long +ascent. Mrs. Lilly's farm lay mostly on the first rise of the mountain, +as it was called, a kind of broad terrace ascending from the river, +which ran through the valley, to a nearly level plain of some quarter +of a mile in extent. Besides this, Mrs. Lilly owned a broad strip of +meadow-land along the river, and a large extent of pasture and forests +extending to the "No man's land" and cloudland on the top of the great +mountain which overlooked Hillsborough. + +To Annie, coming from Detroit, where the land is literally as flat as +a pancake and the river looks as if it had been spilled on the top +of the ground, this country of mountains and swift-running streams, +"of fountains and depths that spring out of valleys and hills," was +a land of enchantment. It was as beautiful as fairyland the little +girl thought, but, like fairyland, it was also rather alarming in +respect that one never knew exactly what might be coming next. She had +received the announcement that they were going to make a visit up on +the mountain with some inward misgivings. And when she found herself +going up and up without seeming ever to come to the end, she began to +wish herself at home. But when she finally arrived and was met by Mrs. +Lilly's cordial welcome, all her fears vanished, and she was quite +ready to respond to the old lady's kindness, and to enjoy herself +thoroughly. + +"And where is Hugh?" asked Mrs. Lilly. "I hope he is not going to +disappoint us." + +"Hugh will come up this afternoon," said Mrs. Brandon. "He was all +ready this morning, and indeed came with us as far as the post-office, +when he found a bundle of proof-sheets lying in wait for him, so he had +to return and devote himself to them. He will ride up this afternoon as +soon as he finishes his work. But proof-sheets are like time and tide: +they wait for no man." + +"No, I suppose not," said Mrs. Lilly. "Well, I am sorry, but it is not +as if this was the only day there was, so you needn't look so doleful, +Willy. But come, you had better get your things off. You know the way +up stairs, Emma." + +As soon as Annie had disposed of the piece of cake which Mrs. Lilly was +sure she must need after her ride, Fanny took possession of her. She +was fond of children in her selfish way—that is, she liked to play with +them as if they were dolls, and amuse herself with them as long as they +were "good,"—that is, just so long as they did exactly what she wished. + +Annie would have been quite contented to look out of the windows and +amuse herself with the Indian curiosities, of which Mrs. Lilly had a +great collection, but it was one of Fanny's ways that she never could +enjoy herself in the presence of grown people. She could not be easy +till she had drawn Annie out of the parlour and carried her off to her +own room, where she got out her doll to amuse her visitor. They played +with it for some time, and then Fanny proposed that they should go out. + +"Can we go and see the raccoon?" said Annie. "Uncle Hugh said Willy had +a tame raccoon." + +"Oh yes, you shall see everything, and I will take you to the +prettiest place you ever saw," replied Fanny, who felt very amiable +and patronizing. "I will show you the spring up in the woods, and +everything." + +"That will be nice," said Annie, "but we must ask grandma first." + +"Of course," said Fanny; "I will go and ask her now while you dress the +doll." + +"Take Annie up to the spring?" repeated Mrs. Lilly, aloud, after Fanny +had whispered in her ear. "Why, yes, I suppose so, if Mrs. Cassell has +no objection." + +"Where is the spring?" asked Mrs. Cassell. + +"Only a little way off—just upon the side of the hill. You can almost +see it from this window. It is a very pretty place, and there is no +danger for them to run into. Fanny spends half her time there, I think. +But, Fanny, remember, you must not go into the woods." + +"No, ma'am," answered Fanny. + +"And don't leave Annie alone anywhere," said Mrs. Cassell. "Remember +she has always been brought up in the city, and knows nothing about +taking care of herself. Promise me that you will keep close by her." + +"I will," answered Fanny. "I will not leave her alone a minute. Please +let Willy ring the bell in the garden, grandma, when you want us to +come in." + +"Very well," said Mrs. Lilly; "we shall not have dinner till two, so +you will have a nice time to play and enjoy yourselves." + +Fanny put on Annie's hat and jacket, and then led her out to see the +raccoon and the guinea hens. As they were looking at the former, Willy +came up. + +"Now, Willy, you may just go away," said Fanny, sharply. "We don't want +you around after us." + +Annie looked surprised. She was not used to hear people spoken to in +that way. + +"It is my raccoon, and I suppose I have a right to look at it," +returned Willy. + +"Are you Willy Beaubien?" asked Annie. + +"Yes," replied Willy, rather shyly, but added, presently, "I have seen +you at Sunday-school. Don't you want to see Cooney eat? He looks real +cunning." + +"Oh yes," exclaimed Annie, much interested. "What does he eat?" + +"Oh, anything that he can get. I will run and ask Oney for some cake +for him." + +"Come, Annie, let's run away while he is gone," said Fanny. + +"I don't want to," answered Annie; "I want to see the raccoon eat." + +Fanny was tempted to speak sharply, but recollecting herself, she said, +"I shouldn't think you would care about that. Come, we sha'n't have any +time at all." + +But Annie had a little will of her own as well as Fanny, and she would +not stir till Willy came back with the cake, and till she had seen the +raccoon eat, and had agreed with Willy that he was very cunning and +looked as if he knew everything. + +"Just as if he knew what we were talking about!" said Annie. "I guess +you like animals very well, don't you, Willy?" + +"Yes," answered Willy. "I was going to ask you whether you would let me +see your Guinea pigs, some time." + +"Yes, indeed, and give you a pair, if you like," replied Annie, +smiling; "I am sure you would be good to them." + +"I don't believe grandma will let him have them," said Fanny, growing +cross, as usual, as soon as she was not the chief object of attention. +"She says Willy has so many playthings now that he doesn't attend to +his work." + +"I guess you stretched that a little," said Willy. "Anyhow, I can ask +her." + +"Well, do come, Annie, if you are ever coming," said Fanny. + +The truth was, she was growing uneasy. She had seen Sarah going up to +the spring some time before, and was afraid of her losing patience and +putting into execution her threat of coming down to the house. + +Annie saw that for some reason Fanny was really annoyed, and she at +once gave up looking at the guinea hens and followed her conductor +through the garden and across the fields. + +"See, here is the spring," said Fanny, when they reached the little +mossy dell so often spoken of. "See how it comes running out of the +mountain-side. Isn't it pretty?" + +"Beautiful!" said Annie. "How clear and cool it is! Is it good to +drink?" + +"Yes, very. There is a cup here somewhere. Oh, here it is." And Fanny +produced a somewhat rusty tin cup from under a stone, rinsed it, and +filled it from the spring for Annie to drink. + +"Here is a nicer cup than that," said Sarah Leyman, coming out from +among the bushes, holding in her hand a large scallop shell, such as is +frequently brought from Florida and Key West by travellers. "I found +it this morning among some things in our garret, and brought it up on +purpose for Annie to drink out of." + +"Did you?" asked Annie, looking wonderingly at the dark, handsome girl. +"That was very good of you. But how did you know that I was coming up +here to-day?" + +"Oh, a little bird told me," answered Sarah, playfully. "The little +bird told me that a fairy was coming up to visit the spring, and would +want something pretty to drink out of. Here, drink, little fairy." + +"Oh how nice!" said Annie, after she had drank from the shell, which +Sarah held to her lips. "I don't think I ever tasted such good water." + +"More people than you have thought so," said Sarah. "I was reading a +letter last night that your aunt wrote to my aunt from India, in which +she said she would give all the fruit in India for one drink from this +very spring." + +"Was that my aunt Eugenia, and did she write to your aunt?" asked +Annie, very much interested. "How nice that is! I should think that +ought to make us some sort of cousins, shouldn't you?" + +"Very distant cousins," answered Sarah, laughing. "Your name 'is' +Annie, isn't it?" + +"Yes—Annie Eugenia Mercer. I was named for my aunt and grandmother." + +"And where do you live when you are at home, Annie Eugenia?" + +"In Detroit," replied Annie. + +"I suppose it is a great way off?" + +"Oh yes; we were a night and two days coming, and we stopped one night +at Albany. And oh, Fanny," exclaimed Annie, "you know I told you how +that girl stole my doll on the cars?" + +"Yes," answered Fanny. "Why?" + +"Don't you think, day before yesterday, Uncle Hugh came up from the +cars, and brought a great parcel directed to me. And when I opened it, +there was a beautiful doll all dressed, and a letter from this very +girl telling me she was sorry she had been so wicked, and she hoped I +would forgive her, and that my doll was spoiled, but she had sent me +another. Wasn't that nice?" + +"Very nice," said Fanny. + +"I didn't care so very much about the doll; though, after all, one +can't have too many dolls," said Annie, sagely. "But it was nice to +think she should be sorry and want to make up for what she had done. +Grandma said it was beginning in the right way if Celia—the girl's name +was Celia—really meant to be a good girl." + +"What was beginning right?" asked Sarah—"Sending back the doll or +saying she was sorry?" + +"Both," replied Annie. "Grandma said—I am not sure that I can tell it +just right—" + +"Never mind," said Sarah, who seemed very much interested. "Tell it as +well as you can." + +"She said we must confess all our sins to God if we want them forgiven; +and if they are against our neighbours—that is, if they have done harm +to anybody, you know—" + +"Yes," said Sarah, "I understand." + +"Then we must go to them and try to make up, and if we have done them +any damage, we must make it good. I didn't quite understand that at +first, and grandma said if I had borrowed Mary Patterson's scissors, +and lost or spoiled them, it wouldn't be enough to say I was sorry; I +must buy her a new pair if I possibly could. So she said it was right +in Celia to send me a new doll." + +"I see," said Sarah. "Don't you think you are a happy little girl to +have such a good grandma?" + +"Yes, indeed!" said Annie, with emphasis. "Mary Patterson says I ought +to be thankful every day that I have such good friends to take care of +me." + +"Who is Mary Patterson?" asked Fanny. She was not very easy under this +conversation, and she was, moreover, in a great hurry to improve the +time in finding out all about Annie's family history. + +"Mary is my nurse," replied Annie. "She has lived at our house ever +since I can remember, and we think everything of her." + +"How many servants does your mother keep?" was Fanny's next question. + +"Oh, let me see: there is Mary Patterson and old Mary the cook—only we +don't call her 'old' Mary because mamma says it isn't polite, so we all +call her Willis—and Jane the chambermaid, and Arthur, papa's servant, +that was with him in the war, and John the coachman." + +"Your father must be very rich to keep so many servants." + +"Well, I suppose he is," replied Annie, simply. "I heard Uncle Harris +say that papa was worth almost a million of dollars. That is a great +deal, isn't it?" + +"Why, yes, quite a good deal," said Sarah, laughing. + +"My father is worth two millions," said Fanny, "and there are people +on our street richer than that. But I didn't suppose anybody out West +was as well off as that. I thought only poor people went West, and that +they lived in log houses and never had anything nice." + +"I don't think there are any log houses in Detroit, though I have seen +them in the country," said Annie. "Detroit is a very pretty place, +though not as nice as it is here, because it is all so flat. There +isn't the least little bit of a hill anywhere round. If that hill Mr. +Willson lives on were in Detroit, they would think it was a mountain." + +"And what would they say to such a mountain as this?" asked Sarah. + +"I don't know; I suppose they would be afraid of it, as I was when I +first came here," said Annie. + +"Oh, you needn't be afraid; he is a pretty good old mountain," said +Sarah, who seemed very much taken with the pretty little child. "See +what the mountain sent you by me." And going to a ledge of rock close +by a kind of natural shelf, she produced two of her pretty little +baskets, one filled with red raspberries, the other with blueberries. + +"Oh how pretty!" exclaimed Annie. "Did the mountain send them to me? I +am sure he was very kind." + +"Yes; he told me to tell you that you were welcome to eat his berries +and drink out of his spring, but you must never climb up on his back, +because that is no place for little girls." + +"Well, I won't. Tell him so, with my love. I should like to do +something for him. I might work him a slipper—you know they talk of the +foot of a mountain sometimes—only I shouldn't know where to get a piece +of canvas big enough." + +"How silly you are!" aid Fanny, who never could understand a joke. "The +mountain isn't alive. It is only a great heap of rocks and dirt." + +"I know it," said Annie. "I was only making believe." + +Annie ate her berries, and then began admiring the mosses which grew +all about the spring. + +"I know where there are much prettier mosses than these," said Sarah, +"but the place is too far for you to walk. Don't you want to sit here a +few minutes while Fanny and I go and get you some snail shells?" + +"I don't know," said Annie, rather doubtfully. "If you won't be gone +long." + +"Oh no, only a few minutes. You just sit still here or play about on +the rocks, but don't go away from the spring, whatever you do. Come, +Fanny, I want to speak to you. I have something to tell you and to ask +you." + +"I don't know about leaving Annie. I am afraid she will get into some +mischief or other," said Fanny, hesitating a little, though she was +very anxious to hear what Sarah had to tell. She had seen all the +morning, through all Sarah's playfulness with Annie, that she had +something more than usual on her mind, and she was very desirous of +finding out what it was. + +"I don't see what mischief she can get into," said Sarah, looking about +her and considering. "There are no snakes. The wicked old bull is shut +up in his stable, and the cattle are all away at the farther pasture. +Even if she should take a notion to run home, she can't miss her way. +You are not afraid to stay here a few minutes, are you, Annie?" + +"No," said Annie—"only don't be long." + +"Oh no; we will be back in a very few minutes." + +"And you will bring me some snail shells, won't you?" + +"Yes, if I can find them, and I am pretty sure I can. After all, Fanny, +perhaps we had better not leave her alone. She is such a little thing +she might get scared, and I can tell you some other day." + +Fanny thought she saw in these last words an indication that Sarah had +repented and did not mean to tell her what she had on her mind, and +this made her all the more anxious to find out what it was. So she +answered, decidedly,— + +"Yes, I shall go, too. Mind, Annie, that you don't stir away from this +place or you will get lost." + + +To do Sarah justice, she had not the least idea that in leaving Annie +alone at the spring she was exposing her to any danger. The children +she was acquainted with played in the woods all day long and made +excursions after berries and flowers without any fear. She knew that +there were no snakes and no wild animals bigger than a rabbit to be met +with at this time of year, and she had really taken pains to assure +herself that the bull was safely shut up in his stable. She wanted very +much to speak to Fanny, and she did not see that she was likely to have +another chance very soon. + +Fanny was much more to blame than Sarah, for she had promised +faithfully not to leave Annie alone for ever so short a time, and she +ought to have kept her word. She knew this very well, but she said to +herself that no harm would come to her, and that she must hear what +Sarah had to say. + +Sarah led the way in silence a short distance up the mountain, and then +turned aside into the woods. + +"Well?" said Fanny, as Sarah stopped and began gathering some +wintergreen shoots. "Well?" she repeated, impatiently, as Sarah did not +speak. "What do you want to say to me?" + +"Fanny," said Sarah, "I want you to do me a very great favour." + +"Well, what?" + +"You told me you had a good deal of money of your own." + +"Yes; my father gave me twenty dollars, and I have only spent a little +of it. Why?" + +"I want you to lend me ten dollars," said Sarah. "There! The murder is +out." + +Fanny looked very much taken aback. "Why do you want ten dollars?" she +asked, with a good deal of suspicion in her tone. + +"I will tell you all about it if you will listen," said Sarah. "Sit +down here on this log." + +The two girls sat down side by side, and Sarah went on in rather a low +tone: + +"After I left you yesterday, I went up in our garret and pulled out all +Aunt Sally's old letters to read. There were a good many from Annie's +aunt Eugenia in India, and from Mary Jane Merrill and other people. But +at last I found the letters I wanted. They were from my Aunt Caroline, +my mother's sister, over in Concord. She used to be a schoolteacher, +but I knew she had married since, and I wanted to know what sort of +woman she was. The letters were very nice indeed, and sounded a good +deal like Aunt Sally herself. Then I asked ma about Aunt Caroline, and +ma said she had married a rich man and felt above all her relations. +But I kept on asking questions till I found out that Aunt Caroline had +lost all her own children, and that she had wanted to adopt me or Ally +when we were little, but father would not let either of us go. I made +ma show me the last letter she had from Aunt Caroline, and it was a +real good letter, and I made out that she had always helped ma a great +deal." + +"Well," said Fanny, impatiently, "what has that to do with my lending +you ten dollars?" + +"Just this," replied Sarah: "I have been thinking the matter over, and +I have made up my mind what to do. If you will lend me ten dollars, I +will go and see Aunt Caroline myself, and try to persuade her to take +Ally to live with her. I don't think pa would care now. He don't like +Ally because she is so plain and sickly. Then, if I succeed, I will get +a place to work in a mill or somewhere, and take care of myself." + +"Why don't you write to your aunt?" asked Fanny. + +"Because I can't write very well, and I want to see Aunt Caroline and +talk to her myself. If I have ten dollars, I can get myself a decent +frock and hat, so that she need not be ashamed of me, and the rest of +the money will pay my fare to Concord and back." + +"If your aunt is rich, I should think she would lend you the money," +said Fanny. + +"I don't want to begin by asking her for money for myself," said Sarah, +colouring. "She doesn't know anything about me. But if you will lend it +to me, I will pay you back the very first money I earn." + +"Oh, of course," said Fanny, sarcastically. + +Sarah's eyes flashed. "Don't you believe me?" she asked. + +Fanny was rather alarmed, and continued, in a superior but more +friendly tone, "I suppose you think you would, but this is all +nonsense, Sarah. It is the greatest wild-goose chase I ever heard of. +Suppose you go to Concord, what good will it do? Your aunt won't do +anything for you. As likely as not, she won't let you come into her +house. And as for her adopting Ally, you might as well expect her to +adopt a black baby. I know, because my mother is one of the managers of +the orphan asylum, and I have heard her say that the people who take +children always want a healthy, pretty child with curly hair." + +"And what becomes of all the ugly, straight-haired children?" asked +Sarah. + +"Oh, I don't know. They get bound out, or something. Anyhow, nobody +wants them, and I am sure your aunt wouldn't want Ally. You see it is +all nonsense, Sarah. You couldn't do anything if you tried." + +"Then you won't lend me the money, Fanny?" said Sarah, in a tone of +deep mortification and disappointment. + +"No, because I don't think there would be any use in it. You had a +great deal better stay where you are, or else write a letter to your +aunt and ask her to send you some money." + +"I can't write, I tell you," said Sarah, flushing crimson. "I can't +put one sentence together and spell the words right." She paused a +moment, and then spoke again with more earnestness than before, and in +a pleading tone very different from her usual off-hand manner: + +"Come, Fanny, do lend me this money. It won't be very much to you even +if you have to do without it a year, and it will be everything to me. +I can't leave home while Ally is there, whatever happens, and I feel +almost sure that Aunt Caroline will take the child if I can only see +her and tell her how things are, which I couldn't do in a letter if +I could write ever so well. If Ally is only safe, I know I can find +some place where I can earn money. I can learn any kind of work easily +enough if I only give my mind to it, and I will send you every dollar I +earn. Come, Fanny, don't say 'No.' Why won't you lend it to me?" + +"Because I want it myself," said Fanny, coming to the true reason at +last. "I have only that twenty dollars to last me for pocket-money till +my father comes home, and I am always wanting candy or something that +grandma won't buy for me. As likely as not you never would pay me, and +then I should lose it altogether." + +"Don't you think I am honest, Fanny? I risked more than that for you +the day we met the bull," said Sarah, with a quiver in her voice. "I +didn't stop to think whether you would ever pay me." + +"That is different," said Fanny. + +"Yes, there is a good deal of difference between risking your life and +risking ten dollars," said Sarah, dryly. "Fanny, why did you ever make +friends with me if you don't care enough for me to do as much as that +for me?" + +"Because I had no one else to play with, and it was so stupid at +grandma's with nobody to speak to," said Fanny, speaking the truth for +once. + +"Then, if you had any one else to play with—anybody more genteel—you +wouldn't care any more about me?" + +"Well, no, I don't know that I should. You see, Sarah, you are very +different from me." + +"Very different," said Sarah, rising—"so different that the less we +have to do with each other, the better." + +As she spoke, she went a little farther into the wood and began to turn +over the fallen sticks and leaves. + +Fanny followed her, feeling rather uneasy. + +"What are you looking for?" she asked. + +"Some shells for Annie," answered Sarah, without looking up. "You had +better go to her. She may get tired of staying alone." + +"I don't want to go without you," said Fanny. + +Sarah did not reply; but having found what she sought, she turned back. + +"I suppose you are very angry with me?" said Fanny, presently. + +"No, I am not," returned Sarah. "I am angry at myself for ever having +cared for you." + +"You say so because you are vexed at not getting the money," said +Fanny, "but I think you are very unreasonable." + +"If you say another word, I will box your ears," said Sarah. In another +moment she added, more gently, "I am sorry I said that. I shall never +see you again, and I did love you dearly, Fanny." + +The tone in which Sarah said this showed that she at least was not +heartless. + +"What makes you say that?" asked Fanny. + +"Because it is true. I shall go to Aunt Caroline's, if I have to walk +every step. Besides, I never want to see you again—never!" + +As Sarah said these words, the two girls came in sight of the spring. +Annie was not there. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_THE LOST CHILD._ + +"THERE, now! See what a scrape you have got me into!" said Fanny, +angrily. "Tiresome little thing! She has run off home; and now she will +tell them that I left her alone." + +"Well, what of that?" returned Sarah. "What harm was there in your +leaving her alone a few minutes in a safe place?" + +"Because I promised I wouldn't, stupid! That's why." + +"Did you really promise not to leave her alone?" asked Sarah, gravely. + +"Of course I did. Her grandmother wouldn't let her come unless I +promised not to leave her alone anywhere. A nice scrape you have got me +into with your secrets!" + +"You never told me you had promised, so don't lay all the blame on me," +said Sarah. "Besides, I wanted to come back and wait till another time, +and you wouldn't. I don't suppose there is any harm done. She has got +tired and run back to the house. Fanny," said Sarah, suddenly starting +and turning pale, "you don't suppose she has started to find us, do +you?" + +"No, of course not," returned Fanny, impatiently. "What do you want to +put such a notion into one's head for?" + +"I never thought of her doing such a thing," continued Sarah, looking +very uneasy. "I should never forgive myself in the world if any harm +should happen to the dear little thing. Do run down to the house and +make sure that she is safe." + +"Oh yes, that is all you think about," said Fanny, in an injured tone. +"You don't care anything about what they will say to me, I suppose." + +"Well, no, not much," returned Sarah. "Why should I? I don't suppose +they will break any of your bones, and you haven't shown any very +particular regard to my feelings. But why don't you go?" + +"Of course—" Fanny began, but Sarah interrupted her. + +"Now, just look here, Fanny, if you don't go, I shall go myself. I +suppose, of course, that Annie is safe, but I want to know for certain. +I can't bear to think of her wandering in the woods half scared to +death, and perhaps falling into Pope's hole." + +"For goodness' sake, what is Pope's hole?" asked Fanny. "I have heard +of it ever since I came here, and I don't know what any one means by +it." + +"It is a deep, deep gulley—a hole in the mountain nobody knows how +deep—with high steep walls of rock all around it, and it is half +full of water, and under the water is soft black mud. Cattle get in +sometimes, and never get out again. A man named Pope fell in when the +country was new, and for two or three years nobody knew what had become +of him. But one very dry summer, when the water was low, somebody saw +a gun lying partly out of the water. So he got somebody to let him +down with ropes, and then he found Pope's gun and his watch, but they +never found the body. It is an awful dark place to look into. But come, +Fanny, do run home. Wave your handkerchief at the back door, and then I +shall know if she is safe." + +Seeing that there was no help for it, Fanny obeyed. She did not or +would not believe that Annie was lost, and she dreaded only the reproof +she was sure to receive for leaving the child alone at the spring. She +reached the house without seeing anybody, and went straight up to her +own room, turning, however, at the door to wave her handkerchief. + +Sarah saw the signal, and satisfied that the child was safe, she went +back to the spruce wood, and sat down to consider what she should do +next. + + +"It is time the children were at home," said Mrs. Lilly, presently. +"Oney, you may tell Willy to ring the bell in the garden." + +Oney called Willy, and then went up stairs for a clean apron. As she +did so she bethought herself to look into Fanny's room and see whether +there was a supply of water and clean towels. To her great surprise, +she found Fanny sitting by the window reading. + +"Why, Fanny!" she exclaimed, in surprise. "I thought you were up at the +spring with Annie. Where is she?" + +"Down stairs in the parlour, of course," said Fanny, vainly trying to +speak in an ordinary tone. "I wish you would not come into my room +without knocking, Oney." + +"I didn't know you were at home," replied Oney. "But are you sure Annie +is down stairs? I haven't seen her." + +"Of course she is. Do go away and let me alone, can't you?" + +Oney began at once to suspect that something was wrong. She had no +confidence in Fanny, and she had seen nothing of little Annie. She went +directly down stairs and opened the parlour door. + +"Well, Oney, have you come to tell us that dinner is ready?" asked Mrs. +Lilly. + +"Dinner is pretty nearly ready," replied Oney. "Is Annie here?" + +"Annie? No," answered Mrs. Cassell, starting. "Have the children come +in? I have not seen them." + +"Fanny is up in her room, and she just now told me that Annie was down +here," said Oney. + +Mrs. Cassell turned pale. She was rather a nervous woman, and she +naturally felt a great deal of responsibility about Annie. + +"Don't be frightened," said Mrs. Lilly. "I dare say she is out with +Willy looking at the chickens." As she spoke, she went to the foot of +the stairs and called, "Fanny, come down directly." + +"I have got my shoes and stockings off, grandma," answered Fanny, who +had indeed stripped them off with all speed the moment Oney had left +the room. + +Mrs. Lilly went up stairs. + +"Why are you barefooted?" was her first question. + +"I wet my feet, and had to change my shoes and stockings," answered +Fanny, searching in her drawer for a pair of stockings, and taking a +long time to find them. + +Mrs. Lilly's quick eye fell on the boots which Fanny had just taken off. + +"Your shoes are as dry as a bone," said she, taking one of them in her +hand. "But never mind that now. Where is Annie?" + +"Down stairs, I suppose," answered Fanny, shortly. + +"Where did you leave her?" + +"I didn't leave her at all. She ran away from me and came home," said +Fanny. "Cross, hateful little thing! I wish she had never come here." + +"Put on your shoes and stockings and come down stairs," said Mrs. +Lilly. "Don't spend time looking in the drawer. Put on those you took +off." + +There was that in Mrs. Lilly's voice and manner which made Fanny afraid +to trifle any longer. She put on her shoes and stockings, and followed +down stairs sulkily enough. + +"Now," said she, "tell us just where you left Annie." + +Short as the time was in which to do it, Fanny had made up her story, +and she told it glibly enough: + +"I was cutting some birch bark for Annie, and I dropped my knife, and +while I was looking for it, Annie said she did not like the woods and +she would go back to the house. I told her to wait a minute and I would +go with her, but she began to cry and scream and say she would go +alone. Then I went with her to the garden and watched her almost into +the house, and then I went back to find my knife." + +"That does not sound at all like Annie," said Mrs. Brandon. "She is not +apt to cry because she cannot have her own way." + +"I don't know anything about that," said Fanny, pertly. "I know she +screamed loud enough this morning. I should have come all the way with +her, only I wanted to find my knife, and I didn't see what harm could +happen to her between the garden fence and the house." + +"Where can she be?" said Mrs. Cassell. + +"She may have gone away with Willy," replied Mrs. Lilly. "He is very +fond of children, and very likely he has taken her off to see some +wonderful sights in the barn." + +"Willy is up in his room," said Oney. "I will call him." + +But Willy could give no account of Annie. He had not seen her since +they were feeding the raccoon. + +"What shall we do?" said Mrs. Cassell. "Where can the child have gone? +Is there any well or cistern that she can fall into?" + +"Oh no. I never allow such things to be left uncovered. Fanny, are you +telling the truth? Did you really come with Annie as far as the garden +fence?" + +"Yes, I did," answered Fanny, positively. "I stood at the fence and +watched her clear to the back door." + +"Were you and Annie alone at the spring, or did you have company?" +asked Willy. + +Fanny made a face, and did not answer. + +"Why don't you answer Willy's question?" asked Mrs. Lilly. "Was Sarah +Leyman with you? I presume it was Sarah that Willy meant." + +"No," answered Fanny, boldly. "Sarah is very angry with me, and won't +speak to me because I would not give her some money. She said, the last +time I saw her, that she never meant to speak to me again." + +"But where can Annie be?" asked Willy. "I will go out and look round +the yard. Maybe she has gone to see the coon again." + +But in vain did they search the garden and yard; no Annie was to be +found. By this time the alarm grew very serious, and in the midst of +it, Mr. Brandon made his appearance. + +"You see I did come, after all," said he, gayly, as he entered the +parlour. "I found my proofs could wait a day, so I put them in my +pocket and came along. But what is the matter?" he asked, in alarm, for +Mrs. Brandon burst into tears on seeing him. + +"Oh, Hugh, Annie is lost!" exclaimed his wife and mother together. + +"Lost!" exclaimed Mr. Brandon. "What do you mean?" + +Mrs. Lilly told the story as she had heard it from Fanny, adding that +they had searched the farm over, and that both Oney and Willy were +still looking. Mr. Brandon stood thinking for a moment. + +"Come here, Fanny," said he, sitting down and drawing her toward him. +"Come here; I want to talk to you. Now, don't cry, but tell me the +plain truth. How far did you go with Annie?" + +"To the garden fence," replied Fanny. + +"The back garden fence?" + +Fanny assented. + +"How did Annie get over the fence?" + +"I let down the bars." + +"How could you do that when there are none?" asked Mrs. Lilly. + +"I don't mean that. I took down two or three rails and put them up +again." + +"Well, what then?" + +"Then I stood and watched her into the house, and then I went back to +find my knife." + +"Why did Annie want to come into the house?" was the next question. + +"I don't know. I suppose she was afraid to stay alone." This was an +unlucky slip. + +"To stay alone!" repeated Mr. Brandon. "To stay alone where?" + +"She was not really alone," said Fanny, seeing what a blunder she had +made; "only she was down by the spring and I was up on the bank cutting +the birch bark for her to play with." + +"You are sure you did not go out of sight?" + +"No," answered Fanny, snappishly. "I have said so ten times already." + +"You did not leave her to go away for anything but the bark?" + +"Only for the shells, and we were not gone five minutes, I am sure," +said Fanny, making another slip. + +"'We'! Who was with you besides Annie?" + +"I just wish you would let me alone," cried Fanny, bursting into a +violent fit of crying. "You confuse me so I don't know what I am about." + +"But who do you mean by 'we'?" persisted Mr. Brandon. "Who was with you +besides Annie?" + +"Nobody; and I wish she had not been there, either, the cross, hateful +little thing! I won't stay here another day," continued Fanny, working +herself into a passion. "I will go to Boston if I have to live in the +poorhouse. I won't stay here to be called a liar." + +"Nobody has called you a liar, but I very much fear that you are one," +said Mr. Brandon, gravely. "Mrs. Lilly, I am sorry to say so, but this +girl is not speaking the truth. I believe she either went away and left +Annie alone at the spring, or else sent her home alone." + +"I am afraid you are right," said Mrs. Lilly, much distressed. "Fanny, +do tell the truth. Think how much depends upon it—poor Annie's life, +perhaps. Did you leave Annie alone at the spring?" + +"No, I tell you," snapped Fanny. + +"Why did you not come home with her?" asked Mrs. Cassell. "You promised +me not to leave her a moment." + +"I didn't leave her alone." + +"Then what did you mean by saying you were not gone ten minutes?" + +"I didn't say so." And that was all that could be got out of Fanny. She +would only cry, and declare that she would go home to Boston. + +"We are wasting time," said Mr. Brandon, looking at his watch. "It is +three o'clock now. Are there any men about the place, Mrs. Lilly?" + +"No. Mr. Wye is over at B—, and Pat went away two or three days ago." + +"We must have help," said Mr. Brandon. "Are you sure the farm has been +thoroughly searched?" + +"I believe so," answered Mrs. Lilly. "Can you think of any place where +we have not looked, Oney?" + +"There is the old quarry," said Oney, rather reluctantly. + +"Heaven help us!" groaned Mrs. Lilly. "She would never go there, +surely. Fanny, you did not go near the old quarry, did you?" + +"No," said Fanny. + +"Besides, it is all covered up," said Mrs. Lilly. + +Oney shook her head. + +"It is not covered over," said she. "I have just been down to see, +and the boards are gone. If Annie had taken a fancy to go and see the +sheep—" + +"We must have it searched at once," said Mr. Brandon. "Willy, bring me +the rake, a stout string, and the largest pole you can find." + +"Let me go with you," said Oney. "Mrs. Lilly, do make them eat +something, or at least drink a cup of tea. The old lady looks ready to +faint, and it is enough to kill Emma." + + +The old quarry was a deep pit which had been dug in the search for +slates. It was full of water, and was usually kept closely covered, but +now, as Oney had said, the boards were gone. In fact, Sam Leyman had +helped himself to them only the night before for the purpose of mending +his pig-pen. Mr. Brandon made a drag of the rake and some poles, and +satisfied himself that Annie was not in the water. + +"Well, so far, no news is good news," he said, trying to speak +cheerfully, as he entered the parlour. "We must have help at once and +search the woods. I have sent Willy over to Willson's and to call the +Crane boys, and they will rouse all the men in the neighbourhood." + +It was now four o'clock, and there was no time to lose. Willy was a +fast runner, and soon left word at Deacon Crane's and Mr. Willson's +that a child was lost on the mountains, and before half an hour, four +or five stout young men were on their way to Mrs. Lilly's. + +As Willy came back through the edge of the woods, he met Sarah Leyman +slowly descending the steep path which here led up the mountain-side. + +When Sarah had seen Fanny's signal, she went back to the spruce wood +where they had been talking together, and sat down to think what she +should do next. She was deeply disappointed and mortified. She had made +up her mind that Fanny would certainly lend her the money, for she +argued, "I am sure I would do as much for her in a minute if I had the +money to lend." + +Building on this very uncertain foundation, she had arranged all her +plans. She did not mean to tell of her intended journey at home, for +she knew that neither her father nor her mother would consent, and she +had very little notion of honouring or obeying her parents. She had +one decent dress. She would buy herself a hat and some other things, +and take the night train, which would land her at Concord early in the +morning—she was too often away all night for her absence to excite any +surprise—and she would ask her aunt to write from Concord as soon as +she had found her. She felt sure that Aunt Caroline would take Ally if +the matter were properly represented to her. + +"And then," thought Sarah, "I will buy a decent calico frock and go to +work at anything I can find to do, and I will save every cent till I +have enough to pay Fanny, and perhaps do something for ma." + +This was Sarah's plan, which she had thought over till it appeared +perfectly easy and reasonable—always provided that Fanny would lend her +the money. + +But Fanny had absolutely refused to lend her the money, and for no +better reason than that she wanted to use it herself for things which +her grandmother would not buy for her. Sarah could hardly believe it +even now. She had exposed her own life for Fanny, and Fanny would not +deny herself an ounce of sugar-plums for her. + +Sarah, as I have said, was by nature generous and loyal. She had begun +by loving Fanny dearly, and by fancying that such a pretty, graceful +girl must be all but perfect. And though she had found out her mistake, +she had gone on loving Fanny, and in some degree trusting her. But that +was all over now. Her idol was effectually shattered, and with it, as +it seemed, all her fine plans for helping herself and Ally. She did not +know where to look for the money which was necessary for the carrying +out of her scheme. She did not know of any way in which she could earn +it, or anybody she could ask to lend it to her, unless, indeed, Mrs. +Lilly would help her. + +This was a new idea, and Sarah turned it over in her mind as she sat on +the dry, rocky ground under the spruce trees. Mrs. Lilly had never been +anything but kind to her, and Sarah was not disposed to resent the old +lady's having forbidden Fanny to play with her. + +"I should feel just so in her place, I know," she thought. "Though, +after all, I don't see that Fanny is so much better than I am, only her +folks are respectable. I wish I hadn't touched the pie. It was real +mean. I wonder if she did laugh at me that night I came to the meeting? +I don't half believe it. I believe Fanny made up the story to scare me. +She was dreadfully afraid to have me see the old lady, for fear she +should find out something. I have a great mind to go and see her—not +to-day, though, because she has company. What a cunning, sweet little +thing Annie is! I can think of Ally being just like her if she only had +a chance." + +And then Sarah began thinking over what Annie had said about Celia's +returning the doll, and to wonder, if she should follow Celia's +example, whether it would not be a right way of beginning that "being +good" which she still desired; and a verse came into her mind which she +had heard long ago. + +"What was that? 'If we confess our sins, he is faithful to forgive us +our sins'—something like that; Aunt Sally used to say it, and I guess +it is in the Bible somewhere. If only I could tell of myself and not of +Fanny! I don't want to get her into trouble." + +Sarah sat still for some time, now pondering Annie's simple remarks, +now turning over in her mind various plans, possible and impossible, +for the accomplishment of her purpose. At last she rose, and ascending +the mountain for some distance, she began a busy search for certain +ferns and flowering plants which grow in those higher regions. + +"Mr. Brandon seemed to think so much of them," she said to herself, "I +will carry him a bunch of them, and maybe I shall get a chance to speak +to the old lady." + +Sarah had succeeded in her search, and, with full hands, was descending +the hill toward the house, when she met Willy. + +"Sarah, have you seen little Annie Mercer?" was Willy's first greeting. + +"Seen her? No—not since twelve or one o'clock," replied Sarah, in +surprise. "Why? What do you mean? What has happened to Annie?" + +"That is just what nobody knows," replied Willy. "She went up to the +spring with Fanny this morning, and Fanny says she brought her back as +far as the garden fence and watched her almost into the house, but she +never came in, and we can't find her anywhere. Where was she when you +saw her?" + +"She was up at the spring with Fanny," answered Sarah. "Does Fanny say +she took Annie back to the garden?" + +"Yes, but we don't know what to believe, she tells so many different +stories." + +Sarah had a quick mind, and even while Willy was speaking, she saw all +the terrible possibilities of the case. + +"It is not true, Willy," said she, speaking low, but fast and clearly. +"Fanny never went back with Annie. We left her alone at the spring. +I never thought of any danger, and I wanted to speak to Fanny, so I +told Annie to wait at the spring and I would bring her some shells. +Then Fanny and I went up on the hill and talked a little while, and I +found a lot of snail shells. See, here they are now. When we came back, +Annie was gone. I supposed, of course, she had gone home, and yet I +felt a little uneasy, so I made Fanny go home, and told her to wave +her handkerchief if it was all right. She did wave it, and I thought +Annie was safe. Willy, she is lost in the woods; she has gone up on the +mountain." + +"Why do you think she has gone up?" asked Willy. + +"Lost children always do," replied Sarah. "They always go up and up. +* Don't stop to talk. Run home and tell them how it was, and bid them +send for old John Steeprock and his dog directly. Tell them that it was +my fault, but that I never thought of any danger, and that I am going +to look for Annie myself." + + * This is the general belief in mountainous countries. I do not vouch +for its truth. + +"But you will be lost too," said Willy, divided between anger and +admiration. "It is almost night, and you will lose your way, and +perhaps die in the woods." + +"Never mind me," returned Sarah. "I know the mountain pretty well, and +sha'n't die for staying out one night in the woods. And if I should, +nobody will miss me but Ally. Never mind me, but run home; only, Willy—" + +Willy came back to hear. + +"Tell Mrs. Lilly I stole the pie and I am sorry, and ask her, if +anything happens to me, to be good to Ally." + +And Sarah turned and went rapidly up the steep path. + +Willy ran down toward the house and speedily entered the parlour, where +Mr. Brandon was again trying to extract the truth from Fanny. Fanny now +varied so far from her first story as to say that she only came with +Annie to the fence and went back again. + +"That is all stuff, Mr. Brandon," said Willy, unceremoniously bursting +into the conversation. "Fanny never came with her an inch. She went +up in the spruce woods with Sarah Leyman, and left Annie alone at the +spring." + +"How do you know, Willy?" asked Mrs. Lilly. "Who told you?" + +"Sarah herself told me just now," replied Willy. And he repeated the +conversation he had just held with Sarah, adding, "And, Grandma Lilly, +she says she took that pie that day, and she is very sorry, and if +anything happens to her, will you please be good to Ally?" + +"Where is Sarah Leyman?" asked Mrs. Lilly. + +"She has gone up on the mountain to look for Annie." + +"Lord help her, what can she do?" said Mrs. Lilly. "She will only be +lost herself." + +"I don't know about that," said Willy; "Sarah knows the mountain pretty +well. And oh, I forgot: Sarah says you must go up the mountain, because +lost children always go up, and you must send for old John Steeprock +and his dog directly." + +"That is an excellent suggestion," said Mr. Brandon. "I did not know +the old man was alive." + +"He! He will live for ever, I believe," said Oney, speaking according +to the common Indian belief, "unless he gets tired of it, and stops of +his own accord. Suppose I jump on John Crane's horse and go after the +old man myself. I can coax him round if he happens to be in one of his +sulky fits." + +"Do, Oney! Oh, Fanny, if you had only told us this at first, instead of +lying so!" exclaimed Mrs. Lilly, wringing her hands. "Just see how much +time we have lost by your wickedness!" + +"I don't care. I'm sure it was not my fault that Sarah wanted to speak +to me," replied Fanny. "And I should have told, only you told me not +to play with Sarah. And I'm sure I couldn't help it, and I didn't mean +to," cried Fanny, with a full burst of sobs. "It is all your fault, +telling me not to play with her." + +"Go up to your room and stay there," said Mrs. Lilly. "I wish you had +never come into my house." + +"I'm sure I didn't want to come," sobbed Fanny. "I wanted to go with my +mother, and I always knew that you didn't know how to manage me." + +Mrs. Lilly took Fanny by the man and led her to her own room. What +happened there I have no means of knowing, but I very much suspect that +Fanny got, as the nurses say, "something to cry for." If she did, it +must be confessed that she got no more than her deserts. + +In a very short time, Oney came back with John Steeprock, an old Indian +of her own tribe, who had lived on the outskirts of the mountain time +out of mind, and from his strength and activity seemed likely to live +much longer. Steeprock listened to the story. + +"Bad—bad!" said he, shaking his head. "S'pose fog come down, little +girl maybe die. S'pose she full into hole—bad business!" + +Mr. Brandon was about to speak, but Oney whispered to him, "Don't +interrupt him; let him manage his own way. If you put him in a bad +humour, you won't get any good of him. Let him go on his own way." + +Old Steeprock ruminated for a minute in silence. Then he said, "You got +little girl's shoe?" + +Mrs. Cassell had bought a second pair of shoes for Annie, and she +quickly produced them. + +"Good!" said the old man, taking them in his hand. "Now we go up to the +spring. You call the other boys." + +The searching party were soon assembled at the spring. It was now +nearly six o'clock, and a fine though cool evening. Steeprock looked +about him, examined the ground carefully, and at last seemed to make up +his mind. + +"You let me be captain?" he asked. + +"Yes, yes. Manage it your own way," said two or three of the men. + +"Good!" returned the old man, evidently much gratified. "You all got +guns or pistols?" + +Three or four guns and revolvers were produced. + +"Good!" said Steeprock, again. "Now, then, you Crane boys, go 'that' +way; you Willsons, go 'that' way," indicating the direction with his +finger. "If you find her alive, shoot three times; if dead, only once." + +The men moved off, leaving Steeprock and Mr. Brandon by the spring. +Steeprock called his dog, which was hunting about in the fallen leaves, +talked to him in the Indian language, and held Annie's little shoe to +his nose. The dog smelled it, wagged his tail, and began snuffing the +ground, till, having found what he sought, he set off at a rapid pace +up the path which Fanny and Sarah had taken. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_ON THE MOUNTAIN._ + +AND where was Annie all this time? Hurrying along toward the top of the +great mountain as fast as her weary little legs could carry her, often +stumbling and falling, now and then sitting down to rest and get her +breath and cry for "grandma" and "Fanny," and then drying her tears and +setting off again. + +Annie had waited at the spring for what seemed a very long time, though +in reality it was not more than twenty minutes. She had never been +alone in the woods before. Indeed, she had never been in the woods at +all, and she began to be a little scared at the loneliness, and at the +kind of murmuring, whispering silence which prevailed around her. + +She thought at first that she would go home, and then she reflected +that perhaps grandma would not like it if she came home alone. She +was not quite sure that she could climb the fence, and Sarah had +said something, she did not know exactly what, about a bull. Then an +odd fancy came into her silly little head. Mary Patterson, who was +an English girl, had told her about the gypsies and how they stole +children. What if that dark, wild-looking girl with the curly hair +should be a gypsy, who had coaxed Fanny into the woods to do her some +mischief? + +"But I won't believe any such nonsense," said Annie, stoutly. "Fanny +knew her before, and she was real good to me. I dare say she is looking +for snail shells all the time. I wonder if there would be any harm in +my going a little way up the path to see if they are coming?" + +Annie hesitated a minute or two, and then she concluded to venture. +She went a little way and then a little farther, and then she saw a +very pretty sight—no less than a family of young squirrels at play on +a fallen tree. She watched them for a few minutes, and then ventured +a little nearer and a little nearer. Then she saw a beautiful flower, +and thought she would get it for Uncle Hugh. She did so, and then all +at once bethinking herself that the girls might come back and miss her, +she turned round and hurried back toward the spring. + +She walked on and on, wondering that she did not come to the place, +and that she saw so many things which she had not noticed before. +Meantime, the path, such as it was, grew narrower and rougher, till all +at once Annie found herself at a spring, indeed, but not the one she +had left nor at all like it. This spring boiled up in a little pool at +the foot of a precipice so high that Annie could hardly see the top, +and the rocks seemed just ready to fall on her head. In fact, many of +them had already fallen, and lay round in wild confusion, while the +earth between them was soft and boggy, so that Annie had wet her boots +through and through before she was aware. + +In the midst of the rocks and in the water lay a good many bones +bleached and scattered. Annie did not know enough to perceive that +they were the bones of a sheep or calf. She had a kind of horror of +dry bones, and would never touch or go near one if she could help it, +and she turned and hurried away out of sight of the place. She had the +sense to see that this was not the spring she had left, and she thought +she must return to that as quickly as possible. + +So she turned and ran back again, taking, as she supposed, the same +path, but she only involved herself in fresh difficulties. And at last, +thoroughly bewildered, she sat down to rest and to think what she had +better do. She looked round. The place was so entirely strange that it +might almost have been in another world from that which the little girl +had inhabited hitherto. Great black evergreen trees grew all around +her, and the ground beneath was brown and slippery from the fallen +spruce and hemlock needles. Great rocks peeped through the soil, or lay +scattered upon it, as if they had at some time fallen from the sky. + +Everything was very still, but as Annie listened she heard at a great +distance, as it seemed, a strange wild scream and then another. It was +the cry of the eagles which lived on the upper part of the mountain, +but Annie did not know that. Gradually, as she sat there, the knowledge +grew upon her that she did not know where she was, that she was +lost—lost on the great mountain, where Sarah had warned her not to go +on any account, where, as she knew, more than one person had been lost +and never found again. Perhaps the bones were those of people who had +strayed away before her, who had died all alone in the woods and had +never even been buried. + +That was a silly fancy, but Annie was only a very little girl, and +older and wiser people have lost their heads on being lost in the +woods. She burst into tears and called aloud for grandma and Uncle +Hugh, but stopped suddenly, for somebody or something in the woods +seemed mocking her, repeating the words over and over again, fainter +and fainter every time. It was only the mountain echo, but Annie did +not know anything about echoes. She was frightened at the sound; and +starting to her feet, she ran away as fast as she could, which was not +very fast, for the ground began to be very steep and rugged. + +By this time, Annie was quite beside herself. She remembered that +they had come up hill all the way to Mrs. Lilly's, and that grandma +had told her before leaving home that morning that Mrs. Lilly lived +on the mountain, and she reasoned in her confused little mind that if +she could only climb high enough, she should find the old red house +and grandma. So she climbed on, often falling and hurting herself, now +getting on easily a little way, now stopping to rest. And once finding +a bed of soft green moss, she lay down and slept for two or three +hours, the deep, heavy sleep of exhaustion. + +When she awoke, it was nearly dark in the woods, for the sun was below +the mountain-top, though he still shone on the other side. Annie felt +weak and exhausted, but her sleep had refreshed her, and after she +remembered where she was and how she came there, she rose and struggled +on. + +At last she could go no farther, and it was well she could not, for she +was now come into a very dangerous part of the mountain, where there +were many deep holes and cracks, some of them partly filled with water. +If she had fallen into one of them, she would probably never be found +again either dead or alive, for the place had an ill name, and few even +of the boldest hunters ever came near it. + +Annie sat down on the ground in dumb despair, too wretched even to +cry, too hopeless to make another effort. She sat on the ground, with +her elbows on her knees and her hands supporting her chin, and thought +about herself and her condition almost as if she had been another +person. She was lost on the mountain like the poor hunter she had heard +of; and, like him, she would most likely never be found again. She +would die there in that lonely place and never go home, never see the +new baby sister who had come since she left home, and never, never see +papa and mamma any more. + +She thought of her little cousin Grace Belden—how she had died in +her crib in the safe, warm nursery, with mamma holding her hands and +talking to her about heaven and the Lord Jesus. There would be nobody +to hold her hand and talk to her when she was dying, nor to dress her +body in soft white cashmere and lay it tenderly in the little white +coffin, as they had done with Grace—nobody to take her to the church +and read the funeral service, and sing a funeral hymn so softly and +sweetly, as Mrs. Terry and her daughters had done for Grace. Perhaps +the robins would cover her body with leaves, as they had done with the +babes in the wood, and the angels would come and carry her away to +heaven. She did not think she should be afraid of them if they looked +like the picture which hung in mamma's room at home. + +But oh, she did want to see mamma once more. She rose and tried to +walk, but she sat down directly. One of her boots had come off, and she +had so hurt her foot on the sharp stones that it bled. Besides, her +head was dizzy, and a mist came over her eyes when she stood up. No; +she must just sit still where she was, and perhaps somebody would come. + +She had lighted on a place where she could sit down and lean her +back against a rock. She had not climbed directly up, but rather in +a slanting direction along the side of the mountain. Still, she had +climbed very high—higher than any one would believe who did not know +how fast and how far lost children will travel. + +The wind blew cool, and Annie was thinly dressed, for it had been a +warm day, and nobody had expected her to be out in the evening. The +cold and fatigue made her drowsy, and she was almost asleep, when she +suddenly started to her feet. Had she dreamed it? Was it one of the +voices which had mocked her in the woods and whispered in the tops of +the trees, or had some one called her name? She listened intently. Yes, +it was so. + +"Annie! Annie Mercer!" rung out in a clear voice. "Annie, are you here?" + +"Yes, oh yes!" called Annie, in a joyful tone. "Oh, do come!" + +"I am coming. Keep still where you are. Don't stir!" called the voice +again. + +Annie stood like a statue, hardly breathing. She heard steps among +the dry leaves, and in another moment, Sarah Leyman burst through the +bushes and caught the child in her arms. + +"You blessed, dear little thing, I have found you at last!" exclaimed +Sarah, kissing Annie as if she would eat her up. "But how in the world +did you ever come here? Were you scared at the spring?" + +"I was very naughty," said Annie, penitently. "I ought to have minded, +but I didn't. And I went up the hill to find you, and there I saw some +squirrels. And I tried to go back, and then I came to a place where it +was all wet, and there were bones," said Annie, in a terrified whisper. +"I thought they were the bones of people who had been lost; were they?" + +"Oh no," said Sarah; "they were the bones of some animal which had +fallen off the rocks. Well, what then?" + +"Then I knew that I was lost, and I tried to find my way, and I +couldn't, and when I came up here I couldn't get any further, and so I +sat down." + +"And a very good thing you did," said Sarah. "But who would have +thought of your getting so far?" + +"How did you find me?" asked Annie. + +"That's more than I can tell you, Annie. I followed your track pretty +well to the green spring, and then it was pretty much all chance or +something else—I don't know what. I could see that you had started to +go up the hill, and I kept on after you, till by and by I found the +place where you lay down and left your hat. See, here it is. Then I +knew I was right so far, and I don't know why, but I felt sure you had +come up here." And Sarah kissed Annie once more. + +"It was very good in you to come and find me," said Annie, returning +the kiss. "I thought I should die all alone, and nobody would know +where I was, nor bury me, nor anything," she continued, piteously. "And +when I called, something kept mocking me, and whispering in the trees +overhead." + +"That was only the echo and the wind in the trees," replied Sarah. "It +could not hurt you." + +"I didn't know that," said Annie; "it made me afraid. Won't you take me +home to grandma?" + +Sarah's face darkened. She compressed her lips and looked round her. It +was now dark, and though the moon was risen, she gave them but little +light. + +"Why, there's the trouble, Annie," said she. "I don't see how we are to +get home to-night." + +"But I must go home," said the little girl, her wide blue eyes full of +terror. "I can't stay out in the woods all night. Oh, please, please, +do take me home to grandma!" wailed the poor child, in piteous tones. +"It is so dreadful up here, and I want to go to my own little bed." + +Sarah sat down and took Annie on her lap, holding her fast, for the +poor child was so horrified at the thought of staying out all night +that she had started to run away. + +"Annie dear, listen to me," said she, kindly but firmly. "Stop crying, +and sit still and try to listen and understand." + +Annie was a docile little thing, and she had always been taught to +mind. She stopped struggling, sat still, and presently checked her sobs +and looked up in Sarah's face. + +"I am good now," said she. "Won't you take me home?" + +"I want to tell you about it," said Sarah, still holding her. "I should +like to take you home and to go home myself. I don't want to stay out +in the woods any more than you do. But you see it is quite dark, only +the moon shines a little. There are a great many dangerous holes and +precipices round here. And if we should try to go down the mountain in +the dark, we should most likely fall and be killed, and then we should +never see grandma any more. I don't see but we must stay here till +morning, and then we will go down." + +"But we haven't any beds nor any supper," objected Annie. "And I am so +hungry, I don't know what to do." + +Sarah put her hand into her pocket and brought out two ginger cakes +which she had brought from home. + +"Here is some supper for you," said she; "and as for beds, we must do +the best we can. Sit still here and eat your cakes, and I will see what +I can do. There! Don't be frightened; I am not going away," she said, +in a soothing tone, as Annie threw her arms around her neck and clung +to her. "I wouldn't leave you for anything." + +Somewhat reassured and very hungry, Annie sat down and ate her cakes, +while Sarah looked about among the rocks, where she presently found a +little nook well enough suited to her purpose—a kind of recess or cave +formed by two great slabs of stone, leaning one against the other. + +"This will do," said she to herself; "now for a bed." + +She dared not go far away to seek materials, but she broke off all +the evergreen boughs within reach, and arranged them into a couch, +spreading her own apron over them. + +"There! That is the best that I can do," said she, returning to Annie's +side. "It is no great thing of a bed, but it is better than nothing. +Now let me loosen your clothes, and you shall lie down and sleep like a +little kitten, and I will watch by you. Don't be afraid. I don't think +anything will come near us." + +"And will you hear me say my prayers?" asked Annie. "Grandma always +does, or mamma when I am at home. Oh dear! What would mamma say if she +could see where I am?" + +"I am very glad she does not," was Sarah's thought. But she only said, +"Yes, dear, I will hear you say your prayers." + +Annie knelt down and repeated her simple prayer, ending, as usual, +with, "God bless papa and mamma, grandmamma and all my friends, and +dear little baby sister;" to which she added, "And bless Sarah because +she came to find me, and please keep us safe, and let somebody come and +find us pretty soon." + +"Now lie down and let me cover you up warm," said Sarah, after a little +silence. "I will sit down here close by you." + +She laid Annie down as she spoke, and heaped the branches under her +head, so as to make a pillow. Then she laid the child's jacket over her +and put more branches over her feet. + +"Thank you," said Annie. "May I say my evening hymn now?" + +"Yes, do. Say all the hymns you know. I love to hear them. Are you +warm?" + +"Not very," said Annie. + +Sarah took off her woollen frock and laid it over the child, and then +sat down by her. + +"Now listen, Annie," said she, impressively, laying her hand on the +child's arm. "When you wake up, whether it is night or morning, don't +you stir. You may speak to me, but if I don't answer, don't you move. +Lie still, and somebody will come and find you. Will you remember?" + +"Yes," answered Annie; "I will do just as you tell me." + +"That is a good girl. Now, say your hymns and try to go to sleep." + +Annie began to repeat her hymn, but presently her voice died away and +she was silent. + +Sarah hoped she was asleep, but presently she roused up again: + +"Sarah!" + +"Well, dear, here I am." + +"I forgot to say my Bible verse—the verse I learn every morning, you +know." + +"Well, say it now." + +"'I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only +makest me dwell in safety,'" repeated Annie, reverently. "I don't think +we ought to be afraid, Sarah. I think he will take care of us." + +"Annie," said Sarah, "suppose you had been very naughty indeed. Do you +think he would take care of you or care anything about you then?" + +"Why, yes," answered Annie, simply, "because he does take care of all +the wicked people all the time. They couldn't live if he didn't." + +A great wonder rose in Sarah's mind. Had her heavenly Father really +been taking care of her all this time, as Aunt Sally used to say he +would? She thought of all the risks she had run in her wild rambles, of +her encounter with the bull. Had he really taken care of her? Was it +his hand which had guided her to Annie? "And suppose we have been very +wicked and are sorry and want to be good, what must we do?" she asked. + +"We must be very sorry and ask him to forgive us and make us better, +and we must try never to do so again," she answered. + +"And will he forgive us and help us if we do so?" + +"Yes, it says so in the Bible. I don't remember the words." + +"Never mind," said Sarah. "Go to sleep like a good girl, and remember +what I said to you about lying still." + +"I will," said Annie. "Please kiss me goodnight." + +The two children—for Sarah was not much more—kissed each other +tenderly. Then Annie lay down to sleep, and Sarah sat by her, shivering +with the cold, her bare arms exposed to the wind. At last she crept +close to Annie's side, within the shelter of the rock; and leaning +against the side of the little cave, she fell into an uneasy slumber. + + + +[Illustration: _On the Mountain._ "If you find her, you shall have more +dollars than ever you saw in your life."] + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_THE SEARCH._ + +JOHN STEEPROCK'S dog guided his master and Mr. Brandon straight to the +green spring, but there he seemed puzzled. He smelt about, ran here +and there, and finally came back to his master, as if baffled in the +search. Steeprock patted him, talked to him in his own language, and +again showed him the little shoe, and the dog again set off up the +side of the mountain, but at a slower pace and as if still somewhat +uncertain. + +"What ails him?" asked Mr. Brandon. + +"Somebody else been here—been here only a little while ago. Don't you +be scared, Hugh. Dog know heap." + +"So I see," replied Hugh. "John, if you find her, you shall have more +dollars than ever you saw in your life." + +"Dollars very good," said the Indian, philosophically—"good to buy +tobacco and powder, and clothes," he added, after some consideration. +"But s'pose you no got one dollar in the world, me find nice little +girl all the same. You light um lantern." + +"What do you think the chances are?" asked Hugh as he stopped to light +the lantern. + +"Don't know," was answered rather gruffly. "Tell better when we get +through." + +"Perhaps the others will find her first." + +"They no find her," said Steeprock. "They good boys—want to do +something; so me tell them run, go where they do no harm," he added, in +a tone of benevolent condescension. "You and me, we get um out of the +way, and then go find her. Me old man, but know something yet." + +"I should think so," said Hugh, laughing despite his anxiety. "How old +are you?" + +"Don't know, exactly," replied the Indian. "You know when the great war +was when King George's men fight the Yankees at Bennington?" + +"Yes," said Hugh. + +"Well, then me tall boy, about like John Crane. Then I went on the +war-path with my father, the first time I ever take scalps." + +"Why, you must be over a hundred years old," said Hugh, in surprise. +"Is that possible?" + +"Very old man—just as I tell you. That day I took two scalps—got +'em now. When I die, I leave 'em to you, Hugh," said John, with a +benevolent air and tone, as of one who bestows a valuable curiosity. +"You good boy. I always like you. Waugh!" exclaimed John, interrupting +himself with the Indian's startling and inexpressible exclamation of +surprise as he held his light to the ground. + +"What now?" asked Hugh. + +"Another girl gone up here—not long ago, either. That make the dog so +puzzled and uneasy." + +"Another girl!" exclaimed Hugh, in astonishment. "How do you know?" + +"How I know anything? How you know what words mean when you read um +book? See um track plain as writing. Gone up about two hours ago." + +"It must be Sarah Leyman," said Hugh. "Willy said she had gone to look +for Annie." + +"Maybe so. That Leyman girl all same as Indian. Waugh!" exclaimed +Steeprock again as the dog came running back to them with something in +his mouth. It was Annie's little boot. + +"All right," said Steeprock, showing it to Hugh. "She been right up +here, and the other after her." + +"Then she must be near, dead or alive," said Hugh. + +The Indian shook his head gravely. + +"Maybe so—maybe not. Lost children travel very fast. Maybe she gone +clear up above the trees. Come on." And he resumed his walk, climbing +the more difficult path so fast that Hugh, though an experienced +woodsman, had some trouble in keeping up with him. + + +Sarah had slept about two hours, when she was awakened by the cold. She +put her hand on Annie. The child felt warm and was breathing softly. +She rose with some difficulty, for she was stiff with the cold and from +the cramped position in which she had been sitting. The moon had now +risen high enough to throw a good deal of light on the place where they +were, and Sarah could see to move about a little. She walked to and +fro on the narrow level platform in front of Annie's shelter, to warm +herself, and then began to pull more evergreen boughs and to lay them +over Annie. + +"I must keep awake if I can," she said to herself. "If I sleep, I shall +be chilled to death, and then what will become of the child? I don't +care so much about myself. I know Mrs. Lilly would find some way to +befriend Ally, and perhaps she would be all the better without me." + +As she spoke these words half aloud, she brushed Annie's face with one +of the branches she was laying over her. Annie opened her eyes. + +"What are you doing, Mary?" she said, in a sleepy tone. + +"Getting some more clothes to lay over you," replied Sarah. "Are you +warm enough?" + +"Yes, I am as warm as toast, but the bed feels so hard and lumpy." +Then waking more fully and realizing where she was, she broke out into +a pitiful little wail: "Oh, Sarah, I thought I was at home in my own +nursery, and mamma was just saying, 'Annie, don't let Pick lie on the +clean pillow.' Oh dear! I shall never see mamma nor Pick any more." + +Sarah could not speak, but she put her arms round Annie and kissed her +and held her in a close embrace. + +"Am I naughty to cry?" asked Annie, presently. + +"No, dear, you are not naughty, but I wouldn't cry if I could help it. +You will only make yourself sick, and I am sure mamma would not like +that. Tell me all about Pick. Is he your dog?" + +"No; he is my cat, and I have had him—oh, such a long time!" + +Sarah asked various questions about Pick, and Annie was gradually +diverted from her grief to talk of his beauty and accomplishments. + +"You haven't any brothers and sisters, have you?" asked Sarah. + +"No; only little baby sister that I haven't seen yet. Grace Belden used +to live at our house and be my sister, but she is dead now. She died +in the winter before I came here. People die everywhere, don't they, +Sarah?" + +"Yes, dear, and they live everywhere too," answered Sarah. + +"Grace never went up on the mountain," continued Annie, pursuing the +current of her own thoughts. "She never went into any dangerous places, +and she had mamma and Mary to take care of her." + +"And yet she died, you see," said Sarah. "And people have been in much +more dangerous places than this, and yet they have lived." + +"Have they?" asked Annie. "What sort of places?" + +"Shipwrecks and earthquakes and battles and fires," said Sarah. "I read +the other day of a baby which was carried off by a tiger, and yet it +was saved." + +"My papa has been in a great many battles, and he never was even +wounded," said Annie. "Do you think we shall ever get away from here, +Sarah?" + +"Oh yes," returned Sarah, hopefully. "Everybody will be looking for you +by this time. But you must mind what I tell you, and not stir from this +place, whatever happens." + +"I will mind," said Annie. "But won't you be here, Sarah?" + +"Yes, but I might be asleep or something," answered Sarah. + +She began to realize their position more clearly than she had done +before. They were a long way from any frequented part of the mountain. +It was very cold, and she was thinly dressed, even if she had not given +up her frock to Annie, and she thought it not unlikely that she might +be chilled to death by morning. + +"Annie," said she, "do you know any more Bible verses?" + +"Oh yes, a great many." + +"Say them for me, will you? They will help to pass away the time." + +Annie repeated her texts reverently. Sarah listened with fixed +attention. + +"Say that again," said she, as Annie repeated, "'Come unto me, all ye +that labour.' Who said that?" + +"The Lord Jesus," answered Annie; "and oh, Sarah, I know some more +pretty verses, about a lost sheep. They were in my lesson last Sunday." +And Annie repeated the parable beginning, "'What man of you, having an +hundred sheep—'" + +"Grandma said that meant the Lord Jesus," said Annie. "She said his +people were his sheep; and when one of them strays away and gets +lost, he goes and finds him and brings him back. 'We' are lost in the +wilderness, you know, Sarah." + +"I know 'I' am," said Sarah, sadly. + +"And so I think he will send some one to find us. Is it almost morning?" + +"Not yet, but it will be pretty soon. I guess you had better lie down +again. I am afraid you will catch cold." + +"I 'am' cold," said Annie, shivering. "Are you?" + +"Lie down, and I will lie down by you; then we can keep each other +warm." + +Annie was soon asleep again, but Sarah could not sleep. She was too +cold and anxious; and besides that, her head was full of new ideas. Was +God really her Father? Had he taken care of her all these years that +she had gone on never thinking of him or caring to please him? Did he +really love her, and was she one of those lost sheep the Lord had come +to find? + +She began to think over all she had heard about him. It was not much. +As she had truly told Fanny, her father would not permit good books to +come into his house. All she knew of the sacred volume she had learned +by reading it in the district school, and she had never been to school +very regularly. Yet she could remember a good many things, after all. +There was the verse Deacon Crane had talked about at the meeting that +night. + +Suppose she should confess her sins then and there, would He indeed +forgive them and take them all away, as the deacon had said? Yes, it +was all true. She felt quite sure that it was true. She hid her face +in her hands for a long time; and when she again raised it, her bright +black eyes were wet with tears, and her face wore an expression of +peaceful awe. + +She drew the covering closer over Annie, and lay down as near as +possible to her side, repeating Annie's verse, "'I will both lay me +down in peace, and sleep.'" + +She had hardly lost herself five minutes when something roused her. +She sat up and listened intently. Yes, some animal was coming up the +mountain-side directly toward them. She could hear the patter of its +feet on the dry leaves, and her heart beat fast and thick. Could it be +a wolf or a panther? It was not unlikely, for there were plenty of them +on the other side of the mountain, she knew. She could now hear the +sound distinctly, and see the movement of the branches below. Oh for +a club or a stout stick! She snatched up a stone—the only weapon she +could find—and threw herself directly before Annie, but she dropped it +the next moment as the supposed wolf pushed his way through the bushes +and sprung upon her neck, licking her face and hands and yelping with +delight. + +Hugh and Steeprock were still some distance below, and had stopped an +instant to take breath, when Fox came dashing down toward them. He ran +to his master, jumped upon him, and then ran back the way he had come. +The Indian uttered a yell which resounded far and wide; and springing +forward as if his great age had been no more than five-and-twenty, he +bounded up the mountain-side at a pace which left Hugh far behind. + +Hugh followed as quickly as he could, and stood at his side. The old +man was bending down, and beckoned him to approach. + +There lay Annie, fast asleep on her bed of leaves, and across the +entrance of the little cave lay Sarah, looking as if she were in the +sleep that knows no waking in this world. + +"Are they dead?" Hugh managed somehow to ask. + +"Not the little one," replied Steeprock. "She fast asleep. You got +bottle in your pocket?" + +Hugh produced his travelling-flask, and with some difficulty forced +some of the spirit it contained between Sarah's lips. She gasped, +sighed, and opened her eyes. + +"Where is Annie?" was her first question. + +"Here, safe and sound. Annie dear, wake up. Here is Uncle Hugh come for +you." + +"Uncle Hugh!" said Annie, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "How did you +come here?" + +"I came after you, my little lost lamb," said Mr. Brandon, taking Annie +in his arms, "but I see somebody was before me. My dear girl, what has +become of your frock?" + +"I put it over Annie," said Sarah, blushing crimson, and shrinking into +the farthest corner of the cave, as she suddenly remembered that she +was half undressed. "I was so afraid she would freeze to death." And +pulling out her dress from among the green branches, she slipped it on +with all speed. + +"Ugh! S'pose you freeze yourself," said Steeprock. "What you say now, +Hugh? Didn't I tell you another girl gone up here? Old Indian no fool, +eh?" + +"No, indeed! But who could guess that they could both reach this place +without being killed?" + +"God took care of us, I guess," said Annie, who was now quite cool and +collected. "But how did you know where we were?" + +"It was this good old man who found you, my dear," said Hugh, turning +to Steeprock, who was composedly filling his pipe by way of improving +the time. "But I am afraid all our finding would have been in vain, +only for Sarah. My dear girl, how shall we ever thank you?" + +"You needn't thank me at all," replied Sarah, rather gruffly. "Annie +never would have been lost only for me. It was all my fault, leaving +her alone in the first place." + +"No, it wasn't your fault, either," said Annie, rather petulantly. "I +ought to have minded, and stayed at the spring when you went to get the +snail shells for me. Did you find any?" + +"Yes, here they are in my pocket," said Sarah, laughing rather +hysterically. "I will get you something prettier some day." + +"And you made my bed and put your own frock over me, and heard me say +my prayers, and all," continued Annie. "I think you are the 'bestest' +girl in the world." + +"Pretty nice girl!" said Steeprock, approvingly. "Once I had a daughter +just so big. You pretty nice girl too. S'pose you got kiss for old +Indian?" + +Annie put up her face to be kissed, though. She felt considerable awe +of the old man. + +"Now we go home," continued Steeprock. "You take the baby, and I take +this one." + +"I'm not a baby," said Annie, indignantly. "I am seven years old, and I +can read and write." + +"Oh no; you great big woman," said the Indian, soothingly. "All the +same; you let Hugh carry you." + +Annie was very willing to be carried, and the party set out to return. +The proverb that "to go down the hill is easy" is not always true, by +any means. The descent in the present instance was both difficult and +dangerous. They could only go very slowly and carefully, and Sarah, who +was much exhausted, fell more than once. + +"You fire your pistol," said Steeprock, at last. "Maybe someone hear +and come to meet us. This girl can't walk much farther. She clear worn +out." + +"Never mind me," said Sarah, sitting down wearily. "I can stay here +very well. Just carry Annie home, and leave me here." + +"That would not do at all," said Mr. Brandon. He fired three shots as +he spoke—the signal which had been agreed upon. + +An answering shout told that he had been heard, and presently three or +four of the young men came up. A volley of shots now rang through the +woods, proclaiming to all within hearing that the lost child was found. +Two of the Crane boys made a "lady chair" with their hands, and Sarah +was persuaded to let herself be carried down to the red house. She +began to feel very tired and confused, and nearly fell from her seat +more than once. + +Mrs. Cassell and Mrs. Lilly were called out by the shouts, and met the +party in the garden. + +"It was all my fault, grandma," called out Annie as soon as she saw +Mrs. Cassell. "Sarah thinks it was hers, but it wasn't. And she found +me 'way up in the mountain, and made me a nice little bed." + +"It was even so," said Mr. Brandon. "Sarah found her first, and her +care and good sense saved the child's life." + +"Bless you, my dear!" said Mrs. Lilly, taking Sarah in her arms and +kissing her. "But how cold you are! You are shivering all over. You +must go right to bed and have some hot soup. Oney has it all ready on +the stove." + +"I guess I had better go home," said Sarah, wearily. "I shall make you +too much trouble." + +"You don't stir a foot this night," said Mrs. Lilly, positively. "You +must go to bed directly." + +Sarah was in no condition to resist Mrs. Lilly's strenuous kindness, +even if she had wished to do so. A deathly faintness was stealing over +her; and when she was undressed by Oney and put into bed, her head +sank on the pillow as if it would never rise again. She wanted nothing +but to lie still. But Oney, whose experienced eye knew the symptoms +of dangerous exhaustion, would not let her sleep till she had taken +several spoonfuls of strong hot soup. + +At last, all was still. The neighbours who had helped in the search +were dismissed with thanks. Old Steeprock camped down on the kitchen +floor, with his dog beside him, preferring that accommodation to +Willy's bed, which the boy offered him. Annie was already asleep in her +grandmother's arms, and all was quiet about the old red house. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +_REPENTANCE._ + +THE next day Annie did not get up, but in the course of a week, she was +playing about as lively as ever. But Sarah still lay on her sick-bed, +and it seemed doubtful whether she would ever rise from it again. The +chill she had received on the mountain resulted in an attack of acute +rheumatism, which chained her hand and foot, and was accompanied by a +severe cough. + +It was well for her that she was at Mrs. Lilly's instead of at home. +Mrs. Lilly put her into the best bedroom down stairs, and she and Oney +waited on her night and day, while Mrs. Cassell and Mrs. Brandon made +her up a set of nice underclothes, and nobody thought anything too +much to do for the girl who had risked her own life to save little +Annie. Sarah's mother came to see her, and would fain have established +herself at the red house altogether, but she was nothing of a nurse, +and it seemed as if she could not come near Sarah without hurting her. +Besides, as Oney said, she needed twice as much waiting on as Sarah +herself. And so Mrs. Lilly, who was not a woman to be imposed upon, +soon gave her to understand that Sarah did not need her, and that she +had better go home and take care of her own house and family. + +Mrs. Leyman departed, shaking off the dust from her feet, and declaring +that she would never enter the house again, whatever happened. They had +got Sarah away from her, she said, and now they might take care of her +till they were tired of it. They were a set of Pharisees, anyhow, who +never would do anything for poor folks except in their own way; and if +Sarah was going to join them and turn against her, she (Mrs. Leyman) +would have no more to do with her. + +For three or four weeks Sarah lay very sick, and Dr. Perkins came every +day to see her. She was wonderfully patient and grateful for all that +was done for her, and Mrs. Lilly said it was surprising to see the +wild girl so tamed. One day, when Sarah was able to talk a little, she +called the old lady to her bedside. + +"Mrs. Lilly," said she, "do you think I shall ever get well?" + +"I don't know, my dear," answered Mrs. Lilly, frankly. "I hope so, but +nobody can say for certain." + +"Did Willy tell you what I told him that day—I mean about the pie and +the gingerbread?" asked Sarah. + +"Yes; he told me that you got them, and that you were sorry. Did you +ever take anything else?" + +"No," replied Sarah; "only I have sometimes picked an apple when I was +going through the orchard. I got the pie more in fun than for anything +else." + +"So I supposed," said Mrs. Lilly. "Did Fanny know about it?" + +"I don't want to say anything about Fanny," replied Sarah. Then, after +a pause: "Mrs. Lilly, did you and Oney really make fun of me for coming +to the meeting that night, and say you should think I would be ashamed +to come looking so?" + +"Of course not," answered Mrs. Lilly. "I was very glad to see you +there, as I told you at the time. Who could have told you such a story?" + +"Never mind," said Sarah. "Somebody did, and I was just fool enough +to believe it. It almost killed me, I can tell you. I made up my mind +that night that I would try to be good, and I was going to ask you to +give me a Bible or Testament, and then Fanny—" Sarah stopped short and +looked very much vexed. + +"Go on," said Mrs. Lilly, quietly. "'And then Fanny—'" + +"I didn't mean to tell," said Sarah, "but it is out now. Well, Fanny +told me how you made fun of me for coming, and said you meant to shut +me up in the asylum. That almost broke my heart, for I always thought +you were so good—like Aunt Sally. And when I heard that, it made me +feel as if there was nothing real or true in heaven or earth, and I +might as well do one thing as another." + +"Poor child! I don't wonder. But now tell me, Sarah—for it is very +important that I should know the true story—did Fanny have anything to +do with stealing the pie?" + +"Well, I suppose I may as well, though I never meant to say a word +about it," said Sarah. And she went on to give the whole history of +that unlucky Sunday afternoon. + +"I felt sorry enough afterward," she concluded, "and I wanted to tell +you so, and to make it up somehow, but Fanny seemed afraid to have me +say a word, and I thought it would be mean to get her into a scrape +after I had eaten my share of the pie. I sent you the raspberries, +though, to make up. And afterward, when the bull chased us—I don't know +whether you heard about that—" + +"Yes, Willy told me." + +"Well, then I wanted to tell you again, but Fanny wouldn't consent. She +said afterward that you were very angry with me for letting the bull +out of his pasture, but indeed I didn't do it." + +"He did not get out of the pasture," said Mrs. Lilly. "He was in +his stable, and I don't know to this day how he got loose. I always +supposed it was some of Pat's carelessness, and never thought of +blaming you." + +"Well, there is no use in going over it all," said Sarah, wearily. +"Only that night when I was up on the mountain with Annie, I heard her +say her little prayers and verses before she went to sleep. And she +told me some things in her innocent way that encouraged me, and I made +up my mind that if I got down alive, I would try to be a Christian like +Aunt Sally. And I want you to tell me how, for I don't know any more +about it than a wild Indian or a heathen." + +"I am sure I will tell you all I know, my dear child," said Mrs. Lilly, +much affected. "The way is very plain and easy, as the Scripture says, +'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved'—believe +that he came to save all of us, and you in particular; that he died to +redeem you, and that he now lives in heaven to intercede for you." + +"Do you mean that he really cares about 'me'—me in particular?" asked +Sarah, with eyes full of wonder. + +"I mean just that, Sarah. You are one of the lost sheep that, he came +to seek and to save. If you will but believe on him, your sins will +be forgiven and washed away, and God will give you the Holy Spirit to +dwell in your heart and help you to do right." + +"It seems too good to be true," said Sarah. "Is it in the Bible? Read +it to me, please, will you?" + +Mrs. Lilly brought her old Bible and read, and Sarah lay and listened +till a look of sweet peace and contentment stole over her face. But +presently she grew troubled again. + +"I have been so wicked," said she. "I never really knew before how bad +I have been. It doesn't seem as if he could ever forgive 'me'." + +"'Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow,'" +repeated Mrs. Lilly. "Scarlet is the hardest colour to get out. The +paper-makers say so, and they have to use the red rags to make that +reddish blotting-paper that you have seen. When God forgives us, he +washes away our sins and makes our souls clean and white again. And so +he will do by you, if you ask him to do it for his dear Son's sake." + +"I am sure I 'am' sorry," murmured Sarah. "Mrs. Lilly, please ask him +for me." + +Mrs. Lilly prayed with Sarah, and Sarah joined in the prayer with her +whole heart. + +"Now you have talked enough for once," said Mrs. Lilly, after a little +silence. "Another time we will take the subject up again." + +"I want to say one thing more," said Sarah, eagerly—"only one thing, +because I may not be able to talk another time. Please sit down and let +me tell you, and then my mind will be quite easy." + +Mrs. Lilly sat down again, wisely thinking it better to let Sarah free +her mind, and Sarah went over her plan for seeing her Aunt Caroline and +persuading her to take Ally. + +"Was that what you wanted Fanny to give you the money for?" asked Mrs. +Lilly. + +"Yes, but I never asked her to give it to me. I only wanted to borrow +it till I could earn something. But won't you write to Aunt Caroline +yourself, and tell her the story and ask her to take Ally and bring her +up? She may have her all to herself, and I won't even come near her if +Aunt Caroline doesn't want me to. Ally is real clever and good, though +she isn't pretty, and I am sure Aunt Caroline would like her and do +well by her. Won't you ask her, please?" + +"I will write this very day," said Mrs. Lilly. "I think your plan is +an excellent one. But now you must rest, and try to sleep before the +doctor comes, or he will scold us all round for letting you talk so +much." + +Mrs. Lilly wrote that day, as she had promised, and read the letter to +Sarah, but she added a postscript which she did not think it necessary +to show. + +The result was that Aunt Caroline came over to see the state of things +for herself. She made acquaintance with the girls and talked matters +over with Mrs. Lilly, and finally she carried Ally home to live with +her, taking the precaution to have her legally bound till she came of +age. + +Mr. Leyman demurred at first, but certain little matters in the line +of stealing lumber and iron from the quarries having come to Squire +Holden's ears, it was hinted to Mr. Leyman that unless he consented to +do what was deemed best for his children, the place would speedily be +made too hot to hold him. Mr. Leyman sold his place not long afterward, +and he and his wife, accompanied by Miss Clarke, went off to Utah, +regretted by nobody in Hillsborough. + + +And where was Fanny all this time? Fanny was more unhappy and more +ashamed than she had ever been before in all her life. She had made up +her mind that as Annie was found, and, as she expressed it, no great +harm was done, after all, things would go on just as usual. + +She had come down to the breakfast table next morning prepared to be +very amiable, and even expecting to be something of a heroine for her +share in the adventure. She was astounded when Mrs. Lilly ordered her +back to her room with an admonition not to leave it again till she had +permission, which, she added, would not be very soon. In vain Fanny +cried and protested that she didn't mean to and she couldn't help it. +Mrs. Lilly was deaf to all such excuses. She saw that Fanny needed a +severe lesson, and she meant that it should not be wanting. + +For a whole week Fanny stayed in her room, with nobody to speak to, +and no other recreation than a very short walk every day with her +grandmother or Oney. When she was at last permitted to come down +stairs, she found that her troubles were by no means at an end. Nobody +took any notice of her. Nobody asked her any questions or listened when +she spoke, her grandmother only saying,— + +"I don't want to hear anything from you, Fanny. You have told so many +lies that nobody can believe a word you say, and so I prefer that you +should say nothing." + +Fanny was not allowed to go out of sight of the door, and she was +made in every way to feel that nobody trusted her. At first she tried +to harden herself and think that she did not care, and then that she +was terribly abused, but all did not answer. She was very miserable, +and began to wish in earnest to be a good girl. The first sign of +improvement was seen in her beginning to wait upon Sarah, who was now +able to sit up and to use her hands a little, though she could not walk +or even bear her weight at all. Fanny had begun by keeping entirely out +of her way, and putting on a very injured look whenever Sarah's name +was mentioned before her. But now she began to do little offices for +the invalid—to bring her fresh water and set flowers on the table by +her side, at first without speaking a word. One day she rather timidly +asked Sarah if she should read for her. + +"Oh yes, please," said Sarah, eagerly. "My eyes are so soon tired, and +it hurts me to hold the book." + +"I will read to you every day if you want me to," said Fanny. "I love +to read aloud." + +"I am sure I shall be glad to have you," said Sarah. "Fanny, are you +angry with me now?" + +"No," replied Fanny, sadly, "but I did not know whether you would care +to have me talk to you. Nobody does, nowadays." + +Sarah did not exactly know what to say, so she bent forward and kissed +Fanny. Fanny returned the kiss and burst into tears. + +"Don't cry," said Sarah, tenderly. + +"I can't help it," sobbed Fanny, "I am so very unhappy. But I won't +bother you with my crying. I have made trouble enough already." + +"Fanny," said Sarah, detaining her as Fanny was about to go away, "why +don't you tell Grandma Lilly all about it, and ask her to forgive you? +I am sure she would if you asked her. She did me." + +"You were not half so bad as I have been," said Fanny. "Oh, Sarah, I +was so mean to you. I told you grandma made fun of you, and it wasn't +true. And all the time I used to play with you, I felt so above you." + +"I know you did," answered Sarah. "I never could understand why; +though, of course, your folks were rich and respectable, and all that, +but that was no merit of yours. But never mind now. Come, Fanny, tell +grandma all about it. I am sure you will feel better, and that she will +forgive you, and it will be all right again." + +Fanny shook her head sadly. "I don't feel as if it would ever be right +again," said she. "Don't you want a hot brick for your feet?" + +"Yes, please. They are cold nearly all the time." + + +The next day Oney was going over to R—, and Fanny timidly asked if she +might send for some worsted. + +"Yes, if you choose," said Mrs. Lilly. "Why do you want it?" + +"I want to crochet some thick, warm slippers for Sarah. She says her +feet are cold all the time." + +"Very well," said Mrs. Lilly, evidently pleased. "Tell Oney what you +want, and she will buy it for you." + +"I would rather buy it with my own money, please," said Fanny. + +"Oh, very well. If you want to make Sarah a pretty present, I have no +objection, my dear." + +It was the first time Mrs. Lilly had said "my dear" since that unlucky +day, and the words brought the tears into Fanny's eyes. She had begun +to feel the value of that kindness and affection which she had always +accepted as her just due. + +"I am sure I should like to do something for somebody," said she. + +"You can do a great deal for everybody, Fanny, but then you must begin +in the right way." + +Oney bought the worsted, and Fanny began the slippers. She was rather +apt to grow tired of work and throw it aside when it was half done, but +she persevered with the slippers, and Sarah was delighted with them. + +"I never saw anything so pretty, and how soft and warm they are!" said +she. "If I had some wool, I would try making a pair for Grandma Lilly. +I know how to crochet a little." + +Now, Fanny had decided in her own mind to use the rest of the wool for +a pair of slippers for herself. But as Sarah said this, a thought came +into her mind, and she acted on it immediately. + +"You may have this wool if you want it, Sarah; then the present will be +partly yours and partly mine." + +"Oh, thank you," said Sarah. "But suppose you make one and I the other?" + +"Well, just as you like," answered Fanny. And this was almost the first +time in her life that she had ever sacrificed her own pleasure or +convenience to another person. + +"Fanny," said Sarah as she laid down her work to rest her hands—"Fanny, +have you made it right with Grandma Lilly yet?" + +"No," returned Fanny, sighing. "I don't see that things are any nearer +to coming round than ever." + +"Things don't 'come' round, Fanny. You have got to cut them round or +roll them round, or something." + +"Maybe so. But, you see, the trouble is, I don't know how to begin. +Grandma don't believe a word I say, and no wonder," said Fanny, +sighing. "I have been such a liar all my life. I don't know how to +believe myself when I say I am sorry. I hate myself, and I wish I was +somebody else. However, I believe I will tell her. Things can't be much +worse than they are." + +"Do," said Sarah. "Tell her to-night when you are going to the +schoolhouse:" for it was Thursday night, and some sort of religious +service was always held in the schoolhouse on that evening. + + +Fanny was as good as her word. That night, coming home from the +Corners, she confessed everything without reserve, telling her +grandmother of many acts of disobedience which she had never suspected. + +"I don't know whether you will believe me or not, grandma," she +concluded, "but indeed I am telling the truth now." + +"I believe you, Fanny," said Mrs. Lilly. + +"I shouldn't blame you if you didn't," continued Fanny, "I have told +so many lies. Grandma," she added, in a low, frightened voice, "I told +lies to God when I said my prayers. I said I was sorry when I wasn't, +and when I meant all the time to do the very same things again. Do you +think he will ever forgive me?" + +"Certainly, my child. He will not only forgive you, but will help you +to do better another time. Now, Fanny, can you tell me what has been +the root of all your troubles?—What has made you disobey me so many +times?" + +"I wanted my own way," said Fanny, after a little consideration. + +"Exactly; and when you had done so very wrong that Sunday, and Sarah +wanted to come and confess, as I know she did, why did you hinder +her? Why did you take so much pains to prevent her from going to the +meetings and from coming to talk to me, as she intended doing?" + +"I thought you would find out all about me and punish me. I wanted you +to think I was a good girl when I wasn't." + +"Then, my dear, it has been your love of self which has been at the +bottom of all the mischief. Don't you see that it is so?" + +"I know it," said Fanny, promptly. "It has always been just so. I never +could bear to give up to anybody or do anything for anybody unless +it was something that I liked myself, and yet I thought people ought +always to give up to me. And everybody did give up to me at home, +till Arthur came. Mamma used to say it made children deceitful to be +contradicted." + +"Do you think that excuses you now, Fanny?" asked Mrs. Lilly, thinking, +however, that the tree had borne such fruit as might have been expected. + +"No, grandma, but you don't know how hard it is for me to give up the +least little thing that I want. It seems as if I couldn't. That day on +the mountain, Sarah didn't want to leave Annie alone. After we started +to go away, she wanted to come back, and I wouldn't let her, because I +wanted to know what she had to say. And, after all, I would not lend +her the money." + +"There was nothing wrong in that," observed Mrs. Lilly. "It would not +have been proper for you to lend such a large sum without asking me. +Sarah herself sees that now." + +Fanny shook her head. "That was not the reason," said she. "I was ready +enough to spend the money in other ways—to buy candy and 'dime novels,' +such as I knew you wouldn't want me to have. And then I told so many +lies about Annie. She might have been found directly and Sarah might +have been well this minute. Do you think Sarah will ever be well again?" + +"I don't know, my dear. Her state is very discouraging. I do not see +that she gains the use of her feet in the least. But, Fanny, how is it +to be with you hereafter? Do you mean to go on in the same way, living +for self and nothing else?" + +"Not if I can help it, grandma. I have tried not to be selfish lately, +and I have asked God to help me, too, but it is hard work." + +"Yes, I dare say—much harder than if you had been trained to give up +for others when you were young." + +"I don't want you to blame mamma, grandma," said Fanny, flushing a +little. "It wasn't her fault at all. I am sure she meant to do just +right." + +"We won't blame anybody, dear," said Mrs. Lilly, not displeased by this +little outbreak. "We will only try to do better in future. I will give +you a verse, Fanny, which I think may help you: 'Whosoever will come +after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.' +Do you know who said that?" + +"The Lord Jesus." + +"Yes, and he says again: 'Whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come +after me, cannot be my disciple.' You must try as much as you can to +deny 'yourself'—to put yourself out of the question and live for other +people. You must think about yourself as little as possible, and never +lose a chance of putting yourself aside when you can do good or even +give pleasure by it." + +"It doesn't seem as though it was in me to do that," said Fanny, +shaking her head. "Grandma, I should just like to be made new, to be +made over altogether." + +"Well, dear, that is just what your heavenly Father is ready to do for +you—to 'create a clean heart and renew a right spirit' within you, +as the Psalm says. If you ask him, he will so change your heart and +disposition that you will love to do his will. You will love him, and +because you love him, you will want to be like him and to make your +whole life one sacrifice to him. I do not say that you will not do +wrong a great many times, but whenever you do, you will be sorry and +not rest till God has forgiven you. If you persevere in this course, +you will grow more and more like him every day. Your life will be a +blessing to all around you and the beginning of eternal happiness to +yourself." + + +All the rest of the summer Sarah sat helpless in her arm-chair, unable +to stand for a moment. One bright day in September, Mrs. Cassell came +up to see Mrs. Lilly and consult her about a plan for the sick girl's +benefit. Mrs. Cassell had a friend at the head of a great institution +where some wonderful cures had been performed on rheumatic patients. +Doctor Henry was to be at Mrs. Cassell's house on a certain day, and +Mrs. Cassell proposed to bring him up to examine Sarah and see if +anything could be done for her. Mrs. Lilly consented, but thought Sarah +had better not know anything about the matter, and to this Mrs. Cassell +agreed. Mrs. Lilly herself was not at all hopeful about Sarah, and she +did not think it best to excite the child's own hopes of recovery. + +Doctor Henry came at the appointed day, and examined Sarah very +carefully before pronouncing an opinion. He thought she might be cured, +but she would need a long course of treatment and great care. + +"I should like to take her home with me and see what can be done," said +the doctor. "Has she any friends?" + +"Plenty," said Mrs. Lilly. "If you will undertake the case, I will pay +her expenses. My children do not need my help, and I have more money +than I know what to do with." + +"With your permission, Mrs. Lilly, that is our part of the business," +said Mrs. Cassell, smiling. "My son-in-law has written to me to spare +no expense." + +"Well, we won't quarrel about it," said Mrs. Lilly. "When would you +like to have her go, doctor?" + +"I shall be here again in two weeks, and will take her home with me," +answered the doctor. + +And so it was settled. Sarah was to return with the doctor, and Oney +was to go with her and see her settled. Sarah did not know whether to +be pleased or sorry. She had been happier since her illness than ever +before in her life, and she dreaded to leave Mrs. Lilly and Fanny, whom +she loved more than ever. But then she was very anxious to get well and +be able to earn her own living as well as to do something for Ally, now +happily domesticated with Aunt Caroline. + +"I can't make up my mind whether I like it or not," she said, in answer +to Oney's question. "I am glad it has been all settled for me; for if I +had to choose, I should not know what to say." + +"Well, it is all settled, you see, so you needn't say anything at all," +remarked Oney. "Fanny, if you sew so steadily all day, you will have a +headache again. Run out to the barn and hunt up some fresh eggs, that +is a good girl." + +"How she has worked making my things!" remarked Sarah, after Fanny +had left the room. "She used to say that she hated sewing. It seems a +shame that every one should be working so hard for me, and I can't do +anything." + +"It has been a very good thing for Fanny, though," said Oney, "and has +given me more hopes of her than anything else. I believe she will turn +out a good girl yet, and that is more than I would have said of her six +months ago—or of you, either, for that matter," added Oney to herself. + + +Sarah went away to "The Cure," and, contrary to her expectation, she +found herself very happy there. Every one was kind to her, and after +she once began to amend, her health improved rapidly. + +A lady who was staying in the house undertook to teach her in the +things she so much wanted to know. And very happy was Sarah when she +succeeded in writing a letter to Fanny without one misspelled word. + +But Sarah found something else beside her health at the Spring. She +found her business and place in life. As she grew better and able to +go about the house, she showed a remarkable aptitude for nursing and +waiting on the sick. Doctor Henry, who saw most things that went on +around him, one day called Sarah into his office. + +"You are almost well now," said he, after he had asked her several +questions about her health. "What are you going to do with yourself?" + +"I must go to work at something," answered Sarah. "There is no use in +my living on Grandma Lilly any more. I don't know enough to teach, so I +suppose I must go out to work." + +"The world is running over with teachers," remarked the doctor, "and +there are plenty of other things to be done." + +And then he proceeded to open his plan, which was that Sarah should be +regularly educated for a nurse. "You seem to have a natural talent for +that sort of thing, and it is a pity it should be wasted. I have been +surprised to see how handily you adapt yourself to the work. Have you +ever had any experience?" + +"Only what I have gained in waiting on Ally," said Sarah. + +"However you learned it, you certainly have it," said the doctor. +"A skilful nurse is sure to have plenty of practice, and that of a +profitable kind, and there is no place in which a good woman can make +herself more useful. To be sure, it is hard work." + +"Everything worth doing is hard work sometimes," remarked Sarah, "but I +think doing nothing is the hardest work of all." + +"Very true," said Doctor Henry. "Well, take time to think and pray +over it, and write to your friends. If you decide to undertake the +profession, I will find a place in the house for you, and will see that +you have all needful instruction." + +Sarah did think and pray over the matter, and finally concluded to +accept the doctor's offer. + +"Well, I must say I did wonder at your choice of a profession when I +heard of it," said Fanny, on one of their meetings at the red house, +which Sarah still called home, and whither she always came to spend her +vacations. "I think I should rather do almost anything else. And you +know, Sarah, grandma and Mrs. Cassell both offered to educate you for +a teacher. How did it happen that you decided to take up nursing for a +business?" + +"I can't pretend to tell you all about it," replied Sarah, "only when I +began to go about, I wanted something to do, and I began to wait on a +sick lady whose room was next mine. So one thing led to another, and I +seemed just to have found my place. I did not so much choose it as it +chose me. Besides, I like to be a person of consequence," she added, +smiling. "Teachers go begging nowadays, but people come begging for +nurses. There are twice too many of the one and not half enough of the +other." + +"So it seems. I wonder how many letters you have had since you came +here? Grandma says you work a great deal too hard." + +"I don't mean to work so hard another year," said Sarah. "I am going to +rest and study and have a nice time with Ally, and in order to do that, +I must lay up some money. And now, Fanny, what do you mean to be?" + +"To be Fanny, I guess," returned Fanny, smiling. "I shall never be +anything great or grand in the world. I shall just go on filling up +the chinks and rounding the corners, threading needles for other folks +to sew with, and carrying bricks for other people's houses. I used to +think that I should like to go into a convent or a sisterhood, but I +can tell you I find there are plenty of ways to be useful in every-day +life, and that one can be just as self-denying and work just as hard in +a gypsy hat as in a cambric cap or a black serge veil." + +"Annie has found her vocation, too, with all those little brothers and +sisters of hers," said Sarah. "You don't know what a grave, motherly +little thing she is, though her face isn't a day older than when she +was lost on the mountain." + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76760 *** diff --git a/76760-h/76760-h.htm b/76760-h/76760-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f9a7b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/76760-h/76760-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5544 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + On the Mountain; or, Lost and Found, by Lucy Ellen Guernsey │ Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/image001.jpg" type="image/cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size:12.0pt; + font-family:"Verdana"; +} + +p {text-indent: 2em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +.w100 { + width: auto + } + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 125%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t2 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3b { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center + } + +p.t4 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center + } + +p.poem { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + padding: 20px 0; + text-align: left; + width: 555px; + } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 90%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76760 ***</div> + +<p>Transcriber's notes: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.</p> + +<p>New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the +public domain.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image001" style="max-width: 33.8125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image001.jpg" alt="image001"> +</figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image002" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image002.jpg" alt="image002"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b><em>On the Mountain.—Frontispiece.</em></b><br> +<br> +<b>"I am going to have more than that,</b><br> +<b>now I am about it," said Sarah.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h1>ON THE MOUNTAIN;</h1> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>OR,</b><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p class="t1"> +<b>LOST AND FOUND.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t1"> +LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +AUTHOR OF "IRISH AMY," "OPPOSITE NEIGHBOURS," "COMFORT ALLISON,"<br> +"THE TATTLER," "NELLY; OR, THE BEST INHERITANCE,"<br> +"TWIN ROSES," "ETHEL'S TRIAL," "THE FAIRCHILDS,"<br> +"THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL EXHIBITION," "THE RED PLANT,"<br> +"PERCY'S HOLIDAYS," ETC.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +——————————<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +PHILADELPHIA:<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +NO. 1122 CHESTNUT STREET.<br> +<br> +——————————<br> +<br> +NEW YORK: NO. 8 AND 10 BIBLE HOUSE, ASTOR PLACE.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————<br> +<br> +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by the<br> +<br> +AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION,<br> +<br> +In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.<br> +<br> +————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +              —————————————————      +                   ————————————————<br> +             WESCOTT & THOMSON    +                             +       HENRY B. ASHMEAD<br> +Stereotypers and Electrotypers, Philada.                +              Printer, Philada.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS.<br> +<br> +——————<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_1">CHAPTER I.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +FANNY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_2">CHAPTER II.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +SARAH<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_3">CHAPTER III.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +CONSEQUENCES<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +THE STUMBLING BLOCK<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_5">CHAPTER V.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +DANGER<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +AT MEETING<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +THE OFFENCE GIVEN<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +SARAH'S PLANS<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +THE LOST CHILD<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_10">CHAPTER X.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +ON THE MOUNTAIN<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +THE SEARCH<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +REPENTANCE<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t2"> +<b>ON THE MOUNTAIN.<br> +<br> +——————</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_1">CHAPTER I.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>FANNY.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"GRANDMA, who was that old lady you were talking with, in the porch +after church?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," replied Mrs. Lilly, rather absently, for she was +thinking of the sermon she had heard, and had to come a long way back, +as it were, to answer Fanny's question. "It was old Mrs. Merrill, I +suppose. Oney, we must send her down something this week—some flour and +butter and a good piece of pork or a chicken."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean 'her'," said Fanny, in a tone of great contempt. "As if +I cared for that old beggar woman with her poke bonnet as old as the +hills!"</p> + +<p>"If you don't care for her, you might," said Mrs. Lilly, in a tone of +some displeasure. "Mrs. Merrill never begged in her life, and she is +a good Christian woman, though she is old and poor. I desire that you +will never let me hear you speak in that way of any old person again."</p> + +<p>Fanny flounced in her seat and stuck out her lips, but she was too +desirous of having her questions answered to sulk as she sometimes did.</p> + +<p>"But I don't mean Mrs. Merrill, grandmother: I know her very well. I +mean that old lady with white hair put up in rolls at the sides and a +large thin black shawl."</p> + +<p>"Oh! That was Mrs. Cassell."</p> + +<p>"What! Mrs. Cassell, who lives up in the great house on the hill? Well, +I never should have guessed that."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, because she was dressed so plainly and she seemed so familiar with +everybody. I thought Mrs. Cassell was very rich and aristocratic and +all that."</p> + +<p>"She 'is' very rich—richer than anybody about here, but I don't know +about the aristocracy. She is a very good, kind, charitable woman, and +everybody likes and respects her."</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose the lady and gentleman with her were Mr. and Mrs. Hugh +Brandon?" continued Fanny, paying little attention to her grandmother's +remarks. "I don't think he looks so very different from other people, +if he has written books."</p> + +<p>"How did you expect him to look?" asked Oney, laughing. "Did you expect +to see him with wings?"</p> + +<p>"They say he is very dissipated," continued Fanny. "They say he drank +and gambled so and treated his wife so badly that his mother sent for +her home. But she would not come without her husband, so the old lady +had to take them both, and now he doesn't do anything but lie about and +smoke and chew opium all day long."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense!" said Mrs. Lilly, in a tone of great displeasure. +"Mr. Brandon is, and always has been, a very studious, industrious, +religious young man. I have known him all his life. Who has been +telling you such a heap of slanders?"</p> + +<p>"I guess I know," said Oney, as Fanny did not answer. "That sounds a +good deal like one of Mrs. Leyman's stories. I guess Sarah told you."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't care if she did. Mrs. Leyman heard it from Miss Clark, +who does Mrs. Brandon's washing sometimes, and Mrs. Cassell's too; so I +guess she knows all about them."</p> + +<p>"A good reason for telling stories about them, because she works +for them!" said Oney. "Miss Clark had better look at home. Her own +character is none too good, for that matter."</p> + +<p>"Let me never hear another such word from you, Fanny," said Mrs. Lilly. +"I have forbidden you playing with Sarah Leyman before now, and I tell +you again not to have anything to do with her. If I find you disobeying +me again, I shall punish you."</p> + +<p>Fanny looked very angry, but she had learned by this time that her +grandmother was not a person to be trifled with, so she relapsed into a +sulky silence, and did not open her lips again till they reached home. +Then she went up stairs and shut herself into her own room. And when +she was called to dinner, she answered that she did not want any. If +Fanny had been at home, her mother would have been very much distressed +by her refusal to eat. She would have come up stairs and tried to coax +her by promising all sorts of good things. And when Fanny had made +fuss enough, she would have given up and eaten her dinner with a good +appetite. No such thing happened on this occasion.</p> + +<p>"You had better come down and get your dinner, I guess," said Oney. +"You will be hungry before tea-time."</p> + +<p>"I won't," returned Fanny, without turning round from the window. "I +wish you would go away and shut the door."</p> + +<p>Oney did as she was desired. And no sooner had she gone down stairs +than Fanny stole to the head of them to listen.</p> + +<p>"She says she doesn't want any dinner," she heard Oney say.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well, we will have ours," answered Mrs. Lilly. "You made a +chicken pie, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and some raspberry pies and gingerbread. Hadn't I better carry +Fanny something?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied her grandmother, decidedly; "let her come down if she +wants her dinner. However, I will give her another call." And she +opened the door so quickly that Fanny had no time to get away.</p> + +<p>"You had better come down to your dinner, Fanny," said she. "You know +we shall have tea quite late on account of going to the five-o'clock +meeting."</p> + +<p>"I don't want any dinner," said Fanny, sulkily.</p> + +<p>"Are you sick?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I don't want any dinner," replied Fanny, thinking that her +grandmother was going to give way and coax her, as her mother would +have done.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Mrs. Lilly. And she shut the door without another +word.</p> + +<p>Fanny could hear the rattle of the knives and forks, and the +conversation between her grandmother and Oney about the sermon and +the Sunday-schools. It was clear that they were not going to send her +anything, and that nobody would suffer from her perversity but herself. +But still she could not make up her mind to sacrifice her pride and +come down stairs. She was very hungry, and very fond both of chicken +and raspberry pie, but nobody came to bring her any.</p> + +<p>She thought she would try another line of conduct, and she burst out +crying and cried as loud as she could. She cried till she was tired, +but nobody came near her. For the truth was Mrs. Lilly had grown weary +of Fanny's airs, and had made up her mind that the girl must, as she +said, be broken in.</p> + +<p>Finding that crying did no more good than sulking, Fanny presently +stopped. For as she had cried only to get her own way, she could stop +whenever she pleased. She went to the head of the stairs and listened. +She could hear Oney wiping up the dishes and singing—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"Awake, my soul, to joyful lays!"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>And she could hear the gentle "creak, creak," of her grandmother's +rocking-chair, in which the old lady was apt to take a nap after +dinner. Everything else was quiet about the house, and out of doors +too, for that matter, except the chirping of the birds, the soft +sighing of the wind, saying "hush, hush," in the two great pine trees +behind the house, and now and then a low or bleat from the pastures. +She looked out of the window.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, how lonesome it is here!" she said to herself. "If I ever get +back to the city again, I shall know when I am well off. There! It is +only two o'clock," as the distant sound of the church clock came from +the village. "Only two o'clock, and we shall not have tea till seven, +I know. We never do on Sunday nights, because grandma and Oney always +go to that stupid meeting at the schoolhouse. Oh dear, how hungry I am! +I shall starve if I don't have something before tea-time. I mean to go +down and ask grandma for something to eat. No, I believe I will ask +Oney first."</p> + +<p>Fanny went down to the kitchen, where she found everything in order and +Oney sitting by the shady window reading her Bible. Oney hardly ever +read any book but her Bible on Sunday, because she said she did not +have time to read all she wanted of it any other day.</p> + +<p>"Oney, I want something to eat," said Fanny, decidedly. "Get me some +raspberry pie and gingerbread and a drink of milk directly."</p> + +<p>"That isn't the way to ask for it," said Oney, quietly. "Besides, if +you want anything to eat, you must ask your grandma."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" answered Fanny, loftily. "Get me something to eat this +minute, Oney, or you will be sorry."</p> + +<p>"Maybe so," said Oney. But she did not stir.</p> + +<p>Seeing that commanding did no good, Fanny tried coaxing.</p> + +<p>"Come, Oney, do give me something to eat, and I will give you a real +nice present."</p> + +<p>"You must ask your grandma, Fanny," was Oney's only reply.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" asked Mrs. Lilly, coming into the kitchen. "What +are you crying for now, Fanny?" For Fanny was crying again louder than +ever.</p> + +<p>"I want my dinner!" said Fanny, passionately. "I didn't come here to be +starved, and I won't stand it. Give me my dinner, I say!"</p> + +<p>"You will not get it in that way," said Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>Fanny screamed louder than ever.</p> + +<p>"Fanny, stop this minute!" said Mrs. Lilly, taking hold of Fanny's arm +in a way quite new to her. "Are you not ashamed of yourself?—A great +girl, fourteen years old! Do you think I am going to have my Sunday +broken up and the whole house disturbed for you? Stop this minute!"</p> + +<p>Fanny obeyed, for she was frightened.</p> + +<p>"Now, say 'Please, Oney, get me something to eat.'"</p> + +<p>"Please get me something to eat," repeated Fanny, meekly.</p> + +<p>"Get her a bowl of bread and milk, Oney," said Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>"I don't want bread and milk; I want some pie," sobbed Fanny.</p> + +<p>"You cannot have any pie, and if you say any more, you will not have +any bread and milk," said her grandmother. "When you have eaten it, +go back to your room, and let me hear no more noise. You have made +yourself ridiculous enough for one day."</p> + +<p>Fanny ate her bread and milk and went back to her room, feeling very +crest-fallen indeed. Never in all her short life had she suffered such +a "taking down." She had been for twelve years the only child at home. +Her father was away at his business from morning till night, and her +mother never restrained Fanny in the least.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly, the younger, had some new-fashioned theories on the +bringing up of children. She thought they should never be punished, +for fear of making them slaves, nor restrained from saying all they +pleased, lest they should become sly, nor checked in eating, drinking, +or play, for fear they should think too much of these things, nor +taught anything they did not wish to learn, lest their brains should be +overtaxed, or they should take a dislike to learning. She had practiced +all these theories on Fanny, and had not found much trouble so long as +the child stayed in the nursery.</p> + +<p>But when Fanny was twelve years old, she had a little brother born, and +by and by a little sister, so that she found herself a person of much +less consequence than she had ever been before. The faults which had +seemed to her mother of little or no consequence when she was alone +were now found very inconvenient and disagreeable. It was not at all +pleasant to have Fanny saying before company whatever came into her +head, and interrupting and contradicting her elders without scruple, or +screaming and throwing herself down on the ground in the public street +so that the policeman came to see what the matter was, or running away +from school to play about the street and spend in sweet things the +money she had taken from her mother's purse. In short, Fanny was found +to be a very naughty, troublesome little girl. And when her mother's +health failed and it was decided that she must travel in Europe, the +nurse told the doctor that there would be no use in Mrs. Lilly's going +abroad unless Fanny stayed at home.</p> + +<p>"She will keep her mother in a constant worry about her from morning +till night, and she will be in mischief from the time she goes away +till the time she comes home again. I would not have the charge of her +on shipboard for a thousand dollars, and if she is going, I am not. She +is more trouble than the babies ten times over."</p> + +<p>"I believe you are right," said the doctor, who knew Fanny well. "But +what can be done with the child?"</p> + +<p>"If her grandmother could take her, it would be the very best thing +that would happen to Fanny," said the nurse. "Mrs. Lilly is an +excellent, sensible woman. She would be kind to Fanny, and bring her +into order if anybody can. I don't blame the child so much as I do some +other folks, but she is just as hard to manage as if it were all her +own fault."</p> + +<p>"I will talk to Mr. Lilly about the matter," said the doctor. "I think +you are right, nurse. It will never do for Fanny to go with her mother. +And if the old lady is willing, she is just the person to take charge +of the child."</p> + +<p>There was a terrible scene with Fanny when she found that she was to go +to her grandmother's in the country instead of going abroad with her +father and mother. But her father was firm, and for once her mother did +not interfere. There was no help for it. Go she must, and she comforted +herself by thinking that at least she should do as she pleased at her +grandmother's, and be a very great lady indeed.</p> + +<p>But here, too, she found herself disappointed. Mrs. Lilly was very kind +to Fanny and very forbearing with her, remembering how much she had +been indulged at home. But she very soon saw that it would be necessary +to assert her own authority and make Fanny submit. She was sorry that +the contest should come on a Sunday, but there seemed no help for it. +And she hoped that Fanny would herself see the folly as well as the +naughtiness of her conduct, and try to do better.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly was quite an old lady. She lived by herself in the old red +farm-house which stood in the very middle of her large farm, with no +company but Oney, the Indian woman whom she had brought up from a +baby, and a little boy whom she had taken from the poorhouse. The man +who helped manage her farm and took a part of it on shares lived in a +little house down on the roadside just by the gate of the lane that +led to the farm-house. Mrs. Lilly's house was a long, low, red wooden +building, and from the door one could see for a long distance, for the +farm lay high up on the side of the mountain. The house was very plain +and not specially convenient, but it was cool in summer and warm in +winter. It had abundance of closets and store-rooms, and from all the +windows up stairs and down there was something pleasant to be seen.</p> + +<p>When the slate quarry was discovered and leased for so much money, many +people thought that Mrs. Lilly would build a new house or come down and +live in the village, but the old lady did neither. When her friends +asked her about it, she said the old house would last her time; that +she had come thither as a bride more than fifty years before and had +lived there ever since, and that no other place would seem like home to +her. When people talked to her son, he said he should like very much to +have his mother live with him (which was quite true), but the old lady +had her own fancies, and he thought it best to let her have her own +way, which was a very good thing, as she would undoubtedly have had it +at any rate. Both Mr. and Mrs. Lilly were very loving and dutiful to +their mother, and wrote to her every week. Her son sent her plenty of +books and papers, and fine tea and coffee such as he knew she liked, +and her daughter made her pretty caps and shawls, and sent her rare +green-house plants, and everybody was contented all round.</p> + +<p>But Fanny was not satisfied at all in her new home. In the first place, +she was really lonely. She missed her school and the bustle of the +streets, and she was rather afraid of the solitude and of the great +dark mountain which rose so close and steep behind the house. Then, +so far from being considered a young lady, she was treated only as a +little girl, and made to behave better than she had ever done in her +life.</p> + +<p>Then, too, her grandmother was surprised and distressed at the child's +ignorance. For Fanny, though she had been to a very expensive and +fashionable school, was not as far advanced at fourteen as she ought +to have been at nine. She could not say the multiplication table, and +knew next to nothing of English grammar, though she had begun French +and Latin. And when her grandmother told her that the world was round, +and showed her by means of a ball of yarn and a knitting needle how it +turned on its axis, Fanny was perfectly astonished and could hardly +believe it.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you learn that in school, Fanny?" asked Oney.</p> + +<p>"There was something about it in the geography book," said Fanny, "but +I never understood it. I thought the world was shaped just like the +map."</p> + +<p>Still, Fanny was not unhappy. She liked the fresh air and the green +fields, she was very kindly treated, and she found even a certain +pleasure in being governed. She might have had a very nice time, if she +would have been a good girl and minded her grandmother. But this was +just what she could not make up her mind to do.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_2">CHAPTER II.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>SARAH.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>FANNY went back to her room feeling very much vexed and a good deal +ashamed. She did not at all like to be conquered, and she had certainly +had very much the worst of it in her contest with her grandmother. She +had not only failed in getting her own way, but she had made herself +ridiculous. Then, too, she had lost a very good dinner, a circumstance +to which she was by no means indifferent.</p> + +<p>"How I wish I had just gone down at first!" she thought. "But then who +would have supposed she would take one up so? Oh dear, I wish I had +never come here. It is all the fault of that hateful old nurse and +doctor. I know mamma would have taken me only for them, and I should +be having a nice time in London this very day, instead of being poked +up in this lonesome place with nobody to play with but Sarah Leyman. +And now grandma says I must not go with her. But I don't care, I 'will' +play with her. Mamma always let me play with anybody I pleased, and I +guess she knows. I am not going to be made a slave of just because my +mother is sick—so there!"</p> + +<p>"Fanny," called Mrs. Lilly from the foot of the stairs, "do you want to +go to the meeting to-night?"</p> + +<p>Now Fanny liked very well to go to the meetings in the schoolhouse, +though she had called them stupid. The walk was a very pleasant one +through the woods and along the banks of the beautiful little river. +They were sure to see squirrels and chipmucks and perhaps a wild +rabbit, and the lambs in the pastures were so full of their pretty +plays that Fanny was never tired watching them. Then the old ladies +who came to the meeting took a great deal of notice of her, so that +though she did not care for the services, she rather liked to go to the +Sunday and Thursday meetings. But to-night she was just in the humour +to "quarrel with her bread and butter," as Oney said. So when her +grandmother asked her, she answered shortly that she did not want to go.</p> + +<p>"You will be left alone in the house," said her grandmother.</p> + +<p>"I would just as soon be alone as not," returned Fanny.</p> + +<p>"To be sure, there is nothing to hurt you," said her grandmother, "but +I thought you might be afraid. However, you can do just as you please."</p> + +<p>"I mean to do as I please, thank you," said Fanny, under her breath.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly, seeing that Fanny was still out of humour, said no more, +but shut the door, and presently went out with Oney. Fanny watched them +across the fields. And when they were quite out of sight, she went down +stairs into the pantry.</p> + +<p>"I don't care; I mean to have some of that raspberry pie, anyhow," said +she.</p> + +<p>But in vain did she search; she could find neither pie nor cake.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly was not in the habit of locking up such things, but she had +reason to think that Fanny helped herself slyly to a good deal more +than was good for her, and she had taken the precaution before she went +out to lock the door of the milkroom.</p> + +<p>Fanny stamped her foot with vexation.</p> + +<p>"Just like her, the stingy old thing! I don't care; I will have some in +spite of her."</p> + +<p>"Some of what?" asked a voice behind her.</p> + +<p>Fanny started violently, and turned round in a hurry to see Sarah +Leyman standing in the kitchen door.</p> + +<p>"How you frightened me!" exclaimed Fanny, in an angry tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you jumped as if you had been shot," returned Sarah, laughing. +"I saw your folks going to meeting, and I knew you would be alone. But +what is the matter? What have you been crying about?"</p> + +<p>Fanny poured out the story of her wrongs with many exaggerations.</p> + +<p>"What a shame!" said Sarah. "Folks think Mrs. Lilly is such a good +woman, too!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose she is," said Fanny, "but I think she is too bad to +treat me so. I know there are plenty of nice things in the milkroom, +but the door is locked and I can't find the key anywhere."</p> + +<p>"Isn't there any other key that will fit the door?" asked Sarah.</p> + +<p>Fanny brought all the keys of the house, but none of them fitted.</p> + +<p>"Can't we climb in at the window?" asked Sarah. "'I' can, I know."</p> + +<p>"You can't, bemuse there are bars across it."</p> + +<p>"Bother!" Sarah stood considering for a minute, and then, as if struck +with a sudden thought, she ran out at the kitchen door.</p> + +<p>Fanny followed her, and found her standing at the side of the milkroom. +This room was a "lean-to" built on the north side of the house, and two +or three of the clapboards were so arranged as to turn edgewise like +window-blinds to let the cool air in on the milk. Sarah was peeping +through these boards.</p> + +<p>"Just look there!" said she as Fanny came up.</p> + +<p>Fanny peeped in, in her turn, and saw a whole raspberry pie standing on +the broad shelf.</p> + +<p>While she was looking, Sarah slipped off the jacket she wore, and +thrusting her bare arm through the slats, she pulled out the pie and +held it up in triumph.</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare!" said Fanny, half pleased and half scared.</p> + +<p>"I am going to have more than that, now I am about it," said Sarah.</p> + +<p>And again putting her hand through the slats, she pulled out a large +cake of gingerbread. As she drew back her hand, however, she hit the +gingerbread against the edge of the slat and broke off a bit, which +fell into the milk.</p> + +<p>"That was smart!" exclaimed Fanny. "What will you do now?"</p> + +<p>"Let it alone, to be sure," replied Sarah. "But grandma will find it +when she skims the milk."</p> + +<p>"Well, let her. She won't know how it came there, will she? Here, hold +the things while I put on my jacket."</p> + +<p>Fanny did not quite relish Sarah's tone of command, but she did not +know how to object, and she did as she was told.</p> + +<p>"Come now!" said Sarah, when she had put on her jacket and closed up +the slats again. "Let's go up to the spring and have a good time."</p> + +<p>"But suppose grandma comes and catches us before we get through; what +shall we do then?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"She won't come home this hour and more, goosey. Meeting is not out +till six, and it is only five now. Besides, she always stops to talk to +every one. Come along!"</p> + +<p>"I wish you would not call me names, Sarah Leyman," said Fanny, +angrily. "I am not used to it."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, child! Who minds being called a goose? Come along, and don't +waste all the time."</p> + +<p>"I won't go up to the spring; it is too far," said Fanny. "You can go +if you like, and I will eat my piece here."</p> + +<p>"'Your' piece!" returned Sarah, in a taunting tone. "Your piece, +indeed! I should like to know how it comes to be yours. Do you think I +am going to steal pies and cakes for 'you'?"</p> + +<p>"Sarah Leyman, if you don't give me a piece of pie this minute, I will +tell grandma the instant she comes home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you will? And tell her too how you told me where all the things +were, and how you got all the keys to try the door, and how you ran +away and went down to the village the other day, and then said you had +been playing down by the brook all the time. Oh," said Sarah, "you will +make a fine figure telling of me. Suppose I tell of you; what then?"</p> + +<p>Fanny burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, don't cry," said Sarah, changing her tone. "I was only in +fun—only you see, Fanny, I don't like to hear you talk of telling of +me as if I had been the only one to blame. Come, let us go up to the +spring and have a nice time, and I will tell you what I heard Miss +Clarke tell mother about the Brandons."</p> + +<p>Fanny did not feel at all satisfied, but she dried her tears and +followed Sarah through the garden and a small field beyond it, and then +a little way up the path which ascended the mountain, till they came to +the spring.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful place. Just at the foot of a high, steep ledge of +rocks was a little mossy dell shaded by great pine and spruce trees, +mixed with graceful white-stemmed birches. The ground was covered with +moss and ferns, and scattered over its surface lay several large rocks +covered with lovely green and brown mosses. The spring came running out +of the very heart of the mountain, as it seemed, about four feet from +the ground, in a stream as large as a man's wrist. And making a pretty +little cascade as it fell down the stones, it slipped away among the +roots of the great trees to join the river below. Almost all day long +this little glen was in shadow, but as the sun got low in the sky, it +shone in and lighted everything beautifully.</p> + +<p>The girls sat down on a stone side by side, and Sarah divided the pie +with a knife which she took out of her pocket.</p> + +<p>"Take care! Don't drop the juice on your dress," said she. "Here, wait +till I make you a dish."</p> + +<p>"How will you make a dish?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"You'll see," said Sarah.</p> + +<p>And going to the nearest birch tree, she cut round the bark and peeled +it off in a broad sheet. Then turning up the edges, she made of it a +very nice square dish and handed it to Fanny.</p> + +<p>"How pretty!" exclaimed Fanny. "But won't it hurt the tree to take the +bark off so?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; it won't hurt the tree so long as you don't cut down through +the soft wood," replied Sarah. "I have heard Aunt Sally say that when +the country was new the school children used to learn to write on birch +bark."</p> + +<p>"How funny! Won't any other bark do as well?"</p> + +<p>"No; other trees won't peel as the birch does."</p> + +<p>"How much you do know about such things!" remarked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Well, I ought to know. I don't know anything else." There was a +bitterness in Sarah's tone which made Fanny look up in surprise.</p> + +<p>"It does make me mad," continued Sarah, "to see how other girls can go +to school and have books at home, and all—such fools as some of them +are too—and I never have a chance. It is too bad!"</p> + +<p>"But you might go to school," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I look like it, don't I?" returned Sarah, scornfully. "My clothes +are so nice! I think I see myself going down to the Union school among +all the young ladies, and being put into the baby-room to spell along +with the little ones. I did use to go sometimes when we had the old +district school up at the Corners, but it is altogether another thing +now."</p> + +<p>Fanny did not know what to say to this, so she was silent, and went on +eating her pie.</p> + +<p>"I tell you what," said Sarah: "if I had your chance, Fanny Lilly, I +wouldn't be such a dunce as you are."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Fanny, surprised.</p> + +<p>"I mean just what I say. Here you have been to school all your life and +had good people to bring you up, and you have had, I dare say, hundreds +of dollars spent on your schooling already, and what do you amount to? +I don't see that you know much more than I do, and you are just as +ready to get into any sort of mischief as I am. I suppose your folks +are pious and believe in the Bible, and you have been to Sunday-school +all your life and learned the commandments, and everything, haven't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," replied Fanny; "I began to go to the infant school before +I can remember, and I could say all the catechism before I went into +the intermediate room. We have such splendid Sunday-school rooms at our +church in Boston—larger than the church is here, with a gallery all +round it for the Bible classes, and the walls all hung with pictures, +and with painted texts and with cushioned seats that turn like those in +the cars." And Fanny went on describing the beauties and glories of her +Sunday-school room, and, I am sorry to say, stretching the truth a good +deal in order to show Sarah how much superior was everything in Boston +to everything anywhere else.</p> + +<p>Sarah listened silently, but with evident interest. And when Fanny had +concluded, she said, simply,—</p> + +<p>"And after all that, you are not one bit better than I am."</p> + +<p>Fanny was very much "taken aback." She had not expected any such answer.</p> + +<p>"It just shows what all that stuff is worth," continued Sarah, breaking +the gingerbread in two and giving Fanny half. "After all that teaching +and preaching and reading the Bible and praying, here you are 'breaking +the Sabbath,' as old Mrs. Crane says, running away to eat stolen goods +on Sunday evening when your grandmother is at meeting. It just shows +that you don't believe one word of it, any more than pa does, for all +your talk. I wonder if anybody does?"</p> + +<p>"Does what?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Believe really in the Bible and all the minister preaches."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Fanny. "My father and mother do, and so do I."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you do! Then, what are you here for?"</p> + +<p>Fanny had no answer ready. She had never regarded the matter in that +way before.</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind," said Sarah. "Here we are, and the pie is eaten up, +and there is no help for it now. I wonder how they are getting on at +the schoolhouse? I think I can hear Deacon Crane starting the tune this +minute."</p> + +<p>And Sarah began to imitate first the deacon's way of singing, and then +stammering Mr. Wilson trying to make a prayer, and so on, till she had +Fanny in a fit of laughter, though something told her all the time that +Sarah was doing wrong, and that she was equally wrong to laugh at her.</p> + +<p>"It is getting late, Fanny," said Sarah, checking herself suddenly. +"Hadn't you better be going home? Your folks will be back from meeting +by this time. Look at the sun."</p> + +<p>Fanny looked, and was startled to see how low it was in the sky. "They +must have been home ever so long," said she. "What shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you needn't say 'we,'" returned Sarah, coolly. "It is nothing to +me. I've had my supper, and I mean to stay up here till the moon rises, +but I think you had better run along."</p> + +<p>"But grandma will see me," said Fanny. "She will have missed me by this +time, and what shall I say?"</p> + +<p>"Say you got tired of staying alone and went out for a walk, and that +you didn't know how late it was," returned Sarah, readily. "She won't +think anything of that. I have known her walk up here herself on a +Sunday evening."</p> + +<p>"But what shall we do with the plate?"</p> + +<p>"Hide it here," returned Sarah, putting the plate away in a kind of +little cavern under the rock on which they had been sitting. "There it +is safe enough, and we can have it to use again some time."</p> + +<p>"But what shall I say when they miss the pie?"</p> + +<p>"What you please," returned Sarah. "I guess you are as well able to +make up lies as I am to make them for you. Oh, you needn't look at me! +Didn't you tell me how you ran away from school at Boston, and all +the rest of it? Come, do run along! You won't make it any better by +waiting."</p> + +<p>There was no help for it, and Fanny went on her way, wishing a hundred +times that she had stayed quietly at home. As she entered the garden, +she met Oney coming to look for her.</p> + +<p>"Why, Fanny, where have you been?" asked Oney.</p> + +<p>"I got tired of staying at home and went out for a walk," replied +Fanny. "I didn't know it was so late. How long have you been at home?"</p> + +<p>"About half an hour. But come, supper is almost ready."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly was standing at the back door when they came in.</p> + +<p>Fanny repeated her story, adding, "I am sorry I stayed so long, +grandma. I never thought how late it was till I looked at the sun, and +then I hurried home as fast as I could. There was no harm in my going +far a walk, was there?"</p> + +<p>Fanny spoke in such a natural tone that Mrs. Lilly was quite deceived.</p> + +<p>"Why, no, perhaps not, though you should not have left the house all +open. And besides, you know I like to know where you are. There is no +harm done, but I would rather you would not do so again."</p> + +<p>"I won't," said Fanny, feeling a little self-reproach at the kind tone +in which her grandmother spoke. "And, grandma, I am sorry I was so +naughty this noon, but I will never do so again if you will forgive me +this time."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly was pleased that Fanny should thus confess her fault and ask +pardon of her own accord.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I forgive you, my dear," said she, kissing Fanny. "I thought +you would think better of it. Go, now, and get ready for supper."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear! I wish I hadn't done so!" said Fanny as she went up stairs. +"I wish I was good like grandma. I believe she is good, for all Sarah +says. Anyhow, it was all Sarah's fault. She made me do it."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_3">CHAPTER III.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>CONSEQUENCES.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>FANNY had only just come down stairs after washing her hands when Oney +came out of the milkroom with a very disturbed face.</p> + +<p>"Did you see anybody about before you went away, Fanny?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because somebody has been here, and some not very honest body, +either," answered Oney. "The pie I set on the milk-shelf is gone, plate +and all, and a card of gingerbread beside."</p> + +<p>"That is queer," said Mrs. Lilly; "nobody could get into the milkroom, +because I had the key in my pocket all the time. I think you must be +mistaken, Oney. How many pies did you bake?"</p> + +<p>"Only two; one we had for dinner and the other I set on the milk-shelf +before I went out."</p> + +<p>"But nobody could have taken it, Oney, because the door was locked and +no one could get in without the key," argued Mrs. Lilly. "Are you sure +you baked two pies?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Mrs. Lilly, don't you think I know?" asked Oney, who did not +quite like being called in question. "Didn't you say yourself that the +pie on the grate was rather overdone, and that I had better heat the +brick oven next time?"</p> + +<p>"Very true; so I did," replied Mrs. Lilly. "Let me take a look."</p> + +<p>She went into the milkroom, and Oney and Fanny followed her, Fanny +thinking it would look odd if she stayed behind.</p> + +<p>"The pie stood just here," said Oney, marking the place, "and the +gingerbread here. I meant to set them up in the cupboard, but I forgot +it. And it is so odd that nothing else is gone. The loaf of cake is not +touched nor any of the cheeses."</p> + +<p>"The pie and gingerbread were taken from the outside," said Mrs. Lilly, +who had been using her eyes while Oney was talking. "Don't you see the +crumbs here on the shelf, and the juice of the pie spilled on the edge +of the slat? Somebody has turned the slats and put his hand through, +and that accounts for nothing else being taken. See, here is a piece of +gingerbread in the milk."</p> + +<p>"How sorry I am I went away!" said Fanny, speaking quite naturally, +for, I regret to say, she was no novice in the art of telling lies.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, it is a pity, though I don't know exactly what good you +would have done," said Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>"Probably if the thief had seen anybody about, he would not have +touched the things," said Oney. "The wonder is that, seeing the doors +all open, he did not enter the house."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps that was the very thing that kept him out," remarked Fanny. +"He might think that nobody would leave the house in that way. But, +grandma, I am sure I shut the door, and I will tell you how I know: +because I came back and opened it again to let the cat go in to her +kittens."</p> + +<p>"I noticed the open door the minute we came in sight of the house," +said Oney. "Who could it have been? Do you suppose Willy could have +meddled with them?"</p> + +<p>"Dear me, no! I hope not," said Mrs. Lilly, looking startled. "Willy +has been such a good boy lately, I should be sorry to think of his +going back to his old tricks."</p> + +<p>"Besides, he has been away all day," remarked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"He was down at the barn when we came home, for I heard him singing," +said Oney. "Here he comes now. Willy, have you been here before to-day?"</p> + +<p>Oney tried to speak just as usual, but of course she did not quite +succeed.</p> + +<p>Willy was conscious of something peculiar in her manner, and blushed up +to the roots of his hair. "Yes, I came up to get the milk-pails, but +the door was locked," said he. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Some things have been taken from the milkroom—a pie and some +gingerbread," said Mrs. Lilly, adding, kindly, "but you need not look +so distressed. Nobody suspects you."</p> + +<p>But Oney was not quite satisfied. The truth was that she had begun with +a little prejudice against Willy because Mrs. Lilly had taken him from +the poorhouse, and besides that, on his first coming to live at the +farm, Willy had now and then been caught helping himself to sugar and +cake, and such matters.</p> + +<p>"How long have you been back from the village, Willy?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I should think about an hour," replied Willy.</p> + +<p>"And what have you been doing all that time?"</p> + +<p>"I drove up the cows, and then I came to get the pails, but the door +was locked. So I went down to the barn and did up my other chores."</p> + +<p>"Then you didn't come into the house at all, except to get the pails?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I went up to my room to change my clothes and put away my +books."</p> + +<p>"And you didn't see anybody about?"</p> + +<p>"No, of course not. I didn't go round any, only right up stairs and +down again," said Willy, colouring more deeply than before. "Yes, I +know what you think, Oney. You think I got the things, but you are +mistaken; I never touched them. Come now, Oney," he added, in a quieter +tone and smiling; "it isn't fair to put everything on me because my +father wasn't very respectable. You wouldn't like to have me accuse you +of killing Deacon Crane's sheep because your father and grandfather +used to take scalps, would you?"</p> + +<p>Oney laughed: "That's so, Willy; I don't believe you had anything to do +with the theft. But the question is, who had?"</p> + +<p>"Well, we won't talk about it any more, or let it spoil our Sunday," +said Mrs. Lilly. "Come, Oney, let us have our supper, for I am sure +we are all ready for it, especially the children. Wash your hands and +face, Willy, and we will sit down."</p> + +<p>When Fanny had first come to the farm, her dignity had been very much +hurt by thus sitting down with Oney and Willy at the same table. She +had spoken to her grandmother about it, but Mrs. Lilly only smiled, and +said it had always been her habit ever since she kept house, and she +thought Fanny would have to get used to it.</p> + +<p>"But I am not used to it," said Fanny, loftily, "and I don't think my +father would like it at all. He is one of the richest men in Boston, +and my mother belongs to one of the very first families."</p> + +<p>"Don't be a goose, child. Your father and Oney were brought up +together, and as for your mother, she knew all my ways before she sent +you here. And when she comes to visit me, she always conforms to them, +whereby she shows her real good breeding. What is good enough for her +is good enough for you."</p> + +<p>That was all the satisfaction Fanny could get from her grandmother. She +consoled herself with thinking that, after all, Oney was not a common +servant, and that none of her fine friends need know anything about the +matter.</p> + +<p>After tea was over, Mrs. Lilly sat down in the door to enjoy the +beautiful summer evening. Fanny sat on the step at her feet, and by and +by Willy came and joined them.</p> + +<p>"How do you like your new teacher, Willy?" asked Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ever so much," replied Willy, warmly. "Only think! He has been +to Jerusalem and to the Sea of Galilee—to the very places. He told us +to-day how he and a Scotch gentleman hired a boat and went out fishing +at night just like the apostles—to see how it would seem, you know. And +he described the places to us, and said he would show us some pictures +of them—I forget the name—the kind you look at through a glass, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Stereoscopic pictures," said Mrs. Lilly. "Mr. Brandon has been a great +traveller."</p> + +<p>"And he has seen the Dead Sea and Mount Sinai and Nazareth and +Bethlehem," continued Willy, with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it," said Fanny. "There are no such places now as +Nazareth and Bethlehem and those places in the Bible; are there, +grandma?"</p> + +<p>"Why!" exclaimed Willy. "Why, Fanny!"</p> + +<p>"To be sure there are, child," said Mrs. Lilly; "didn't you know that? +Jerusalem is still a city, though not like what it used to be, and so +are Nazareth and Bethlehem. Thousands of people go from all over the +world to visit them every year. I will find you a book of travels which +tells all about them. I must ask Mr. Brandon to show me his pictures. I +should like to see them very much."</p> + +<p>"It would make the story seem very real if one could see all the places +with one's own eyes," remarked Oney. "I am something like Fanny in +that. I find it rather hard to believe that there is such a place as +Jerusalem, where people are living and going about at this minute."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose they are going about much just now," remarked Willy; +"I suppose it is about the middle of the night there. That seems +strange, too, doesn't it, Fanny?"</p> + +<p>Fanny did not answer. She was very much ashamed to have exposed +her ignorance before Oney and Willy. For the ignorance itself she +did not care. As they sat in silence for a few minutes, looking +over the fields, they saw a small, active figure come down from the +mountain-side and cross the pasture.</p> + +<p>"There goes Sarah Leyman," said Willy. "What a queer thing she is, +anyhow! I dare say she has been roaming over the mountains all day +long."</p> + +<p>"Maybe it was Sarah that helped herself to the pie," remarked Oney.</p> + +<p>"Possibly, though I don't like to think so," replied Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>"She is none too good for it, or her father either," said Oney.</p> + +<p>"Poor thing! She has not had any great chance in her life," said Mrs. +Lilly, sighing.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know," remarked Oney. "To be sure, her father is a +downright wicked man and does not believe in anything, but her aunt +Sally, that she was named for, was an excellent woman. And think how +many people have tried to make Sarah go to Sunday-school!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but there is the example at home all the time, Oney. And then she +has always been used to such a roving, out-of-door life that I suppose +she would really find it hard to settle down. It is a pity, for she is +naturally very smart, and might be as good a woman as the one for whom +she was named."</p> + +<p>"But if you think she is so smart and might make such a good woman, why +is it you don't want me to play with her, grandma?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Because, my dear, I think she is a great deal more likely to do you +harm than you are to do her good. She is very wild and reckless, uses +bad language, and has many bad habits."</p> + +<p>"She will make fun of anything, even of the Bible," said Willy; "and +she doesn't care any more about Sunday than her father does. I heard +him going on the other day down at the store, and he said he would as +soon do a day's work on Sunday as on any other day."</p> + +<p>"That wasn't saying much," said Oney, dryly.</p> + +<p>"That's just what Squire Holden told him. 'Sam,' says he, 'you ain't +very fond of doing a day's work any time,' says he. Then Sam began to +swear and to talk against the Bible, till Squire Holden told him either +to shut up or quit the store."</p> + +<p>"It is no wonder that poor Sarah doesn't amount to much," said Mrs. +Lilly, sighing again. "How thankful children ought to be who have good +homes and kind friends to tell them what is right!"</p> + +<p>"I guess we 'are' thankful," said Willy. "Ain't we, Fanny?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Fanny, but she did not feel what she said. It had +never yet entered her head or her heart to be thankful for anything.</p> + +<p>"But some children do have good homes and kind friends to teach them, +and yet they don't turn out well," remarked Willy. "They lie and swear, +and do all sorts of bad things."</p> + +<p>"Such children are a great deal more to be blamed than poor Sarah," +said Mrs. Lilly. "You know, Willy, the Bible says that to whom much is +given, of him will much be required. But it is growing late, and we +must be up early in the morning, so we will have prayers and go to bed."</p> + +<p>Fanny was not sorry to hear this, for she felt very uncomfortable both +in mind and body. She was mortified at having made such a display of +her ignorance. She knew that she had been very wicked, and she was +afraid of betraying herself or being found out.</p> + +<p>Besides, she began to feel very sick. She had eaten half a raspberry +pie and a large piece of gingerbread up at the spring, and did not +want her supper in the least, but the bread and honey and cold ham and +sponge-cake and coffee were all so good, and she was so afraid that +her grandmother would suspect something wrong if she did not eat as +usual, that she made a hearty meal. The consequence was that she felt +very sick and her head ached violently. She hastened to bed, hoping to +forget her troubles in sleep, but she passed a restless night, and in +the morning was too ill to get up.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>THE STUMBLING BLOCK.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>FOR two or three days Fanny was pretty sick, and did not sit up at all. +She was really frightened about herself, was sure she had some dreadful +disease, and was very angry at the old doctor from the village for +saying there was nothing serious the matter.</p> + +<p>"I guess you don't know how badly I feel," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"I guess I have seen other little girls who had made themselves sick +by eating too much of grandma's nice cakes and pies," said the doctor, +smiling. "A little medicine and a few days of toast and gruel will make +you all right again, and then you must be more careful. If you eat so +many sweet things, you will get the dyspepsia, and then I cannot cure +you."</p> + +<p>Fanny said no more, for she did not like the allusion to her having +eaten too much, and she was afraid of his asking inconvenient questions.</p> + +<p>She was better in a few days, but it was a whole week before she was +able to go out of the house. During this time she was in a manner +forced to think a little, for she could not read all the time, and +her grandma was very busy helping Oney in the dairy, so Fanny was +left to herself for some hours of every day. As she looked back over +the time she had been at her grandmother's, she was not pleased with +herself. She was conscious that, so far from making the impression +she had intended, she had not made herself respected by anybody. Her +grandmother had threatened to punish her, and, as she confessed, not +without reason. Willy showed himself a better scholar than herself, +and had been surprised at her ignorance, and Sarah Leyman, so far +from being impressed with her superiority, had declared that Fanny +was no better than she was, for all her schooling. All this was very +disagreeable, and made Fanny very angry at herself and everybody else +as she remembered it.</p> + +<p>Then again, Fanny's conscience was aroused. She realized for the first +time in her life what a naughty girl she had always been, and she +wondered, with a shudder, what would have become of her if she had +died. It was all true. She was not one bit better than Sarah Layman.</p> + +<p>"But I am going to be better," said Fanny to herself. "I mean to read +my Bible and say my prayers and attend to the sermon and learn my +Sunday-school lessons. Grandma says that Willy is a real Christian. It +is a pity if I can't be as good as that little poorhouse boy."</p> + +<p>This was not exactly a Christian spirit, but Fanny did not think of +that. She was as good as her word, however. She read three chapters in +the Bible every day, said all the prayers she could think of, and felt +very good indeed.</p> + +<p>She went to church and Sunday-school and to the meeting at the +schoolhouse, and was so sober and attentive that her grandmother was +much pleased with her, and told her so. This set up Fanny still more in +her own conceit, and she was wonderfully well satisfied with herself.</p> + +<p>"Fanny, do you Want to take a walk this afternoon?" asked her +grandmother one day when Fanny was quite well again. "It is very cool +and pleasant after the rain."</p> + +<p>"Yes, grandma," replied Fanny; "I should like it very much."</p> + +<p>"Then there are two people suited," said Mrs. Lilly, smiling. "I want +you to carry this basket down to old Mrs. Merrill, and you may stop at +the post-office and see if the papers have come. Put on your broad hat, +and don't walk to fast."</p> + +<p>"May I play in the grove a little while when I come back?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you like, only don't stay too long or lose your papers."</p> + +<p>Fanny, set out on her errand feeling very well pleased. She went first +to Mrs. Merrill's and left her basket of eggs and other good things.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear, how good your grandma is to think of me!" said the old +lady, much gratified. "And what a nice little girl you are to do +errands! I suppose you are Alvin's eldest girl, ain't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," answered Fanny.</p> + +<p>"You look like your aunt Eunice," said Mrs. Merrill. "I mean as she did +at your age."</p> + +<p>"I never knew that I had an Aunt Eunice," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she died long before you were born, my dear. She was only sixteen +when she died—just the age of my Mary Jane. I remember as if it was +yesterday when we had our first Sunday-school in the village. Eunice +and my Mary Jane and Sally Leyman and Mrs. Cassell's eldest girl—her +name was Eugenia—they were all in one class, and the next year they all +joined the church the same Sunday. But Sally was the only one who lived +to be over thirty."</p> + +<p>"Was Aunt Eunice pretty?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Why, no, not so very—not what folks call handsome nowadays, but she +was so sweet in all her ways that nobody ever thought of her looks +after the first five minutes. I don't think I ever saw a better girl +than Eunice Lilly—such a consistent Christian, and yet nothing gloomy +about her, always ready to help on any fun there was no harm in, but as +firm as a rock when any one tried to make her join in what wasn't just +right. You will try to be like her, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, I mean to try."</p> + +<p>"That's right. Here's your basket; and thank you very much, and your +grandma too."</p> + +<p>"I mean to be just like Aunt Eunice," thought Fanny as she walked up +the quiet street. "I mean to be so good that everybody will love me and +praise me, just as they did her, and I mean to set a good example to +Harry and Nelly, and make everybody look up to me. I mean to be very +good indeed, and perhaps somebody will write my life some day."</p> + +<p>Fanny's musings were interrupted by hearing her own name called. She +looked up and saw Mrs. Cassell leaning out of her carriage.</p> + +<p>"Isn't this Miss Fanny Lilly?" asked Mrs. Cassell, politely.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," answered Fanny.</p> + +<p>"I have some books that I wish to send to your grandmother," said Mrs. +Cassell. "I intended to drive up and bring them myself, but I find I +shall be engaged to-morrow. If you will get into the carriage and ride +over to our house, I will give you the books, and Hiram shall bring you +down to the village again."</p> + +<p>Fanny got into the carriage, and a few minutes brought her to Mrs. +Cassell's house. It was a beautiful old mansion built of dark red +bricks with trimmings of white marble, which is very abundant in that +part of the country. It stood a long way back from the road, and there +were many noble old trees about it. Everything about the house and +grounds was in perfect order, and Fanny thought she had never seen a +prettier place in her life.</p> + +<p>"I must ask you to come in and wait a few minutes," said Mrs. Cassell. +"Annie shall take you to see the kittens and Guinea pigs and the rest +of her pets. Annie, where are you?"</p> + +<p>"Here, grandma," answered a pleasant voice, and a little girl came out +of the next room. She was much younger than Fanny, being only about +seven years old. She was a blue-eyed, fair-haired, delicate-looking +child, and was very prettily dressed in a pink frock and white apron.</p> + +<p>Fanny peeped through the half-opened door, and saw that the room out of +which Annie had come was a large library.</p> + +<p>"This is Miss Fanny Lilly, my dear," said Mrs. Cassell; "Miss Fanny, +this is my granddaughter, Annie Mercer, from Detroit, who is come to +spend the summer with me."</p> + +<p>Annie came forward, like a well-bred little girl, to speak to Fanny.</p> + +<p>But Fanny, like many other girls who are bold in the wrong place, was +also shy in the wrong place, and made but a poor and awkward return.</p> + +<p>"You may take Fanny to see the kittens and Guinea pigs, Annie, while T +do up the parcels," said Mrs. Cassell, kindly. "I suppose you have done +all your lessons?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, grandma, and my sewing too," answered Annie. "I hemmed a yard +on my cap border, and Aunt Emma said it was very nicely done. I have +been helping Uncle Hugh cut the leaves of the new books. Come, Fanny."</p> + +<p>"Do you like Guinea pigs?" asked Annie as she led the way along the +verandah at the back of the house.</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I don't like pigs, anyway," answered Fanny.</p> + +<p>Annie laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they are not real pigs, you know," said she. "They are little +wee things, and Uncle Hugh says they are more like rabbits than pigs. +See, here they are. I have to keep them shut up, away from old puss; +he would soon eat them. But he don't know any better, you know," added +Annie, apologizing for pussy. "He thinks they are some kind of mice."</p> + +<p>Fanny looked down into the box, and saw half a dozen little creatures +about as large as young rabbits, spotted with black, brown, and yellow. +All of them that were not eating were asleep, and all that were not +asleep were eating, after the custom of Guinea pigs.</p> + +<p>"Are they not pretty?" said Annie. "Old Mrs. Willson gave them to me. I +had only these two at first; all the rest are young ones."</p> + +<p>Fanny did not care much for pets, and she was mortified at the mistake +she had made. But she looked at the Guinea pigs and said they were very +pretty.</p> + +<p>"After all, they are stupid little things; you may pet and feed them +ever so long, and they never seem to care for anything but eating," +said Annie. "But I don't suppose they are to blame for not knowing any +more."</p> + +<p>"What will you do with them when you go home?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"I mean to take one pair home with me for a little lame boy who lives +near our house, and give the others away. I will give you a pair if you +like. Don't take them if you don't want them," she added, seeing that +Fanny hesitated; "I shall not be offended a bit."</p> + +<p>"I guess I won't take them, then," said Fanny, "though I am much +obliged to you all the same. I am afraid I should forget to feed them, +or something."</p> + +<p>By this time Fanny began to feel at her ease, and, as usual, she began +to ask questions.</p> + +<p>"Do you learn lessons every day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; every day but Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Who hears you say them?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Emma, generally, and sometimes Uncle Hugh. I used to go to school +when I was at home, but they do not think I am well enough now, and I +am glad of it, because I like doing my lessons with Aunt Emma."</p> + +<p>"Where do you live when you are at home?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"In Detroit, in Michigan. Oh, it is a long way from here. We were two +or three days coming, and only think, Fanny! I had a beautiful doll, +all dressed in a travelling suit, and with a little morocco bag and +all, and I let a girl play with it on the cars, and she stole it when I +was asleep. Wasn't it a shame? But she hadn't any mother, I know, and +perhaps she didn't know any better."</p> + +<p>By the time Mrs. Cassell called Fanny to take the books, the two girls +had become very good friends. When they went back to the parlour, Mr. +Brandon came out of the library with two or three pretty-looking books +in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Are you fond of reading, Miss Fanny?" he asked, pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—some kinds," answered Fanny, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"'Some kinds' means stories, I suppose?" said Mr. Brandon, smiling. +"I believe one of my Sunday-school boys—Willy Beaubien—lives at your +house, does he not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"I should like to have you carry him this book, if you will be so kind; +and here is one you will perhaps like to read yourself. Tell Willy he +shall have another when he has finished this."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Mr. Brandon knows that Willy is only grandma's hired boy," +thought Fanny. But she did not say anything, and the carriage being +ready, she took her leave.</p> + +<p>"Hiram had better take you home, I think," said Mrs. Cassell. "It is +a long walk, and up hill all the way. Drive to the entrance of Mrs. +Lilly's lane, Hiram."</p> + +<p>Hiram obeyed, and left Fanny at the gate of the lane. Annie would have +thanked him for such a service, but Fanny never thought of doing so. +She had never been taught to be polite to servants, and she considered +them as a being much below herself in the social scale.</p> + +<p>As she walked along, she was startled to hear somebody say, in a +laughing tone, "What a great lady, to be sure! She feels too fine to +speak to common folks."</p> + +<p>Fanny turned round in a hurry.</p> + +<p>The next minute Sarah Leyman jumped over the fence almost as lightly as +a deer, and walked along by her side.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been, all so grand?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing so very grand," replied Fanny, in a superior tone. "I dare say +it seems so to you, but I have often been in much finer carriages than +Mrs. Cassell's."</p> + +<p>"Oh 'dear'!" said Sarah, mimicking Fanny's tone. "How wonderful we are, +to be sure! I wonder we can condescend to speak to anybody, much less +to a common person like poor Sarah Layman. But never mind. Let's go +into the grove and have a good time. What books have you got?"</p> + +<p>"I am not going to play with you any more, Sarah," said Fanny, in what +she intended for a very impressive and dignified tone. "I don't want to +quarrel with you, and I am very sorry for you, but I am going to be a +Christian, and, of course, I can't have anything more to do with you."</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare!" said Sarah, and then she burst into a ringing fit +of laughter. "What next? I should like to know how long since you felt +so?"</p> + +<p>Fanny felt very much vexed, but she answered, in the same tone, "Since +I was sick. I was very low indeed, and the doctor thought I was dying +for ever so long—"</p> + +<p>"That's a big one to begin with," interrupted Sarah. "I asked the +doctor about you myself, and he said that there was nothing more the +matter than that you had eaten too much, and that you would be about +again directly."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Fanny, though she knew that Dr. Perkins +had told her the very same thing. "Where did you see him, I should like +to know?"</p> + +<p>"I saw him go up to your house, and I waited for him at the gate and +asked him what was the matter. You see I thought about you, Fanny, +though you don't mean to play with me any more."</p> + +<p>Sarah said these words with an expression of real feeling, and then, +suddenly changing her tone, she added, "By the way, as you have +made up your mind to be a Christian, I suppose you began by telling +your grandmother all about your helping to eat the stolen pie and +gingerbread, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," replied Fanny, trying to keep up her tone of dignity +and reserve, but feeling all the time that she was making a signal +failure. "I didn't want to tell of you, Sarah, though I don't mean to +have anything more to do—with you," Fanny was going to conclude, but +she changed it into "such doings."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you needn't mind 'me'," said Sarah. "I wouldn't have you go on +telling lies and deceiving your grandmother for anything. Come to think +of it, I believe I will be a good girl and a Christian myself, and then +I suppose we can play together again. But you can't be a Christian +without confessing your sins, you know, Fanny. I dare say Mrs. Lilly +is blaming somebody else for the pie all this time. Come, let us go +together and tell her all about it directly." And Sarah quickened her +steps in the direction of the farm-house.</p> + +<p>Fanny looked at her to see if she were in fun, but she appeared quite +serious and determined.</p> + +<p>"You are not in earnest?" said Fanny, in rather a scared tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am in earnest. Come, why don't you walk faster? You can tell +what I did, and I can tell what you did, or we can each tell of +ourselves. I guess that will be the best way, after all."</p> + +<p>"But I can't—I dare not!" exclaimed Fanny, stopping short. "Oh, Sarah, +do come back!"</p> + +<p>"Well, what now?" asked Sarah, turning and coming back, for she was +already some steps in advance. "What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"You won't tell grandma, will you?" asked Fanny, trembling.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," replied Sarah, coolly. "That's the way to begin, by +confessing our sins. When old Mrs. Burt joined the church last winter, +she went to Mrs. Hoyt's and told her that she had cheated her out of +three dollars by putting water in the milk she sold her, and paid her +back the money. Mrs. Hoyt said that was the right way to begin, and she +gave the money to the missionary collection. Besides, I dare say Mrs. +Lilly is suspecting some one else all the time."</p> + +<p>Fanny knew that this was true, for she had heard her grandmother say +she thought the pie must have been taken by one of Mr. Wye's children.</p> + +<p>"But—but I can't," she stammered. "I am afraid. I don't know what she +would do to me."</p> + +<p>"Didn't she ask you anything about it?" asked Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course she did."</p> + +<p>"And you told her all sorts of lies, I suppose, and mean to stick to +them; and yet you call yourself a Christian, and think you are too good +to play with me!" said Sarah, in a tone of contempt. "Well, I don't +care; I mean to tell her, anyhow."</p> + +<p>Fanny sat down on a stone and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>Sarah stood by her in silence a minute or two.</p> + +<p>"So you don't want me to tell?" said she.</p> + +<p>Fanny only sobbed.</p> + +<p>"You will make your head ache with crying, and, besides, your grandma +will ask you what was the matter," said Sarah, presently. "Come, Fanny, +let's make a bargain. Don't you put on any airs to me and I won't tell +of you. But just as sure as you act again as you did just now, I will +go to Mrs. Lilly and tell her all about the pie and your running away. +I don't mind it when people are really good, like Mrs. Lilly and Aunt +Sally, but I do hate hypocrites. Come, will you agree to that?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall have to," said Fanny, rather sullenly.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, kiss and be friends. And now tell me where you have been +this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I can't stay now, Sarah, indeed I can't," said Fanny, rising. "I have +been gone too long already, but I will tell you all about it another +time," she added, seeing Sarah's face darken—"to-morrow, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Well, come up to the spring to-morrow afternoon. And, Fanny, I wish +you would lend me a story-book. You have got ever so many, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I brought a whole boxful, and Mr. Brandon lent me this one +to-day."</p> + +<p>"Let me see it," said Sarah, taking it from her hand and turning over +the pages. "It looks nice; I would as soon have this as any."</p> + +<p>Fanny felt very much vexed, but she dared not say a word.</p> + +<p>"On the whole, I will let you read it first," continued Sarah, +returning the book. "There! Run along, and be sure you come to the +spring to-morrow, or I shall come down to the house and ask for you."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_5">CHAPTER V.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>DANGER.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>FANNY hurried along up to the hill, walking so fast that she soon put +herself out of breath and had to sit down and rest.</p> + +<p>"Oh what a hateful thing she is!" she said to herself. "I wish she was +dead; I wish the bull would get out and kill her when she is going home +to-night. I don't care if it is wicked; I do wish so. There isn't one +bit of use in my trying to be good when she is around. I don't care; it +is all her fault."</p> + +<p>When Fanny reached home, she found supper ready.</p> + +<p>"We were just going to sit down without you," said her grandmother. +"What has kept you so long?"</p> + +<p>Fanny gave a straightforward account of herself, except that, as it may +be guessed, she said nothing about Sarah Leyman.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Lilly; "I am glad you had a nice visit at +Mrs. Cassell's, and it was very kind in Mr. Brandon to lend you and +Willy such nice, pretty books."</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether Mr. Brandon knows that Willy is a hired boy?" said +Fanny.</p> + +<p>"I presume he does. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing—only I was wondering whether, if he knew it, he would take +so much notice of him and lend him books, and so on."</p> + +<p>"And I wonder whether he would take so much notice of Fanny if he knew +how she talked about him and his wife?" said Oney.</p> + +<p>"I dare say it would not make much difference in either case," said +Mrs. Lilly, dryly. "Mr. Brandon is too much of a gentleman to think +less of a good boy because he works honestly for a living, or to mind +the idle gossip of two silly girls. Never mind, Willy; I hope Fanny +will know better some day."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brandon does know," said Willy. "He asked me where I lived, and I +told him all about it, and he said it was an excellent thing, and that +I couldn't be better off. I hope it is no disgrace to be a hired boy, +or man either."</p> + +<p>"I hope not," said Mrs. Lilly. "Fanny's father was one."</p> + +<p>"Why, grandma!" exclaimed Fanny. "You don't mean to say that 'my' +father was ever a hired boy."</p> + +<p>"I mean just exactly that," said Mrs. Lilly. "He lived out three +winters at Judge Higley's, and worked for his board that he might go +to school, and afterward, when he was in college, he used to hire out +in harvest-time that he might help pay his way, for money was not very +plenty in those times."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if I could go to college?" said Willy, while Fanny suddenly +subsided and became very busy in buttering her cakes.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what should prevent you," said Mrs. Lilly, "but it is +early to be thinking about that."</p> + +<p>"But there is no harm in thinking about it, is there?" asked Willy.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, not the least harm," replied Mrs. Lilly; "on the +contrary, there may be a great deal of good if you only think of it in +the right way."</p> + +<p>"What would you like to be, Willy—a lawyer or a minister?" asked Oney.</p> + +<p>"Neither, I think," replied Willy, soberly, and as if he had been +turning the matter over in his own mind for some time. "I think I +should like to be professor of a college, or else a State geologist, +like that gentleman who came here last summer and camped out on the +mountain with Mr. Brandon."</p> + +<p>"Well done!" exclaimed Oney, laughing. "You mean to aim high, anyway."</p> + +<p>"There is no reason that I know of why you should not be either," said +Mrs. Lilly, smoothing down Willy's black curls as he sat beside her at +the table. "A good many learned men have been worse off than Willy to +begin with."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I am badly off at all," said Willy. "I think I am as +well off as any boy I know."</p> + +<p>"Good for you!" said Oney, putting a large piece of cake on his plate. +"When you are president of a college, send for me, and I will come and +keep house for you."</p> + +<p>Fanny ate her supper in silence, feeling very much disgusted.</p> + +<p>"What a fuss they do make over him!" she thought. "And nobody takes any +more notice of me nor cares any more about me than if I was nothing at +all. I don't care. I'll 'make' them care about me some time. I mean +to be a missionary or something, and do a great deal of good, so that +every one shall talk about me and praise me. But there doesn't seem +to be much use in trying to be good so long as Sarah Leyman is round. +I wish I was in a convent or something, like that girl in my book who +went to the Moravian school in Germany. I mean to try, though. I will +be very good about everything else, and perhaps it won't matter so much +about Sarah. Grandma says we are all sinners, so I sha'n't be any worse +than the rest are."</p> + +<p>The next day, and for a good many days afterward, Fanny and Sarah met +somewhere about the farm—either up by the spring or in the grove by +the side of the river. Once or twice Sarah had tempted Fanny up on +the mountain-side by telling her of the wonderful stones and flowers +and mosses to be found there. But Fanny did not much like these +expeditions. The loneliness scared her, and so did the thick dark +evergreens, the great rocks, and the strange sounds she heard every +time she listened.</p> + +<p>"I don't see what you want to come here for," she said, pettishly, and +just ready to cry, one day when Sarah had coaxed her into visiting one +of her favourite haunts. "I think it is awfully lonesome and dismal, +and I don't like it one bit. One would think we were out of the world."</p> + +<p>"Now, that is just what I like," said Sarah. "It is so solemn, and the +wind makes such strange noises. But you must never try to come up here +by yourself, Fanny," she added, gravely. "Promise me that you will not."</p> + +<p>"No danger," said Fanny; "I don't like it well enough for that. Come, +do let us go down."</p> + +<p>Sarah agreed, and they walked down the blind path which led to the +spring. When they reached it, they sat down to rest, and Sarah took out +of her pocket the last book Fanny had lent her and began to read.</p> + +<p>"Don't read; it is so pokey," said Fanny. "I want to talk. You are very +fond of reading, all at once."</p> + +<p>"This is such a nice book," returned Sarah. "All the people in it are +so natural."</p> + +<p>She closed it, however, and they sat for some little time in silence.</p> + +<p>"Well, why don't you talk?" said she, at last.</p> + +<p>"I am listening," said Fanny. "I keep hearing such a strange noise, +like something growling or grumbling under ground. What can it be?"</p> + +<p>Sarah laid her ear to the ground to listen like an Indian.</p> + +<p>"It is the bull," said she, after a minute's silence. "He has got out +some how. We must run home as fast as we can. Now, don't begin to cry," +she added, sharply. "That will only hinder you."</p> + +<p>The two girls started for home, but as they came into the open field, +they saw the bull coming across the pasture straight toward them. Sarah +comprehended the situation in a moment, and had all her wits about her. +She was a girl of naturally strong mind, and her out-of-door life had +made her quick and self-reliant. Fanny wore a small red cloak. Sarah +snatched it from her shoulders, saying at the same time, in sharp, +clear tones,—</p> + +<p>"Now, Fanny, do just as I tell you, and you will be all right. Walk +away behind me—don't run—and get over the wall. I'll take to the trees, +and I bet I can dodge him, but never mind me. If I am caught, run home +and call somebody. There! Now, while I take across the field—'now'!"</p> + +<p>Fanny did as she was bid.</p> + +<p>With wonderful agility Sarah started for another part of the field, +running like a deer. When she had gone some little way, she turned, and +began shaking the scarlet cloak. The bull, attracted by the colour, and +taking it, as all bulls do, as a personal insult to himself, instantly +abandoned his intended chase of Fanny and ran at Sarah. But Sarah was +too quick for him. She dodged out of sight, first behind one tree and +then another, till she saw that Fanny was safely over the rough stone +wall. Then picking up a good-sized stone, and wrapping the cloak round +it, she threw it at the bull with such a correct aim that the missile +struck him full in the forehead. The next minute she went over the wall +at one spring, and came round to where Fanny was lying on the ground +crying as if her heart would break.</p> + +<p>"There! Don't cry. There is no more danger now," said Sarah, +soothingly. "Nothing is hurt but your cloak, and I guess you won't +get much of that," she added, peeping over the wall at the bull, who +was now expending all his rage on the scarlet flannel, tossing and +trampling it as if he had at last found the enemy he had been hunting +all his life.</p> + +<p>"It is all your fault," sobbed Fanny, finding her voice. "I should +think you would have been ashamed, Sarah Leyman."</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare!" said Sarah.</p> + +<p>"You needn't have given him my cloak," continued Fanny. "It was an +opera flannel, and cost ever so much money."</p> + +<p>"Which would you rather the bull should be tossing—me or the cloak? +It had to be the one or the other," said Sarah, very sensibly, and +naturally vexed at Fanny's unreasonable faultfinding. "I wonder what +you think would have become of you if I had not been here?"</p> + +<p>For the first time it occurred to Fanny that Sarah had saved her life.</p> + +<p>"To be sure, I don't know what I should have done," said she, "and I am +very much obliged to you, Sarah—only I don't like to have my pretty new +cloak spoiled."</p> + +<p>"Nor I, but you would rather it should be the cloak than me, wouldn't +you, Fanny?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Fanny; "but what shall I tell grandma?"</p> + +<p>"What you please," said Sarah, shortly. "Tell her the bull chased you +and you dropped your cloak, or tell her the whole truth. Why not?"</p> + +<p>"But then she will scold me for going with you," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>Sarah turned and looked at her with an expression of wonder and +contempt in her great black eyes.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what makes me care to go with 'you'?" she said, at last, in +an odd, choked voice.</p> + +<p>Fanny was silent. She did not know what to say.</p> + +<p>Sarah sat down on a stone and hid her face in her hands for a few +minutes.</p> + +<p>"I say, Fanny," said she, looking up suddenly, "let's you and I set +out to be Christians in good earnest, instead of only pretending to be +good."</p> + +<p>"I 'am' good now," replied Fanny, rather indignantly. "I read my Bible +and say my prayers every day, and I heard grandma say to Oney that I +had been very good lately, and I have, I know. I learned three hymns +yesterday of my own accord."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Then, of course, Mrs. Lilly knows all about your running away, and +about the pie and all?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no," said Fanny, hesitating. "I didn't think it worth while. What +would be the use? She thinks it was one of the Wye children, and she +may as well think so."</p> + +<p>"The use would be that you would be telling the truth instead of +telling and acting lies all the time," said Sarah. "Now, it is of no +use, Fanny. You know you can't be a Christian in any such way as that. +Don't she ever say anything about the pie now?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes."</p> + +<p>"And don't she ever ask you, when you come in, where you have been and +what you have been doing?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, she almost always does."</p> + +<p>"And then you tell her the truth, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"It is no business of yours what I tell her," replied Fanny, sullenly.</p> + +<p>"Maybe not, but it is of yours," said Sarah. "Don't you know, Fanny, +the Bible says no one that loves or makes a lie can go to heaven? I +remember Aunt Sally's telling me that years ago."</p> + +<p>"What makes you want to be a Christian, Sarah? I mean, what sets you to +thinking about it?" asked Fanny, trying to turn the conversation.</p> + +<p>"Partly the books I have been reading, and partly some old journals and +letters of Aunt Sally's that I found in a trunk up in our garret, and +partly—well, I don't know that I can tell you if I try. All the best +people I know are religious. Pa was going on the other day about pious +people being all hypocrites, and says I, 'Pa, where would we have been +if pious people had not helped us last winter when you broke your leg?'"</p> + +<p>"You would have an awful time with your father," remarked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"We have that now," said Sarah.</p> + +<p>"And you would have to go to church and Sunday-school and learn your +lessons," continued Fanny. "You couldn't run about all day Sunday and +weekday as you do now. You wouldn't like that at all."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I should mind," said Sarah, thoughtfully. "Running about +is all very well, but one may have too much of it. I'll tell you what, +Fanny: I will try if you will. Let us go together and tell the old lady +all about it, and then we can begin in earnest. She won't be hard on +us, I know."</p> + +<p>"I can't, I tell you," said Fanny, in an agony of alarm and vexation. +"She would whip me, I know, for she said the other day that she never +whipped pa but once, and that was for telling lies. And then they would +all despise me so. Oh, Sarah, don't! Wait till I go away, and then you +can tell her if you like."</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't tell of you, only of myself," said Sarah.</p> + +<p>"She will get it all out of you, you may be sure. She is so sharp! I am +afraid every day, as it is, that she will find me out."</p> + +<p>"Don't you suppose God finds you out, Fanny?" asked Sarah, in a low +voice. "Don't you think that, for all your hymns and prayers and Bible +readings, you are only making believe all the time? Aunt Sally used to +say he knew our very inmost thoughts."</p> + +<p>"Your aunt was a church-member, wasn't she?" asked Fanny, hoping to +divert Sarah's attention. "Mrs. Merrill told me something about her."</p> + +<p>"She was a good woman, if ever there was one in this world," said +Sarah, with feeling. "If she had lived, I know I should have been very +different, but she died when I was only eight. But come, Fanny, let us +go and see your grandmother."</p> + +<p>"I 'won't'! So there!" exclaimed Fanny. "And if you tell her, I'll run +away and go down to Boston all alone. I have got twenty dollars of my +own, and I can go on the cars; and I will, Sarah Leyman, if you tell +her one word. And besides, you can't tell her to-day," said Fanny, with +a sense of sudden relief. "She has gone away, and won't be home till +Saturday."</p> + +<p>This was not true, for Mrs. Lilly expected to be at home next morning.</p> + +<p>"If she isn't at home, of course I can't tell her," said Sarah. "You +had better go home now, Fanny. Be sure you tell them that the bull is +loose, because he may do some great mischief. Good-night."</p> + +<p>Sarah turned and walked rapidly away across the fields.</p> + +<p>Fanny watched her for a minute, and then went home. She informed Oney +that the bull was loose, that he had chased her and torn her flannel +cloak all to pieces, but she never said a word about Sarah Leyman.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>AT MEETING.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>FOR a good many days Fanny saw nothing more of Sarah Leyman. She was +not at the spring or down by the river, nor did she come to the house, +as Fanny had feared she would.</p> + +<p>One day, however, Willy came in, bringing a pretty little birch bark +basket filled with beautiful wild raspberries. He said Sarah Leyman had +met him in the lane and handed him the basket, asking him to give it to +Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>"What beautiful berries, and what a nice little basket the poor girl +has made!" said Mrs. Lilly, admiring the basket, which was indeed most +ingeniously made, and lined with fresh green leaves. "I wonder where +she found the berries? I thought they were all over."</p> + +<p>"Up on the mountains somewhere, I dare say," replied Oney. "They always +ripen ten days later up there. I wonder she dares run about as she +does, but she seems to have no more fear than a wild creature. They say +she is often gone whole days and nights together."</p> + +<p>"Grandma, why is it so dangerous to go on the mountain without a +guide?" asked Fanny. "Are there wild beasts to hurt anybody?"</p> + +<p>"It is dangerous for several reasons," replied Mrs. Lilly. "In the +first place, it is very easy for inexperienced persons to lose +themselves, and there are many dangerous places."</p> + +<p>"Such as what?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Such as precipices and deep cracks between the rocks into which one +might fall and never be found again, and bogs in which you might be +smothered and swallowed up in the mud. Then, in the upper part of the +mountain, there are often sudden fogs and showers and cold winds which +would chill you to the bone in five minutes."</p> + +<p>"Are there any wild beasts?"</p> + +<p>"Not on this side, though even here, I suppose, one might meet a bear +or a wildcat now and then. But on the other side they say there are +both bears and panthers, besides plenty of rattlesnakes, though I have +not heard of any being killed very lately. But the mountain is a very +dangerous place, and you must never go up alone as Sarah does. It is a +thousand pities the poor child has not a better home."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with her home?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Well, her father is a bad man, to begin with. He drinks very hard at +times; and though he is a skilful workman, he will never do a day's +work as long as he can help it. His mother is—well, I don't mean to +be hard upon her," said Mrs. Lilly, "but the truth is, she is nothing +but a nuisance—an idle, gossiping, tale-bearing, mischief-making +slattern. If she spent half the time in taking care of her house and +family that she does in running about the village, picking up and +repeating slanders and gossiping with old Miss Clarke, she might keep +things going on well enough. But as it is, they never have anything +comfortable or decent from one year's end to another."</p> + +<p>"Who was Sarah's aunt Sally?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"She was Mr. Leyman's sister, but as different from him as light from +darkness. A better woman never breathed, and while she lived the family +were somewhat respectable. She used to do tailoring and dressmaking, +and sometimes she went out nursing. She was one of the best hands in a +sick-room that ever I saw."</p> + +<p>"What did she die of?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Of hard work principally—of toiling night and day to support her great +lazy brother and his family. I never saw a child grieve so at a death +as Sarah did for her aunt. She was only eight years old, poor little +wild thing! But when they came to screw down the coffin, she screamed, +and threw herself upon it and would not let anybody touch it, and they +had to take her away by force. Does Sarah ever say anything about her +aunt?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," answered Fanny, coolly. "I never see Sarah nowadays. +You told me not to play with her, so I don't."</p> + +<p>Willy's black eyes shot a glance at Fanny which said a great deal, but +he spoke not a word.</p> + +<p>Fanny felt the look, however, and wondered how much Willy knew, and +whether he would be likely to tell of her.</p> + +<p>The next Sunday, as they were coming home from church in the village, +Mrs. Lilly said to Fanny, "We are going to have some company this week, +Fanny. Mrs. Cassell and Mr. and Mrs. Brandon and Annie are coming up +here to spend the day on Wednesday, and perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Brandon +may stay a few days."</p> + +<p>"Oh how nice!" said Willy.</p> + +<p>And Oney added, "It will seem like old times to have Mr. Brandon about +the house again. But I must be careful, now that he has grown such a +great man. As likely as not, I shall be calling him Hugh, the first +thing."</p> + +<p>"I dare say it wouldn't do any harm if you did," said Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>"Where in the world did 'you' ever know Mr. Brandon?" asked Fanny, with +an emphasis on the "you" which was not very polite, to say the least.</p> + +<p>"He used to live with us once," replied Oney. "He was rather a delicate +boy, and his father used to send him to the mountains in summer, and he +spent all his college vacations with us after his father died. Don't +you remember the description of our house in his book—I don't remember +the name, but that story about the war?"</p> + +<p>"I never read any of Mr. Brandon's books," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Why, Fanny!" exclaimed Willy, who had an untamable appetite for books, +and who was perpetually astonished by Fanny's indifference to them. +"Why, it has lain on the table all summer."</p> + +<p>"Well, what of that?" returned Fanny, tartly. "Is that any reason why I +should read it?"</p> + +<p>"It would be a reason with me," said Willy; "besides, it is so +interesting."</p> + +<p>"There's an odds in folks, you see, Willy," said Oney. "But hadn't you +better study it up, Fanny? Mr. Brandon might ask you some questions +about it."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! I hope not," said Fanny, in alarm. "Do you think he will, +grandma?"</p> + +<p>"No, my dear. Authors are not very apt to talk about their own books."</p> + +<p>"Do you think he would be offended if I were to ask him about some +things in his other book—I mean the one about South America?" asked +Willy.</p> + +<p>"No; I dare say he would be pleased to find that you had read his book +so carefully."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that, because there are ever so many things that I want +to know more about," said Willy. "I mean to get the book and look it +over again."</p> + +<p>"Well, I shouldn't think you would want to, Willy," said Fanny, who +had her private reasons for being alarmed at Willy's announcement. "It +would look like putting yourself forward, and I am sure Mr. Brandon +would not like it. He isn't used to associating with all sorts of +people," said Fanny, with a grand air. "He associates with the best +families in Boston."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Willy. "Well, I don't know about the first families in +Boston, but I don't mean to keep any company I am ashamed to own, +Fanny."</p> + +<p>This hint alarmed Fanny, and she did not speak another word all the way +home; she was afraid Willy knew too much.</p> + +<p>That evening Fanny went with the rest to the five-o'clock meeting in +the schoolhouse down the road. They were rather early, and took their +usual seats on the side of the room. Fanny liked this, because she +could watch all who came in, and make her remarks on their dress and +manners. The room was pretty full at last, for it was a cool, pleasant +evening, and quite a number of people walked up from the village to +attend the service.</p> + +<p>Just as the first hymn was being sung, Sarah Leyman came in and slipped +into a seat near the door. She had made herself as neat as she knew +how, and looked very handsome, for in spite of her dark skin, made +darker by exposure to all sorts of weather, Sarah was a beautiful girl. +She behaved with perfect propriety; and when she raised her head after +the first prayer, Fanny felt sure that she had been crying.</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare!" said Fanny to herself. "I wonder what she will do +next? I wonder if she really means to do as she said! Oh dear! I am +sure I hope not, for then she will go and tell grandma."</p> + +<p>And then for one moment Fanny saw how utterly mean and selfish she +was, and what a wicked and false life she was leading. That momentary +glimpse of herself might have done Fanny a great deal of good and saved +herself and others a great deal of distress if she had profited by +it. But she did not. She only went on thinking how she could possibly +manage to keep Sarah and her grandmother apart.</p> + +<p>"Were you not surprised at seeing Sarah Leyman at meeting?" asked Oney +of Mrs. Lilly as they walked home together. "I should as soon have +expected to see one of the wild eagles off the mountain. But she looked +and behaved very well, didn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Very well; and I was glad to see her there," replied Mrs. Lilly. "I +hope it is a good sign. I must try to have a talk with her some time. I +have a Testament that her aunt gave to my Eunice when they were girls +together; I think I will give it to Sarah. Perhaps she would read it +because it was her aunt's."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't, grandma," said Fanny; "she would only make all sorts of +fun of it, as she does of everything about religion. That's one reason +why I didn't want to play with her any more. She talked so she scared +me."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear that," said Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>"That's all she went to meeting for, I know," continued Fanny, growing +bolder, and determined at all hazards to prevent any chance of an +understanding between her grandmother and Sarah. "She will go home and +mimic the minister and deacon and poor Mr. Willson, and make all sorts +of fun of them. She has listened under the window on purpose before +now."</p> + +<p>"Who told you?" asked Oney.</p> + +<p>"She told me herself," returned Fanny, boldly. "I used to play with +her when I first came here, and I did play with her two or three times +after grandma forbade me, but I have not done it this long time—not +since I have been trying to be a good girl. If you talked to her ever +so kindly, she would only go away and make fun of you."</p> + +<p>"Well, that wouldn't hurt me," said Mrs. Lilly, "and we can never know +what words will do good. I don't like to think that any girl can be a +hardened sinner at fifteen, and especially one who was the child of so +many prayers as Sarah."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lilly," said Willy, "don't you think that a person who pretended +to be good and religious all the time that he knew he was wicked would +be a great deal harder to convert than one like Sarah Leyman?"</p> + +<p>"No doubt," returned Mrs. Lilly. "Especially if the hypocrite were +self-deceived."</p> + +<p>"I suppose hypocrites usually do impose on themselves more or less," +remarked Oney.</p> + +<p>"Almost always to some degree, I presume. A man who is destroying his +neighbour's body and soul by selling liquor, may very likely make +himself think that he is quite a good man because he gives away money +liberally; and another, who will cheat half an ounce in every pound he +sells, comforts himself by thinking that he keeps Sunday carefully, +and always has family prayers; and so of other things. I would rather +undertake to make an impression on poor Sarah, or even on Sam Leyman +himself, than on such a person. But I will certainly speak to Sarah if +I have a chance. It can at least do no harm. Oney, there is Squire Howe +before us, and I want to speak to him about drawing Mrs. Merrill some +wood. He said he would give her a load any time, and I dare say it will +be more convenient for him to do it before harvest."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly and Oney walked on quickly, and no sooner were the children +alone together than Willy broke out with more than his usual vehemence.</p> + +<p>"Fanny Lilly, I do think that you are the very meanest creature that +ever lived in this world. Nobody but a girl could be so mean as +you are. You are as much worse than Sarah Leyman than she is worse +than—than Grandma Lilly," said Willy, finishing up with a grand climax.</p> + +<p>"Why, Willy, what is the matter now?" asked Fanny. "What have I done to +you?"</p> + +<p>"To me! You haven't done anything to me, only you are always hinting +about my being a hired boy and coming from the poorhouse, and Mr. +Brandon said himself that nobody but a snob would throw such a thing in +a fellow's face. But I don't care so much about that. It is the way you +treat Sarah Leyman that makes me despise you. As if I didn't know how +you have been with her day after day, going over to the Corners with +her, and all! As if I didn't know how she saved you from the bull! And +you never said one word about her, though it is the greatest wonder in +the world she wasn't killed."</p> + +<p>"I should like to know how you found out anything about it," said +Fanny, trying to speak in an unconcerned manner.</p> + +<p>"Because I saw it; that's all."</p> + +<p>"I think you might have come to help us, than, instead of watching and +spying," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"I did come, but I was too late. I was up in the barn-loft and saw the +whole performance, but before I could get to you, it was all over. So I +went to find Mr. Wye and tell him about the bull. And after that, you +abuse her behind her back, and don't want your grandma to show her the +least kindness or even speak a good word to the poor girl. I suppose +you are afraid she will find out some of your secrets. I always thought +you knew more about that pie than you chose to tell."</p> + +<p>Fanny was very angry, but she controlled herself; and answered, +quickly, "You are very much mistaken, Willy, as you will see when you +know all about it. I only met Sarah by accident that day. The only +reason that I didn't tell grandma and Oney how she saved me from the +bull was that she made me promise not to say a word about it, because +she said she left the bars down, and let out the bull herself. All +I said about her making fun of religion was every word true, only I +didn't tell it half as bad as it was, because I didn't like to repeat +such stuff, and because I didn't want to tell grandma how Sarah made +fun of her for praying in the meeting Thursday evening, and for sitting +at the table with a dirty nigger, like Oney. Those were her very words."</p> + +<p>"Oney isn't a nigger, and if she was, she couldn't help it; and I don't +think nigger is a very pretty name to call any one," said Willy.</p> + +<p>"Nor I; and that wasn't the worst she said, by a great deal. As for +the pie," continued Fanny, feeling that she was "in for it," and that +a few more lies would not make much difference—"as for the pie, you +are right, Willy. I do know—or at least I have a very good guess—where +it went, but I wasn't going to say what I thought when Sarah and I had +played together. I would like to have Sarah a good girl as well as +anybody, and I have talked to her myself, but there is no use in it. +She only makes fun of me, and I don't want her to make fun of grandma.</p> + +<p>"I know I have hurt your feelings, sometimes, Willy, but I never meant +to do it, and I beg your pardon. You see things are very different here +from what they are in Boston. There were two girls who came to our +school last winter, and everybody liked them at first, but by and by +the girls found out that their mother was a dressmaker, and after that +a good many of the scholars would not speak to them. I heard Cousin +Emma tell of a gentleman who refused to be introduced to a young girl +at her house because he thought she was not genteel enough."</p> + +<p>"If I had been master of the house, he would have seen the outside of +it pretty suddenly," said Willy, who had the instincts of a gentleman. +"Besides, I know all Boston people are not like that. Those gentlemen +who came up and camped out on the mountain last summer were as polite +and pleasant to everybody as they could be."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, that was the reason I didn't like to see Sarah at +meeting, because I knew why she had come," persisted Fanny, returning +to the first subject. "Of course I am thankful to her for saving me +from the bull, though she got me into the scrape in the first place, +but that doesn't prevent me from seeing her faults."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said Willy, not more than half satisfied. "Well, anyhow, I +hope Grandma Lilly will have a real good talk with her."</p> + +<p>"And so do I, because, after all, it won't hurt grandma if Sarah does +make fun of her, and perhaps grandma may do her some good," said Fanny. +But in her heart she was determined that this talk should never take +place if she could help it.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>THE OFFENCE GIVEN.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE next day, and the next, Fanny went up to the spring and down to the +grove, but she could see nothing of Sarah.</p> + +<p>The next afternoon she was sent on an errand to the Corners. She went +"'cross-lots," as they say; and passing the end of Sam Leyman's garden, +she saw Sarah sitting at work on the back doorstep and called to her.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Fanny?" exclaimed Sarah, jumping up and coming to meet +Fanny with an expression of real pleasure on her face. "Where are you +going?"</p> + +<p>"Over to the Corners for grandma. Don't you want to go with me?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid Mrs. Lilly wouldn't like it," said Sarah, hesitating in a +way very unusual with her.</p> + +<p>"Seems to me you have taken a very sudden fit of goodness," said Fanny, +not at all pleased. "I wonder how long you have been so particular? +Ever since you went to meeting the other night, I suppose. But do come +a little way with me. I want to see you ever so much."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't care."</p> + +<p>"I went down to the grove yesterday on purpose to find you," said +Fanny, in rather an injured tone, as they walked across the pasture +together. "I thought you would certainly be there. Why didn't you come?"</p> + +<p>"Well, for two or three reasons; I was busy at home, for one thing, +mending and washing Ally's clothes, and trying to patch up some of my +own old frocks, so as to be a little more decent. And besides, Fanny, +to tell you the truth, I thought it would be rather mean after your +grandma spoke to me so kindly Sunday night."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; very kindly indeed—to your face," said Fanny, sneeringly.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing—only Oney said she wondered what had brought 'that' Sarah +Leyman to meeting, and grandma said she presumed you had only come to +make fun of everything and everybody, and she thought you had better +stay away, at least till you had something decent to wear."</p> + +<p>"Did Mrs. Lilly say that?" asked Sarah, in a low tone.</p> + +<p>"She said a great deal more than that," replied Fanny, "and so did +the rest of the people?" And she proceeded to repeat a number of +contemptuous speeches which she professed to have overheard, till she +was stopped by Sarah's throwing herself on the ground and bursting out +into a passionate fit of crying.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" asked Fanny, surprised and rather alarmed at the +storm she had raised. "What are you crying about?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care so much for the rest of them," said Sarah, sitting up +with her black eyes flashing through her tears. "But Mrs. Lilly that I +thought was so good, and that spoke to me so kindly! I don't care; I +never will believe in anybody's goodness again. Fanny, are you telling +me the truth? Was your grandma really so mean and wicked as that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything so mean and wicked," said Fanny, rather scared, +but not at all understanding Sarah's state of mind. "She said what she +thought, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"When did she say what she thought, when she was telling me to my face +that she was glad to see me and hoped I would come again, or when she +was talking against me behind my back, and saying she should think I +would be ashamed to show myself? Come now, Fanny! She did not really +say all that. You are making it up to tease me, I know."</p> + +<p>"You can ask Willy, for he heard her," said Fanny, determined to stand +her ground, but beginning to wish she had not said anything.</p> + +<p>"I have a great mind to go and ask Mrs. Lilly herself," said Sarah.</p> + +<p>"You will get into a scrape if you do, I can tell you," said Fanny, +knowing that if Sarah and her grandmother came together, they would +soon arrive at an understanding. "Grandma knows that it was you who let +out the bull."</p> + +<p>"It was 'not' me!" exclaimed Sarah, indignantly. "I 'never' leave the +bars down, and hardly ever go through them, and I had not seen the bull +that day."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, she thinks you did, and she is very angry about it. She +said if she caught you, she would have you sent where you would be +taken care of and kept out of mischief. And Mrs. Crane said you would +be a great deal better off in the asylum, and that grandma would be +doing a good turn to everybody."</p> + +<p>"I should like to see them put me in the asylum!" exclaimed Sarah. "I +never will go there. I will kill myself or somebody else first." And +down went her head on the grass again in a tempest of grief and anger.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe there is one single good person in all the world," +she said, through her sobs. "I wonder whether there is anything good +anywhere? If it wasn't for poor Ally, I would go and jump into Pope's +hole this very day, and so be dead and buried at the same time."</p> + +<p>Ally was Sarah's younger sister, and her special pet.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Aunt Sally was just such a hypocrite as your grandmother?" +continued Sarah, with a fresh burst of grief. "I wonder if all her +goodness was just lies and pretence?"</p> + +<p>"You shall not call my grandmother a hypocrite, Sarah Leyman; I should +think you would be ashamed." And then Fanny stopped suddenly, for it +occurred to her that it was herself who had given her grandmother such +a character, and not Sarah. She could not in the least understand the +cause of Sarah's excessive grief, and thought she was only angry at +being laughed at.</p> + +<p>"Oh come, never mind," said she, presently. "Why, it isn't anything so +very dreadful; and besides, if you want to come to meeting, you can +come, for all them."</p> + +<p>"I shall never come again, never," said Sarah, sitting up and wiping +her eyes. "I did think that night I would try to be a Christian. I made +up my mind to it; I have said my prayers ever since, and I was going to +ask you to give me or lend me a Testament to read myself and to teach +Ally out of. Father won't have a Bible in the house, if he knows it, +but I would keep it hidden away where he could not find it. But it is +all over now. There is no use in trying."</p> + +<p>The tone of hopeless despair in which Sarah said these words made its +way even into Fanny's blunt feelings. She began to feel a little sorry +for what she had done.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wouldn't say so," said she; "I wouldn't give it all up for +that—just because grandma isn't perfect. Just keep on and be good all +the same. I do."</p> + +<p>"You do!—You!" said Sarah, in a tone of contemptuous wonder. "Fanny +Lilly, do you really think you are a good girl?"</p> + +<p>Her tone and words made Fanny wince, but she stood her ground.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I do," she replied. "I read my Bible and say my prayers +every day, and I have been reading ever so many good books. I learned +two hymns only yesterday. If that isn't being a good girl—"</p> + +<p>"Well, it isn't—not according to my notion," said Sarah. "That would +not be my way of being good. Fanny," she added, with sudden energy, "if +you tell me that all you have said is just made up to tease me, I will +be your friend for ever, and I will do anything in the world for you. I +don't care; I mean to ask Mrs. Lilly about it, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Well, you can do as you please, of course," said Fanny, affecting an +unconcern which she by no means felt. "I shouldn't think you would like +to be taken and shut up with all those poorhouse children, and never +see Ally nor anybody again, but if you do, I don't know why I need +care. I went to see the asylum with grandma, and it did not look very +pleasant, I tell you."</p> + +<p>The asylum spoken of by Fanny was one for poor children which had been +established at R— by the joint efforts of two counties. The children of +paupers were carried to this asylum instead of the poorhouse, and were +taught and cared for.</p> + +<p>"Besides, I shouldn't know whether she told the truth or not if she +spoke ever so kindly to me," said Sarah. "I shall never know whether +anybody is true again, or anything, for that matter. Well, let it go. I +dare say it is all nonsense, as pa says, and that nobody cares whether +we are good or bad. Come, tell me the news. What has happened?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing very particular that I know of, only old Mrs. Cassell and her +granddaughter and Mr. and Mrs. Brandon are coming up to our house to +spend the day on Wednesday, and Mr. and Mrs. Brandon are going to stay +for a visit. Oney is making all kinds of nice things. Oh, by the way, +Sarah, I want that volume of Mr. Brandon's travels that I lent you. +Willy has been hunting the house over for it."</p> + +<p>"I'll get it when I go home," said Sarah. "He's another, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Another what?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Another of the hypocrites," said Sarah.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know he pretended to be anything so very good."</p> + +<p>"Don't he? I met him up on the mountain last week. He was looking for +wild flowers, and I showed him some kinds he had never seen before; and +didn't he talk 'good'? I thought he was a wicked young man before, and +so I told him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sarah, you never told Mr. Brandon all that stuff?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did; and he only laughed and said, 'Don't be in such a hurry to +believe evil of people you don't know, my girl. Anybody as bright as +you ought to have something better to think about than idle, gossiping +stories.' And then I told him I was reading his book, but I couldn't +understand it very well. Oh, we had a real nice talk, I can tell you. +But I dare say he is all humbug, like the rest of them. Annie Cassell +is a cunning little thing, though. You bring her up to the spring, and +we will have a real nice time."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose grandma will let me," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"You needn't tell her all about it, you goose. Just tell her you want +to show Annie the spring. There is no harm in that."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about it."</p> + +<p>"If you don't, I will just come down to the house and ask to see you, +and tell your grandma you promised to come and bring Annie with you."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't tell such a lie?" said Fanny, alarmed.</p> + +<p>"You'll see," was the answer. "Why shouldn't I tell lies as well as +other folks? Just as sure as you don't come, I will come down to the +house and ask for you. You needn't be afraid. You don't suppose I want +to hurt the child, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No; of course not. Well, I will come if I can."</p> + +<p>When Fanny reached home, she went to find her grandmother, who was in +the dairy. The truth was, she had seen Willy in the field, and was +by no means sure that he had not seen her walking with Sarah. So she +meant to be beforehand with him, in case he should have any intention +of telling of her. So first putting Mr. Brandon's book down behind the +parlour table that it might have the appearance of having fallen by +accident, she went into the milkroom, where Mrs. Lilly was working over +her butter—an operation which she always performed herself if possible.</p> + +<p>"Grandma," said she, "I met Sarah Leyman at the Corners; and she walked +over home with me. I couldn't get rid of her without being rude, and I +knew you wouldn't want me to hurt her feelings."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Mrs. Lilly, feeling pleased that Fanny should +come to her so frankly. "Don't be unkind to her in any way. How did she +seem to feel?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, just as usual," said Fanny. "She says she thinks all religious +people are hypocrites alike."</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether she thinks her aunt Sally was one?" said Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>"I asked her that, and she said she didn't remember much about her, but +she didn't believe there was much to choose."</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" said Mrs. Lilly, sighing.</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose one ought to be sorry for her, and yet I could not +help being angry," said Fanny. "I told her she ought to be ashamed, +but she went on worse than ever. I do believe she will make fun of +anything. I never heard her so bad as she was to-day."</p> + +<p>"That may be only a sign that her heart is touched," said Mrs. Lilly. +"She may be trying to silence her conscience. Those have a great deal +to answer for who have brought her up in such a way."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," said Oney, who had just come in with her hands full of +cake warm from the oven. "'Whoso shall offend one of these little ones, +it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and +that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.' I wouldn't like to have +the responsibility that rests on that girl's father and mother."</p> + +<p>"I hoped for better things from seeing Sarah at the meeting," said Mrs. +Lilly, "but Fanny tells me she only makes fun of the whole thing. But +it may be only that she is trying to put down conviction in her own +mind. You must be very careful what you say to her, Fanny. I wish I +could get a chance for a quiet talk with her."</p> + +<p>"Has Willy found that book yet?" asked Fanny, feeling very +uncomfortable, and wishing to change the subject before anything else +was said.</p> + +<p>"No, not yet; I can't think what has become of it," replied Mrs. Lilly. +"I hope it is not lost."</p> + +<p>"I believe I will go and take a look for it; perhaps I may find it in +some place Willy has overlooked," said Fanny. "I am pretty good at +finding things."</p> + +<p>"Do, my dear, and dust the books in the parlour at the same time. And, +Fanny, you may get out all the Indian curiosities, and arrange them; +they will help to amuse Annie."</p> + +<p>Fanny dusted and arranged and put everything in nice order, trying to +become so much interested in her work as not to think of anything else, +for the words of Oney rang in her ears very uncomfortably. "Whosoever +offendeth one of these little ones—" Fanny thought that did not sound +quite right, and she opened the book to see.</p> + +<p>"Whoso shall offend one of these little ones which 'believe' in 'me,—'"</p> + +<p>That did not mend the matter, and she shut the book and laid it down +as if it burned her fingers. Was not this just what, she had done? Had +she not offended Sarah just as she was beginning to believe? Had she +not done her best to prevent her from taking another step in that path +which the poor girl was just trying to enter—the path which led to +safety, to happiness and salvation? Suppose Sarah should never repent +and become a Christian, whose would be the fault?</p> + +<p>"Well, I couldn't help it," said Fanny to herself. "I couldn't have her +coming up here and talking to grandma, and telling her everything, as I +am sure she would the very first thing if grandma coaxed her a little. +I don't see how I can help going to the spring to-morrow, either, but +I must be sure and make Annie promise not to tell. Tiresome little +torment! I wish she wasn't coming at all. I dare say she will get me +into some scrape or other."</p> + +<p>Fanny busied herself till tea-time with the books and curiosities, and +in unpacking her doll and its clothes, which had remained in their box +ever since she left home. When Oney called her to supper, she came into +the kitchen, holding up the missing book in triumph.</p> + +<p>"See what I have found," said she.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Brandon's book! How glad I am!" exclaimed Willy, with +sparkling eyes. "Where did you find it? I have hunted all over for it."</p> + +<p>"It was behind the table in the parlour," said Fanny. "You couldn't +have looked very sharp, Willy."</p> + +<p>Willy looked as if he did not know how to believe his ears.</p> + +<p>"Why, Fanny!" he exclaimed. "I don't see how that can be. I moved the +table and looked behind it this very morning, and I am sure the book +was not there then, or I would have seen it."</p> + +<p>"I am sure it was," answered Fanny, positively. "I found it when I +was dusting the parlour. I happened to think I would move out the +table, and down fell the book directly. So you see, Willy, you must be +mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you only thought you would move it, or you might not have +moved it far enough," said Mrs. Lilly. "Never mind; I am glad the book +is found."</p> + +<p>"Well, if that isn't the strangest thing, I wouldn't say so," said +Willy to Oney when they were alone together. "Oney, I know just as well +as I know anything that the book was not there this morning. I pulled +the table clear away from the wall, and looked behind it and under the +cloth and everywhere."</p> + +<p>"So did I," said Oney. "I am sure that it was not there."</p> + +<p>"Then why didn't you say so?" asked Willy, a little vexed.</p> + +<p>"Because I am an Indian, and know how to hold my tongue—a thing which I +sometimes think white folks never learn," said Oney, smiling. "Where's +the use in making a fuss?"</p> + +<p>"But Fanny is so awful deceitful," said Willy; "I do think Mrs. Lilly +ought to know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she'll find out, never you fear," replied Oney; "and I would +rather she found out of herself, without any help of mine. You see, +Fanny is playing 'good' just now, and the old lady thinks she is just +right. I have given her two or three hints, but she would not hear, and +the other day she as much as told me she was afraid I was jealous of +Fanny. So I made up my mind to let matters alone, and you had better do +the same."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>SARAH'S PLANS.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE next day was Wednesday—the day appointed for Mrs. Cassell's visit. +Fanny remembered it the moment she opened her eyes, and did not exactly +know whether she were glad or sorry.</p> + +<p>"I should be glad, only for going up to the spring," she thought, "but +perhaps, after all, Annie's grandmother won't let her go, and then I +shall have a good excuse. I don't care: I mean to have a good time, +anyway. And even if Sarah does come to the spring, grandma need not +know that I expected her. How bad she did feel yesterday! I wonder +what ailed her? I shouldn't think she need mind so much. They can't do +anything to her."</p> + +<p>In truth, Fanny was quite incapable of understanding Sarah's feelings. +With Fanny, partly from her natural disposition and more from the way +in which she had been brought up, self was everything. She judged of +everything as it affected herself. What pleased her or afforded her +any advantage was right; whatever displeased or annoyed her was wrong. +She would not have shed a tear at finding out her best friend in the +greatest crime or meanness, so long as it did not affect herself.</p> + +<p>She liked Sarah in her fashion, because Sarah's wit and wild stories +amused her, and because she was, on the whole, an agreeable playmate, +and it never troubled her in the least to think that Sarah was a very +naughty girl and in a fair way of going to utter destruction. She +loved her father as well as she was capable of loving anybody, but +the most disgraceful failure on his part would have affected her less +unpleasantly than his refusal to pay fifty dollars for some dress or +trinket on which she had set her heart. In fact, self was her idol, +her god. Whoever sacrificed to that god was right in her eyes; whoever +treated her deity with neglect or disrespect was wrong, no matter how +good he might otherwise be.</p> + +<p>It was very different with Sarah Leyman. Utterly wild and untaught as +she was and had been ever since she was eight years old, the poor child +had a heart capable of devoted attachment and of great sacrifices. +Till she was eight years old, Aunt Sally had been her all—her friend, +teacher, protector, and playmate, all in one. Mrs. Leyman often said +before her sister and daughter that Sarah took after her aunt a great +deal more than she did after her mother, and predicted that she should +turn out just such another saint—saint being a term of the deepest +reproach in the vocabulary of people like Mrs. Leyman.</p> + +<p>Everything that Sarah knew she learned from Aunt Sally, who taught +her to say her prayers and read her Bible, and to know that she had a +Father in heaven who would always love her and take care of her. But +Aunt Sally died at thirty, because she hadn't any ambition according to +her sister-in-law—in reality, of hard work and anxiety and grief and +shame. Poor Sarah was left without a friend. Two or three people would +have taken her for her aunt's sake, Mrs. Lilly among the rest, but her +father would not hear of binding her out, and nobody wanted to be at +the trouble of dressing and teaching and becoming attached to her, only +to have her taken away as soon as she was old enough to become useful. +Moreover, Mr. Leyman made it a condition that Sarah should not go to +church or Sunday-school or be "taught any priestcraft and superstition."</p> + +<p>So Sarah grew up with no education except what she picked up herself +by reading such books as fell in her way and by going for a few weeks +at a time to the district school. Here she learned to write and cipher +a little. Aunt Sally had taught her to read almost before she could +remember, and she heard the Bible read and read it in turn with the +other children, and now and then an earnest teacher would try to put +into the child's mind some sense of the truths of religion, so that she +was not absolutely ignorant on that subject.</p> + +<p>But during the last year, she had lost that small chance. The three +or four small district schools in and around the village had been +consolidated into one grand union school, attended by all the young +ladies of the village, and Sarah was too proud to show herself among +those who were so much better dressed and educated than herself.</p> + +<p>Sarah's father was what he called a freethinker, which in his case +meant nothing more nor less than an impudent, reckless creature, +regarding the laws neither of God nor man. He made a regular business +of ostentatiously breaking the Sabbath, and as far as possible, he +brought up his children in the same way. The training had produced its +legitimate fruits. One son was already in the penitentiary, and the +other had escaped a like fate only by running away and going to sea.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Leyman was pretty much what Mrs. Lilly had described her. She had +come of a decent family, and there were those who were willing to show +her kindness for the sake of her father and mother. But Mrs. Leyman +was one of those people who take two or three miles for every ell that +is given them. If she had an invitation to any house in the village +or at the Corners—the little hamlet which had grown up at the slate +quarry—she made such an invitation a pretext for a dozen visits at +least. If anybody gave her a pail of skim milk or buttermilk one day, +she would send the next for a piece of cheese or butter, or to borrow a +washboard or flat-iron; and those who were weak enough to lend to her +seldom saw their property again.</p> + +<p>Her chief pleasures in life were strong green tea and scandal. A small +property which still remained to her from her father's estate supplied +her with means for purchasing the first. For the second she was chiefly +indebted to Miss Clarke, the washerwoman and tailoress employed in +good families for her abilities in doing up fine muslins and making +children's clothes. Miss Clarke was an inveterate collector of news +and scandal, and the worse a story was, the better it pleased her. She +was, to put it in plain English, an inveterate and malicious liar, +and she improved her natural gifts in that direction by taking opium. +Such was Mrs. Leyman's chosen friend, and from her did she obtain all +those stories of the secret sins and shortcomings of church-members and +respectable people with which she entertained her husband.</p> + +<p>Sarah listened to her mother's tales because she liked anything in the +shape of a story, and because, being sensible of the degradation of her +own family, she took a sullen satisfaction in thinking that others were +no better. But she despised her mother and almost hated her father, +and she would have run away from home long before now, only for Ally, +her poor little sickly sister. It was Ally who kept Sarah at home for +the few hours that she ever spent there from the beginning to the end +of warm weather. For her sake, Sarah recalled all she could of Aunt +Sally's hymns and verses, her Bible, and other stories. For Ally she +learned Sunday-school hymns and borrowed Sunday-school books from the +other children, and gathered flowers and berries and everything that +could comfort and amuse the child in her sick times.</p> + +<p>It was Mrs. Lilly's kindness to Ally which had made Sarah like her +in the first place. Poor Sarah was a very naughty girl—there was +unfortunately no doubt of that—but she would have been a great deal +worse only for Ally, and for the half-remembered lessons learned +at Aunt Sally's knee. But for these things and for an undefined +something—she could hardly tell what—which had lately been creeping +over her, and making her feel a kind of hope that she might some time +become better and happier, she would have run away and left the family +to its fate.</p> + +<p>What Sarah found to love in Fanny it would, perhaps, be hard to say, +but she did love her, and would have done anything for her. Fanny +was very pretty, for one thing. She had nice manners and a pleasant +way of speaking when she was pleased, and she could tell tales of a +world of which Sarah knew nothing, and which she fancied must be more +wonderful and beautiful than her own. Sarah soon found out that Fanny +was shallow, and she had begun to feel, rather than suspect, that she +was false: but she was one of those people who, having loved once, love +always, and she was still devoted to Fanny with her whole heart and +soul.</p> + +<p>Sarah could hardly have told what led her to go to the meeting +on Sunday evening. She had never attended before, though all the +neighbours went, especially Mrs. Lilly, and she had a feeling that +everything Mrs. Lilly did must be good. She had been quite serious +in what she had said to Fanny after the adventure of the bull. She +did want to be a good girl, a true Christian like Mrs. Lilly and Aunt +Sally, but she did not know how to begin. Perhaps she might find out +at the meeting. So she made up her mind to go and try, and she found +out that, at any rate, it was very pleasant, though rather awful. Those +things which she had mimicked for Fanny's amusement—Deacon Crane's +broad accent and Mr. Howe's bad grammar—did not now strike her as so +absurd because she felt as she never had done, that both the deacon +and Mr. Howe were talking to some very real Presence: not the less +real because unseen. The singing, the Bible reading, the speaking, +all touched her heart, and the kindness with which she was met by +everybody, especially Mrs. Lilly, increased the charm.</p> + +<p>They had all seemed so glad to see her there, and had asked her to come +again. Sarah made up her mind that she would go again, that she would +somehow have a Bible and read it and teach Ally to read it, and she +would try her best to be a good Christian girl. And then to find out +that these people who had seemed so glad to see her were laughing at +her and plotting to separate her from Ally and put her in prison, to +find out that Mrs. Lilly was capable of such treachery—Mrs. Lilly, whom +she had always considered as the very model of everything good,—this it +was, and no hurt vanity, which had caused the violent burst of feeling +which Fanny could not understand. This it was which made her feel as if +there were no real truth or goodness anywhere, and no use in trying to +do right, since religious people were, after all, no better than any +one else. This was the mischief Fanny had done, and at which she might +well have stood appalled if she had at all understood it.</p> + +<p>But she did not. She was sorry to have made Sarah feel so badly, but +she was glad to have prevented any chance of an explanation between +Sarah and her grandmother. To be sure, this was not much like the +missionary work over which she had been dreaming lately, and which was +one day to make her famous and admired. But perhaps Sarah might not +have been good, anyway, or perhaps she would become a Christian, after +all. And, anyhow, she could not help it now, so there was no use in +thinking about it any more.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image003" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image003.jpg" alt="image003"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b><em>On the Mountain.</em></b><br> +<br> +<b>"Here is a nicer cup than that."</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>This was always Fanny's way of consoling herself and quieting her +conscience when it happened to be disturbed: "I can't help it now, so +there is no use in worrying myself about it."</p> + +<p>She jumped up and dressed herself as nicely as possible, and ran down +stairs to help her grandmother with the milk without stopping to say +her prayers, as she had been very careful to do lately.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cassell had promised to come early, and by ten o'clock the +carriage was seen by Fanny's eager eyes coming slowly up the long +ascent. Mrs. Lilly's farm lay mostly on the first rise of the mountain, +as it was called, a kind of broad terrace ascending from the river, +which ran through the valley, to a nearly level plain of some quarter +of a mile in extent. Besides this, Mrs. Lilly owned a broad strip of +meadow-land along the river, and a large extent of pasture and forests +extending to the "No man's land" and cloudland on the top of the great +mountain which overlooked Hillsborough.</p> + +<p>To Annie, coming from Detroit, where the land is literally as flat as +a pancake and the river looks as if it had been spilled on the top +of the ground, this country of mountains and swift-running streams, +"of fountains and depths that spring out of valleys and hills," was +a land of enchantment. It was as beautiful as fairyland the little +girl thought, but, like fairyland, it was also rather alarming in +respect that one never knew exactly what might be coming next. She had +received the announcement that they were going to make a visit up on +the mountain with some inward misgivings. And when she found herself +going up and up without seeming ever to come to the end, she began to +wish herself at home. But when she finally arrived and was met by Mrs. +Lilly's cordial welcome, all her fears vanished, and she was quite +ready to respond to the old lady's kindness, and to enjoy herself +thoroughly.</p> + +<p>"And where is Hugh?" asked Mrs. Lilly. "I hope he is not going to +disappoint us."</p> + +<p>"Hugh will come up this afternoon," said Mrs. Brandon. "He was all +ready this morning, and indeed came with us as far as the post-office, +when he found a bundle of proof-sheets lying in wait for him, so he had +to return and devote himself to them. He will ride up this afternoon as +soon as he finishes his work. But proof-sheets are like time and tide: +they wait for no man."</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose not," said Mrs. Lilly. "Well, I am sorry, but it is not +as if this was the only day there was, so you needn't look so doleful, +Willy. But come, you had better get your things off. You know the way +up stairs, Emma."</p> + +<p>As soon as Annie had disposed of the piece of cake which Mrs. Lilly was +sure she must need after her ride, Fanny took possession of her. She +was fond of children in her selfish way—that is, she liked to play with +them as if they were dolls, and amuse herself with them as long as they +were "good,"—that is, just so long as they did exactly what she wished.</p> + +<p>Annie would have been quite contented to look out of the windows and +amuse herself with the Indian curiosities, of which Mrs. Lilly had a +great collection, but it was one of Fanny's ways that she never could +enjoy herself in the presence of grown people. She could not be easy +till she had drawn Annie out of the parlour and carried her off to her +own room, where she got out her doll to amuse her visitor. They played +with it for some time, and then Fanny proposed that they should go out.</p> + +<p>"Can we go and see the raccoon?" said Annie. "Uncle Hugh said Willy had +a tame raccoon."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you shall see everything, and I will take you to the +prettiest place you ever saw," replied Fanny, who felt very amiable +and patronizing. "I will show you the spring up in the woods, and +everything."</p> + +<p>"That will be nice," said Annie, "but we must ask grandma first."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Fanny; "I will go and ask her now while you dress the +doll."</p> + +<p>"Take Annie up to the spring?" repeated Mrs. Lilly, aloud, after Fanny +had whispered in her ear. "Why, yes, I suppose so, if Mrs. Cassell has +no objection."</p> + +<p>"Where is the spring?" asked Mrs. Cassell.</p> + +<p>"Only a little way off—just upon the side of the hill. You can almost +see it from this window. It is a very pretty place, and there is no +danger for them to run into. Fanny spends half her time there, I think. +But, Fanny, remember, you must not go into the woods."</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," answered Fanny.</p> + +<p>"And don't leave Annie alone anywhere," said Mrs. Cassell. "Remember +she has always been brought up in the city, and knows nothing about +taking care of herself. Promise me that you will keep close by her."</p> + +<p>"I will," answered Fanny. "I will not leave her alone a minute. Please +let Willy ring the bell in the garden, grandma, when you want us to +come in."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Mrs. Lilly; "we shall not have dinner till two, so +you will have a nice time to play and enjoy yourselves."</p> + +<p>Fanny put on Annie's hat and jacket, and then led her out to see the +raccoon and the guinea hens. As they were looking at the former, Willy +came up.</p> + +<p>"Now, Willy, you may just go away," said Fanny, sharply. "We don't want +you around after us."</p> + +<p>Annie looked surprised. She was not used to hear people spoken to in +that way.</p> + +<p>"It is my raccoon, and I suppose I have a right to look at it," +returned Willy.</p> + +<p>"Are you Willy Beaubien?" asked Annie.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Willy, rather shyly, but added, presently, "I have seen +you at Sunday-school. Don't you want to see Cooney eat? He looks real +cunning."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," exclaimed Annie, much interested. "What does he eat?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, anything that he can get. I will run and ask Oney for some cake +for him."</p> + +<p>"Come, Annie, let's run away while he is gone," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to," answered Annie; "I want to see the raccoon eat."</p> + +<p>Fanny was tempted to speak sharply, but recollecting herself, she said, +"I shouldn't think you would care about that. Come, we sha'n't have any +time at all."</p> + +<p>But Annie had a little will of her own as well as Fanny, and she would +not stir till Willy came back with the cake, and till she had seen the +raccoon eat, and had agreed with Willy that he was very cunning and +looked as if he knew everything.</p> + +<p>"Just as if he knew what we were talking about!" said Annie. "I guess +you like animals very well, don't you, Willy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Willy. "I was going to ask you whether you would let me +see your Guinea pigs, some time."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, and give you a pair, if you like," replied Annie, +smiling; "I am sure you would be good to them."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe grandma will let him have them," said Fanny, growing +cross, as usual, as soon as she was not the chief object of attention. +"She says Willy has so many playthings now that he doesn't attend to +his work."</p> + +<p>"I guess you stretched that a little," said Willy. "Anyhow, I can ask +her."</p> + +<p>"Well, do come, Annie, if you are ever coming," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>The truth was, she was growing uneasy. She had seen Sarah going up to +the spring some time before, and was afraid of her losing patience and +putting into execution her threat of coming down to the house.</p> + +<p>Annie saw that for some reason Fanny was really annoyed, and she at +once gave up looking at the guinea hens and followed her conductor +through the garden and across the fields.</p> + +<p>"See, here is the spring," said Fanny, when they reached the little +mossy dell so often spoken of. "See how it comes running out of the +mountain-side. Isn't it pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Beautiful!" said Annie. "How clear and cool it is! Is it good to +drink?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, very. There is a cup here somewhere. Oh, here it is." And Fanny +produced a somewhat rusty tin cup from under a stone, rinsed it, and +filled it from the spring for Annie to drink.</p> + +<p>"Here is a nicer cup than that," said Sarah Leyman, coming out from +among the bushes, holding in her hand a large scallop shell, such as is +frequently brought from Florida and Key West by travellers. "I found +it this morning among some things in our garret, and brought it up on +purpose for Annie to drink out of."</p> + +<p>"Did you?" asked Annie, looking wonderingly at the dark, handsome girl. +"That was very good of you. But how did you know that I was coming up +here to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a little bird told me," answered Sarah, playfully. "The little +bird told me that a fairy was coming up to visit the spring, and would +want something pretty to drink out of. Here, drink, little fairy."</p> + +<p>"Oh how nice!" said Annie, after she had drank from the shell, which +Sarah held to her lips. "I don't think I ever tasted such good water."</p> + +<p>"More people than you have thought so," said Sarah. "I was reading a +letter last night that your aunt wrote to my aunt from India, in which +she said she would give all the fruit in India for one drink from this +very spring."</p> + +<p>"Was that my aunt Eugenia, and did she write to your aunt?" asked +Annie, very much interested. "How nice that is! I should think that +ought to make us some sort of cousins, shouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Very distant cousins," answered Sarah, laughing. "Your name 'is' +Annie, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—Annie Eugenia Mercer. I was named for my aunt and grandmother."</p> + +<p>"And where do you live when you are at home, Annie Eugenia?"</p> + +<p>"In Detroit," replied Annie.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is a great way off?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; we were a night and two days coming, and we stopped one night +at Albany. And oh, Fanny," exclaimed Annie, "you know I told you how +that girl stole my doll on the cars?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Fanny. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you think, day before yesterday, Uncle Hugh came up from the +cars, and brought a great parcel directed to me. And when I opened it, +there was a beautiful doll all dressed, and a letter from this very +girl telling me she was sorry she had been so wicked, and she hoped I +would forgive her, and that my doll was spoiled, but she had sent me +another. Wasn't that nice?"</p> + +<p>"Very nice," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"I didn't care so very much about the doll; though, after all, one +can't have too many dolls," said Annie, sagely. "But it was nice to +think she should be sorry and want to make up for what she had done. +Grandma said it was beginning in the right way if Celia—the girl's name +was Celia—really meant to be a good girl."</p> + +<p>"What was beginning right?" asked Sarah—"Sending back the doll or +saying she was sorry?"</p> + +<p>"Both," replied Annie. "Grandma said—I am not sure that I can tell it +just right—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Sarah, who seemed very much interested. "Tell it as +well as you can."</p> + +<p>"She said we must confess all our sins to God if we want them forgiven; +and if they are against our neighbours—that is, if they have done harm +to anybody, you know—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Sarah, "I understand."</p> + +<p>"Then we must go to them and try to make up, and if we have done them +any damage, we must make it good. I didn't quite understand that at +first, and grandma said if I had borrowed Mary Patterson's scissors, +and lost or spoiled them, it wouldn't be enough to say I was sorry; I +must buy her a new pair if I possibly could. So she said it was right +in Celia to send me a new doll."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Sarah. "Don't you think you are a happy little girl to +have such a good grandma?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed!" said Annie, with emphasis. "Mary Patterson says I ought +to be thankful every day that I have such good friends to take care of +me."</p> + +<p>"Who is Mary Patterson?" asked Fanny. She was not very easy under this +conversation, and she was, moreover, in a great hurry to improve the +time in finding out all about Annie's family history.</p> + +<p>"Mary is my nurse," replied Annie. "She has lived at our house ever +since I can remember, and we think everything of her."</p> + +<p>"How many servants does your mother keep?" was Fanny's next question.</p> + +<p>"Oh, let me see: there is Mary Patterson and old Mary the cook—only we +don't call her 'old' Mary because mamma says it isn't polite, so we all +call her Willis—and Jane the chambermaid, and Arthur, papa's servant, +that was with him in the war, and John the coachman."</p> + +<p>"Your father must be very rich to keep so many servants."</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose he is," replied Annie, simply. "I heard Uncle Harris +say that papa was worth almost a million of dollars. That is a great +deal, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, quite a good deal," said Sarah, laughing.</p> + +<p>"My father is worth two millions," said Fanny, "and there are people +on our street richer than that. But I didn't suppose anybody out West +was as well off as that. I thought only poor people went West, and that +they lived in log houses and never had anything nice."</p> + +<p>"I don't think there are any log houses in Detroit, though I have seen +them in the country," said Annie. "Detroit is a very pretty place, +though not as nice as it is here, because it is all so flat. There +isn't the least little bit of a hill anywhere round. If that hill Mr. +Willson lives on were in Detroit, they would think it was a mountain."</p> + +<p>"And what would they say to such a mountain as this?" asked Sarah.</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I suppose they would be afraid of it, as I was when I +first came here," said Annie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you needn't be afraid; he is a pretty good old mountain," said +Sarah, who seemed very much taken with the pretty little child. "See +what the mountain sent you by me." And going to a ledge of rock close +by a kind of natural shelf, she produced two of her pretty little +baskets, one filled with red raspberries, the other with blueberries.</p> + +<p>"Oh how pretty!" exclaimed Annie. "Did the mountain send them to me? I +am sure he was very kind."</p> + +<p>"Yes; he told me to tell you that you were welcome to eat his berries +and drink out of his spring, but you must never climb up on his back, +because that is no place for little girls."</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't. Tell him so, with my love. I should like to do +something for him. I might work him a slipper—you know they talk of the +foot of a mountain sometimes—only I shouldn't know where to get a piece +of canvas big enough."</p> + +<p>"How silly you are!" aid Fanny, who never could understand a joke. "The +mountain isn't alive. It is only a great heap of rocks and dirt."</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Annie. "I was only making believe."</p> + +<p>Annie ate her berries, and then began admiring the mosses which grew +all about the spring.</p> + +<p>"I know where there are much prettier mosses than these," said Sarah, +"but the place is too far for you to walk. Don't you want to sit here a +few minutes while Fanny and I go and get you some snail shells?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Annie, rather doubtfully. "If you won't be gone +long."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, only a few minutes. You just sit still here or play about on +the rocks, but don't go away from the spring, whatever you do. Come, +Fanny, I want to speak to you. I have something to tell you and to ask +you."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about leaving Annie. I am afraid she will get into some +mischief or other," said Fanny, hesitating a little, though she was +very anxious to hear what Sarah had to tell. She had seen all the +morning, through all Sarah's playfulness with Annie, that she had +something more than usual on her mind, and she was very desirous of +finding out what it was.</p> + +<p>"I don't see what mischief she can get into," said Sarah, looking about +her and considering. "There are no snakes. The wicked old bull is shut +up in his stable, and the cattle are all away at the farther pasture. +Even if she should take a notion to run home, she can't miss her way. +You are not afraid to stay here a few minutes, are you, Annie?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Annie—"only don't be long."</p> + +<p>"Oh no; we will be back in a very few minutes."</p> + +<p>"And you will bring me some snail shells, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if I can find them, and I am pretty sure I can. After all, Fanny, +perhaps we had better not leave her alone. She is such a little thing +she might get scared, and I can tell you some other day."</p> + +<p>Fanny thought she saw in these last words an indication that Sarah had +repented and did not mean to tell her what she had on her mind, and +this made her all the more anxious to find out what it was. So she +answered, decidedly,—</p> + +<p>"Yes, I shall go, too. Mind, Annie, that you don't stir away from this +place or you will get lost."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>To do Sarah justice, she had not the least idea that in leaving Annie +alone at the spring she was exposing her to any danger. The children +she was acquainted with played in the woods all day long and made +excursions after berries and flowers without any fear. She knew that +there were no snakes and no wild animals bigger than a rabbit to be met +with at this time of year, and she had really taken pains to assure +herself that the bull was safely shut up in his stable. She wanted very +much to speak to Fanny, and she did not see that she was likely to have +another chance very soon.</p> + +<p>Fanny was much more to blame than Sarah, for she had promised +faithfully not to leave Annie alone for ever so short a time, and she +ought to have kept her word. She knew this very well, but she said to +herself that no harm would come to her, and that she must hear what +Sarah had to say.</p> + +<p>Sarah led the way in silence a short distance up the mountain, and then +turned aside into the woods.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Fanny, as Sarah stopped and began gathering some +wintergreen shoots. "Well?" she repeated, impatiently, as Sarah did not +speak. "What do you want to say to me?"</p> + +<p>"Fanny," said Sarah, "I want you to do me a very great favour."</p> + +<p>"Well, what?"</p> + +<p>"You told me you had a good deal of money of your own."</p> + +<p>"Yes; my father gave me twenty dollars, and I have only spent a little +of it. Why?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to lend me ten dollars," said Sarah. "There! The murder is +out."</p> + +<p>Fanny looked very much taken aback. "Why do you want ten dollars?" she +asked, with a good deal of suspicion in her tone.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you all about it if you will listen," said Sarah. "Sit +down here on this log."</p> + +<p>The two girls sat down side by side, and Sarah went on in rather a low +tone:</p> + +<p>"After I left you yesterday, I went up in our garret and pulled out all +Aunt Sally's old letters to read. There were a good many from Annie's +aunt Eugenia in India, and from Mary Jane Merrill and other people. But +at last I found the letters I wanted. They were from my Aunt Caroline, +my mother's sister, over in Concord. She used to be a schoolteacher, +but I knew she had married since, and I wanted to know what sort of +woman she was. The letters were very nice indeed, and sounded a good +deal like Aunt Sally herself. Then I asked ma about Aunt Caroline, and +ma said she had married a rich man and felt above all her relations. +But I kept on asking questions till I found out that Aunt Caroline had +lost all her own children, and that she had wanted to adopt me or Ally +when we were little, but father would not let either of us go. I made +ma show me the last letter she had from Aunt Caroline, and it was a +real good letter, and I made out that she had always helped ma a great +deal."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Fanny, impatiently, "what has that to do with my lending +you ten dollars?"</p> + +<p>"Just this," replied Sarah: "I have been thinking the matter over, and +I have made up my mind what to do. If you will lend me ten dollars, I +will go and see Aunt Caroline myself, and try to persuade her to take +Ally to live with her. I don't think pa would care now. He don't like +Ally because she is so plain and sickly. Then, if I succeed, I will get +a place to work in a mill or somewhere, and take care of myself."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you write to your aunt?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Because I can't write very well, and I want to see Aunt Caroline and +talk to her myself. If I have ten dollars, I can get myself a decent +frock and hat, so that she need not be ashamed of me, and the rest of +the money will pay my fare to Concord and back."</p> + +<p>"If your aunt is rich, I should think she would lend you the money," +said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to begin by asking her for money for myself," said Sarah, +colouring. "She doesn't know anything about me. But if you will lend it +to me, I will pay you back the very first money I earn."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course," said Fanny, sarcastically.</p> + +<p>Sarah's eyes flashed. "Don't you believe me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Fanny was rather alarmed, and continued, in a superior but more +friendly tone, "I suppose you think you would, but this is all +nonsense, Sarah. It is the greatest wild-goose chase I ever heard of. +Suppose you go to Concord, what good will it do? Your aunt won't do +anything for you. As likely as not, she won't let you come into her +house. And as for her adopting Ally, you might as well expect her to +adopt a black baby. I know, because my mother is one of the managers of +the orphan asylum, and I have heard her say that the people who take +children always want a healthy, pretty child with curly hair."</p> + +<p>"And what becomes of all the ugly, straight-haired children?" asked +Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. They get bound out, or something. Anyhow, nobody +wants them, and I am sure your aunt wouldn't want Ally. You see it is +all nonsense, Sarah. You couldn't do anything if you tried."</p> + +<p>"Then you won't lend me the money, Fanny?" said Sarah, in a tone of +deep mortification and disappointment.</p> + +<p>"No, because I don't think there would be any use in it. You had a +great deal better stay where you are, or else write a letter to your +aunt and ask her to send you some money."</p> + +<p>"I can't write, I tell you," said Sarah, flushing crimson. "I can't +put one sentence together and spell the words right." She paused a +moment, and then spoke again with more earnestness than before, and in +a pleading tone very different from her usual off-hand manner:</p> + +<p>"Come, Fanny, do lend me this money. It won't be very much to you even +if you have to do without it a year, and it will be everything to me. +I can't leave home while Ally is there, whatever happens, and I feel +almost sure that Aunt Caroline will take the child if I can only see +her and tell her how things are, which I couldn't do in a letter if +I could write ever so well. If Ally is only safe, I know I can find +some place where I can earn money. I can learn any kind of work easily +enough if I only give my mind to it, and I will send you every dollar I +earn. Come, Fanny, don't say 'No.' Why won't you lend it to me?"</p> + +<p>"Because I want it myself," said Fanny, coming to the true reason at +last. "I have only that twenty dollars to last me for pocket-money till +my father comes home, and I am always wanting candy or something that +grandma won't buy for me. As likely as not you never would pay me, and +then I should lose it altogether."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think I am honest, Fanny? I risked more than that for you +the day we met the bull," said Sarah, with a quiver in her voice. "I +didn't stop to think whether you would ever pay me."</p> + +<p>"That is different," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is a good deal of difference between risking your life and +risking ten dollars," said Sarah, dryly. "Fanny, why did you ever make +friends with me if you don't care enough for me to do as much as that +for me?"</p> + +<p>"Because I had no one else to play with, and it was so stupid at +grandma's with nobody to speak to," said Fanny, speaking the truth for +once.</p> + +<p>"Then, if you had any one else to play with—anybody more genteel—you +wouldn't care any more about me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no, I don't know that I should. You see, Sarah, you are very +different from me."</p> + +<p>"Very different," said Sarah, rising—"so different that the less we +have to do with each other, the better."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, she went a little farther into the wood and began to turn +over the fallen sticks and leaves.</p> + +<p>Fanny followed her, feeling rather uneasy.</p> + +<p>"What are you looking for?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Some shells for Annie," answered Sarah, without looking up. "You had +better go to her. She may get tired of staying alone."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to go without you," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>Sarah did not reply; but having found what she sought, she turned back.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are very angry with me?" said Fanny, presently.</p> + +<p>"No, I am not," returned Sarah. "I am angry at myself for ever having +cared for you."</p> + +<p>"You say so because you are vexed at not getting the money," said +Fanny, "but I think you are very unreasonable."</p> + +<p>"If you say another word, I will box your ears," said Sarah. In another +moment she added, more gently, "I am sorry I said that. I shall never +see you again, and I did love you dearly, Fanny."</p> + +<p>The tone in which Sarah said this showed that she at least was not +heartless.</p> + +<p>"What makes you say that?" asked Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Because it is true. I shall go to Aunt Caroline's, if I have to walk +every step. Besides, I never want to see you again—never!"</p> + +<p>As Sarah said these words, the two girls came in sight of the spring. +Annie was not there.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>THE LOST CHILD.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"THERE, now! See what a scrape you have got me into!" said Fanny, +angrily. "Tiresome little thing! She has run off home; and now she will +tell them that I left her alone."</p> + +<p>"Well, what of that?" returned Sarah. "What harm was there in your +leaving her alone a few minutes in a safe place?"</p> + +<p>"Because I promised I wouldn't, stupid! That's why."</p> + +<p>"Did you really promise not to leave her alone?" asked Sarah, gravely.</p> + +<p>"Of course I did. Her grandmother wouldn't let her come unless I +promised not to leave her alone anywhere. A nice scrape you have got me +into with your secrets!"</p> + +<p>"You never told me you had promised, so don't lay all the blame on me," +said Sarah. "Besides, I wanted to come back and wait till another time, +and you wouldn't. I don't suppose there is any harm done. She has got +tired and run back to the house. Fanny," said Sarah, suddenly starting +and turning pale, "you don't suppose she has started to find us, do +you?"</p> + +<p>"No, of course not," returned Fanny, impatiently. "What do you want to +put such a notion into one's head for?"</p> + +<p>"I never thought of her doing such a thing," continued Sarah, looking +very uneasy. "I should never forgive myself in the world if any harm +should happen to the dear little thing. Do run down to the house and +make sure that she is safe."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, that is all you think about," said Fanny, in an injured tone. +"You don't care anything about what they will say to me, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Well, no, not much," returned Sarah. "Why should I? I don't suppose +they will break any of your bones, and you haven't shown any very +particular regard to my feelings. But why don't you go?"</p> + +<p>"Of course—" Fanny began, but Sarah interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"Now, just look here, Fanny, if you don't go, I shall go myself. I +suppose, of course, that Annie is safe, but I want to know for certain. +I can't bear to think of her wandering in the woods half scared to +death, and perhaps falling into Pope's hole."</p> + +<p>"For goodness' sake, what is Pope's hole?" asked Fanny. "I have heard +of it ever since I came here, and I don't know what any one means by +it."</p> + +<p>"It is a deep, deep gulley—a hole in the mountain nobody knows how +deep—with high steep walls of rock all around it, and it is half +full of water, and under the water is soft black mud. Cattle get in +sometimes, and never get out again. A man named Pope fell in when the +country was new, and for two or three years nobody knew what had become +of him. But one very dry summer, when the water was low, somebody saw +a gun lying partly out of the water. So he got somebody to let him +down with ropes, and then he found Pope's gun and his watch, but they +never found the body. It is an awful dark place to look into. But come, +Fanny, do run home. Wave your handkerchief at the back door, and then I +shall know if she is safe."</p> + +<p>Seeing that there was no help for it, Fanny obeyed. She did not or +would not believe that Annie was lost, and she dreaded only the reproof +she was sure to receive for leaving the child alone at the spring. She +reached the house without seeing anybody, and went straight up to her +own room, turning, however, at the door to wave her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>Sarah saw the signal, and satisfied that the child was safe, she went +back to the spruce wood, and sat down to consider what she should do +next.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"It is time the children were at home," said Mrs. Lilly, presently. +"Oney, you may tell Willy to ring the bell in the garden."</p> + +<p>Oney called Willy, and then went up stairs for a clean apron. As she +did so she bethought herself to look into Fanny's room and see whether +there was a supply of water and clean towels. To her great surprise, +she found Fanny sitting by the window reading.</p> + +<p>"Why, Fanny!" she exclaimed, in surprise. "I thought you were up at the +spring with Annie. Where is she?"</p> + +<p>"Down stairs in the parlour, of course," said Fanny, vainly trying to +speak in an ordinary tone. "I wish you would not come into my room +without knocking, Oney."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you were at home," replied Oney. "But are you sure Annie +is down stairs? I haven't seen her."</p> + +<p>"Of course she is. Do go away and let me alone, can't you?"</p> + +<p>Oney began at once to suspect that something was wrong. She had no +confidence in Fanny, and she had seen nothing of little Annie. She went +directly down stairs and opened the parlour door.</p> + +<p>"Well, Oney, have you come to tell us that dinner is ready?" asked Mrs. +Lilly.</p> + +<p>"Dinner is pretty nearly ready," replied Oney. "Is Annie here?"</p> + +<p>"Annie? No," answered Mrs. Cassell, starting. "Have the children come +in? I have not seen them."</p> + +<p>"Fanny is up in her room, and she just now told me that Annie was down +here," said Oney.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cassell turned pale. She was rather a nervous woman, and she +naturally felt a great deal of responsibility about Annie.</p> + +<p>"Don't be frightened," said Mrs. Lilly. "I dare say she is out with +Willy looking at the chickens." As she spoke, she went to the foot of +the stairs and called, "Fanny, come down directly."</p> + +<p>"I have got my shoes and stockings off, grandma," answered Fanny, who +had indeed stripped them off with all speed the moment Oney had left +the room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly went up stairs.</p> + +<p>"Why are you barefooted?" was her first question.</p> + +<p>"I wet my feet, and had to change my shoes and stockings," answered +Fanny, searching in her drawer for a pair of stockings, and taking a +long time to find them.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly's quick eye fell on the boots which Fanny had just taken off.</p> + +<p>"Your shoes are as dry as a bone," said she, taking one of them in her +hand. "But never mind that now. Where is Annie?"</p> + +<p>"Down stairs, I suppose," answered Fanny, shortly.</p> + +<p>"Where did you leave her?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't leave her at all. She ran away from me and came home," said +Fanny. "Cross, hateful little thing! I wish she had never come here."</p> + +<p>"Put on your shoes and stockings and come down stairs," said Mrs. +Lilly. "Don't spend time looking in the drawer. Put on those you took +off."</p> + +<p>There was that in Mrs. Lilly's voice and manner which made Fanny afraid +to trifle any longer. She put on her shoes and stockings, and followed +down stairs sulkily enough.</p> + +<p>"Now," said she, "tell us just where you left Annie."</p> + +<p>Short as the time was in which to do it, Fanny had made up her story, +and she told it glibly enough:</p> + +<p>"I was cutting some birch bark for Annie, and I dropped my knife, and +while I was looking for it, Annie said she did not like the woods and +she would go back to the house. I told her to wait a minute and I would +go with her, but she began to cry and scream and say she would go +alone. Then I went with her to the garden and watched her almost into +the house, and then I went back to find my knife."</p> + +<p>"That does not sound at all like Annie," said Mrs. Brandon. "She is not +apt to cry because she cannot have her own way."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about that," said Fanny, pertly. "I know she +screamed loud enough this morning. I should have come all the way with +her, only I wanted to find my knife, and I didn't see what harm could +happen to her between the garden fence and the house."</p> + +<p>"Where can she be?" said Mrs. Cassell.</p> + +<p>"She may have gone away with Willy," replied Mrs. Lilly. "He is very +fond of children, and very likely he has taken her off to see some +wonderful sights in the barn."</p> + +<p>"Willy is up in his room," said Oney. "I will call him."</p> + +<p>But Willy could give no account of Annie. He had not seen her since +they were feeding the raccoon.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do?" said Mrs. Cassell. "Where can the child have gone? +Is there any well or cistern that she can fall into?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no. I never allow such things to be left uncovered. Fanny, are you +telling the truth? Did you really come with Annie as far as the garden +fence?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did," answered Fanny, positively. "I stood at the fence and +watched her clear to the back door."</p> + +<p>"Were you and Annie alone at the spring, or did you have company?" +asked Willy.</p> + +<p>Fanny made a face, and did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you answer Willy's question?" asked Mrs. Lilly. "Was Sarah +Leyman with you? I presume it was Sarah that Willy meant."</p> + +<p>"No," answered Fanny, boldly. "Sarah is very angry with me, and won't +speak to me because I would not give her some money. She said, the last +time I saw her, that she never meant to speak to me again."</p> + +<p>"But where can Annie be?" asked Willy. "I will go out and look round +the yard. Maybe she has gone to see the coon again."</p> + +<p>But in vain did they search the garden and yard; no Annie was to be +found. By this time the alarm grew very serious, and in the midst of +it, Mr. Brandon made his appearance.</p> + +<p>"You see I did come, after all," said he, gayly, as he entered the +parlour. "I found my proofs could wait a day, so I put them in my +pocket and came along. But what is the matter?" he asked, in alarm, for +Mrs. Brandon burst into tears on seeing him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hugh, Annie is lost!" exclaimed his wife and mother together.</p> + +<p>"Lost!" exclaimed Mr. Brandon. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly told the story as she had heard it from Fanny, adding that +they had searched the farm over, and that both Oney and Willy were +still looking. Mr. Brandon stood thinking for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Come here, Fanny," said he, sitting down and drawing her toward him. +"Come here; I want to talk to you. Now, don't cry, but tell me the +plain truth. How far did you go with Annie?"</p> + +<p>"To the garden fence," replied Fanny.</p> + +<p>"The back garden fence?"</p> + +<p>Fanny assented.</p> + +<p>"How did Annie get over the fence?"</p> + +<p>"I let down the bars."</p> + +<p>"How could you do that when there are none?" asked Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean that. I took down two or three rails and put them up +again."</p> + +<p>"Well, what then?"</p> + +<p>"Then I stood and watched her into the house, and then I went back to +find my knife."</p> + +<p>"Why did Annie want to come into the house?" was the next question.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I suppose she was afraid to stay alone." This was an +unlucky slip.</p> + +<p>"To stay alone!" repeated Mr. Brandon. "To stay alone where?"</p> + +<p>"She was not really alone," said Fanny, seeing what a blunder she had +made; "only she was down by the spring and I was up on the bank cutting +the birch bark for her to play with."</p> + +<p>"You are sure you did not go out of sight?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Fanny, snappishly. "I have said so ten times already."</p> + +<p>"You did not leave her to go away for anything but the bark?"</p> + +<p>"Only for the shells, and we were not gone five minutes, I am sure," +said Fanny, making another slip.</p> + +<p>"'We'! Who was with you besides Annie?"</p> + +<p>"I just wish you would let me alone," cried Fanny, bursting into a +violent fit of crying. "You confuse me so I don't know what I am about."</p> + +<p>"But who do you mean by 'we'?" persisted Mr. Brandon. "Who was with you +besides Annie?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody; and I wish she had not been there, either, the cross, hateful +little thing! I won't stay here another day," continued Fanny, working +herself into a passion. "I will go to Boston if I have to live in the +poorhouse. I won't stay here to be called a liar."</p> + +<p>"Nobody has called you a liar, but I very much fear that you are one," +said Mr. Brandon, gravely. "Mrs. Lilly, I am sorry to say so, but this +girl is not speaking the truth. I believe she either went away and left +Annie alone at the spring, or else sent her home alone."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you are right," said Mrs. Lilly, much distressed. "Fanny, +do tell the truth. Think how much depends upon it—poor Annie's life, +perhaps. Did you leave Annie alone at the spring?"</p> + +<p>"No, I tell you," snapped Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Why did you not come home with her?" asked Mrs. Cassell. "You promised +me not to leave her a moment."</p> + +<p>"I didn't leave her alone."</p> + +<p>"Then what did you mean by saying you were not gone ten minutes?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say so." And that was all that could be got out of Fanny. She +would only cry, and declare that she would go home to Boston.</p> + +<p>"We are wasting time," said Mr. Brandon, looking at his watch. "It is +three o'clock now. Are there any men about the place, Mrs. Lilly?"</p> + +<p>"No. Mr. Wye is over at B—, and Pat went away two or three days ago."</p> + +<p>"We must have help," said Mr. Brandon. "Are you sure the farm has been +thoroughly searched?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so," answered Mrs. Lilly. "Can you think of any place where +we have not looked, Oney?"</p> + +<p>"There is the old quarry," said Oney, rather reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"Heaven help us!" groaned Mrs. Lilly. "She would never go there, +surely. Fanny, you did not go near the old quarry, did you?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Besides, it is all covered up," said Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>Oney shook her head.</p> + +<p>"It is not covered over," said she. "I have just been down to see, +and the boards are gone. If Annie had taken a fancy to go and see the +sheep—"</p> + +<p>"We must have it searched at once," said Mr. Brandon. "Willy, bring me +the rake, a stout string, and the largest pole you can find."</p> + +<p>"Let me go with you," said Oney. "Mrs. Lilly, do make them eat +something, or at least drink a cup of tea. The old lady looks ready to +faint, and it is enough to kill Emma."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The old quarry was a deep pit which had been dug in the search for +slates. It was full of water, and was usually kept closely covered, but +now, as Oney had said, the boards were gone. In fact, Sam Leyman had +helped himself to them only the night before for the purpose of mending +his pig-pen. Mr. Brandon made a drag of the rake and some poles, and +satisfied himself that Annie was not in the water.</p> + +<p>"Well, so far, no news is good news," he said, trying to speak +cheerfully, as he entered the parlour. "We must have help at once and +search the woods. I have sent Willy over to Willson's and to call the +Crane boys, and they will rouse all the men in the neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>It was now four o'clock, and there was no time to lose. Willy was a +fast runner, and soon left word at Deacon Crane's and Mr. Willson's +that a child was lost on the mountains, and before half an hour, four +or five stout young men were on their way to Mrs. Lilly's.</p> + +<p>As Willy came back through the edge of the woods, he met Sarah Leyman +slowly descending the steep path which here led up the mountain-side.</p> + +<p>When Sarah had seen Fanny's signal, she went back to the spruce wood +where they had been talking together, and sat down to think what she +should do next. She was deeply disappointed and mortified. She had made +up her mind that Fanny would certainly lend her the money, for she +argued, "I am sure I would do as much for her in a minute if I had the +money to lend."</p> + +<p>Building on this very uncertain foundation, she had arranged all her +plans. She did not mean to tell of her intended journey at home, for +she knew that neither her father nor her mother would consent, and she +had very little notion of honouring or obeying her parents. She had +one decent dress. She would buy herself a hat and some other things, +and take the night train, which would land her at Concord early in the +morning—she was too often away all night for her absence to excite any +surprise—and she would ask her aunt to write from Concord as soon as +she had found her. She felt sure that Aunt Caroline would take Ally if +the matter were properly represented to her.</p> + +<p>"And then," thought Sarah, "I will buy a decent calico frock and go to +work at anything I can find to do, and I will save every cent till I +have enough to pay Fanny, and perhaps do something for ma."</p> + +<p>This was Sarah's plan, which she had thought over till it appeared +perfectly easy and reasonable—always provided that Fanny would lend her +the money.</p> + +<p>But Fanny had absolutely refused to lend her the money, and for no +better reason than that she wanted to use it herself for things which +her grandmother would not buy for her. Sarah could hardly believe it +even now. She had exposed her own life for Fanny, and Fanny would not +deny herself an ounce of sugar-plums for her.</p> + +<p>Sarah, as I have said, was by nature generous and loyal. She had begun +by loving Fanny dearly, and by fancying that such a pretty, graceful +girl must be all but perfect. And though she had found out her mistake, +she had gone on loving Fanny, and in some degree trusting her. But that +was all over now. Her idol was effectually shattered, and with it, as +it seemed, all her fine plans for helping herself and Ally. She did not +know where to look for the money which was necessary for the carrying +out of her scheme. She did not know of any way in which she could earn +it, or anybody she could ask to lend it to her, unless, indeed, Mrs. +Lilly would help her.</p> + +<p>This was a new idea, and Sarah turned it over in her mind as she sat on +the dry, rocky ground under the spruce trees. Mrs. Lilly had never been +anything but kind to her, and Sarah was not disposed to resent the old +lady's having forbidden Fanny to play with her.</p> + +<p>"I should feel just so in her place, I know," she thought. "Though, +after all, I don't see that Fanny is so much better than I am, only her +folks are respectable. I wish I hadn't touched the pie. It was real +mean. I wonder if she did laugh at me that night I came to the meeting? +I don't half believe it. I believe Fanny made up the story to scare me. +She was dreadfully afraid to have me see the old lady, for fear she +should find out something. I have a great mind to go and see her—not +to-day, though, because she has company. What a cunning, sweet little +thing Annie is! I can think of Ally being just like her if she only had +a chance."</p> + +<p>And then Sarah began thinking over what Annie had said about Celia's +returning the doll, and to wonder, if she should follow Celia's +example, whether it would not be a right way of beginning that "being +good" which she still desired; and a verse came into her mind which she +had heard long ago.</p> + +<p>"What was that? 'If we confess our sins, he is faithful to forgive us +our sins'—something like that; Aunt Sally used to say it, and I guess +it is in the Bible somewhere. If only I could tell of myself and not of +Fanny! I don't want to get her into trouble."</p> + +<p>Sarah sat still for some time, now pondering Annie's simple remarks, +now turning over in her mind various plans, possible and impossible, +for the accomplishment of her purpose. At last she rose, and ascending +the mountain for some distance, she began a busy search for certain +ferns and flowering plants which grow in those higher regions.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brandon seemed to think so much of them," she said to herself, "I +will carry him a bunch of them, and maybe I shall get a chance to speak +to the old lady."</p> + +<p>Sarah had succeeded in her search, and, with full hands, was descending +the hill toward the house, when she met Willy.</p> + +<p>"Sarah, have you seen little Annie Mercer?" was Willy's first greeting.</p> + +<p>"Seen her? No—not since twelve or one o'clock," replied Sarah, in +surprise. "Why? What do you mean? What has happened to Annie?"</p> + +<p>"That is just what nobody knows," replied Willy. "She went up to the +spring with Fanny this morning, and Fanny says she brought her back as +far as the garden fence and watched her almost into the house, but she +never came in, and we can't find her anywhere. Where was she when you +saw her?"</p> + +<p>"She was up at the spring with Fanny," answered Sarah. "Does Fanny say +she took Annie back to the garden?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but we don't know what to believe, she tells so many different +stories."</p> + +<p>Sarah had a quick mind, and even while Willy was speaking, she saw all +the terrible possibilities of the case.</p> + +<p>"It is not true, Willy," said she, speaking low, but fast and clearly. +"Fanny never went back with Annie. We left her alone at the spring. +I never thought of any danger, and I wanted to speak to Fanny, so I +told Annie to wait at the spring and I would bring her some shells. +Then Fanny and I went up on the hill and talked a little while, and I +found a lot of snail shells. See, here they are now. When we came back, +Annie was gone. I supposed, of course, she had gone home, and yet I +felt a little uneasy, so I made Fanny go home, and told her to wave +her handkerchief if it was all right. She did wave it, and I thought +Annie was safe. Willy, she is lost in the woods; she has gone up on the +mountain."</p> + +<p>"Why do you think she has gone up?" asked Willy.</p> + +<p>"Lost children always do," replied Sarah. "They always go up and up. +* Don't stop to talk. Run home and tell them how it was, and bid them +send for old John Steeprock and his dog directly. Tell them that it was +my fault, but that I never thought of any danger, and that I am going +to look for Annie myself."</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<br> +* This is the general belief in mountainous countries. I do not vouch +for its truth.<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"But you will be lost too," said Willy, divided between anger and +admiration. "It is almost night, and you will lose your way, and +perhaps die in the woods."</p> + +<p>"Never mind me," returned Sarah. "I know the mountain pretty well, and +sha'n't die for staying out one night in the woods. And if I should, +nobody will miss me but Ally. Never mind me, but run home; only, Willy—"</p> + +<p>Willy came back to hear.</p> + +<p>"Tell Mrs. Lilly I stole the pie and I am sorry, and ask her, if +anything happens to me, to be good to Ally."</p> + +<p>And Sarah turned and went rapidly up the steep path.</p> + +<p>Willy ran down toward the house and speedily entered the parlour, where +Mr. Brandon was again trying to extract the truth from Fanny. Fanny now +varied so far from her first story as to say that she only came with +Annie to the fence and went back again.</p> + +<p>"That is all stuff, Mr. Brandon," said Willy, unceremoniously bursting +into the conversation. "Fanny never came with her an inch. She went +up in the spruce woods with Sarah Leyman, and left Annie alone at the +spring."</p> + +<p>"How do you know, Willy?" asked Mrs. Lilly. "Who told you?"</p> + +<p>"Sarah herself told me just now," replied Willy. And he repeated the +conversation he had just held with Sarah, adding, "And, Grandma Lilly, +she says she took that pie that day, and she is very sorry, and if +anything happens to her, will you please be good to Ally?"</p> + +<p>"Where is Sarah Leyman?" asked Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>"She has gone up on the mountain to look for Annie."</p> + +<p>"Lord help her, what can she do?" said Mrs. Lilly. "She will only be +lost herself."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that," said Willy; "Sarah knows the mountain pretty +well. And oh, I forgot: Sarah says you must go up the mountain, because +lost children always go up, and you must send for old John Steeprock +and his dog directly."</p> + +<p>"That is an excellent suggestion," said Mr. Brandon. "I did not know +the old man was alive."</p> + +<p>"He! He will live for ever, I believe," said Oney, speaking according +to the common Indian belief, "unless he gets tired of it, and stops of +his own accord. Suppose I jump on John Crane's horse and go after the +old man myself. I can coax him round if he happens to be in one of his +sulky fits."</p> + +<p>"Do, Oney! Oh, Fanny, if you had only told us this at first, instead of +lying so!" exclaimed Mrs. Lilly, wringing her hands. "Just see how much +time we have lost by your wickedness!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care. I'm sure it was not my fault that Sarah wanted to speak +to me," replied Fanny. "And I should have told, only you told me not +to play with Sarah. And I'm sure I couldn't help it, and I didn't mean +to," cried Fanny, with a full burst of sobs. "It is all your fault, +telling me not to play with her."</p> + +<p>"Go up to your room and stay there," said Mrs. Lilly. "I wish you had +never come into my house."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I didn't want to come," sobbed Fanny. "I wanted to go with my +mother, and I always knew that you didn't know how to manage me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly took Fanny by the man and led her to her own room. What +happened there I have no means of knowing, but I very much suspect that +Fanny got, as the nurses say, "something to cry for." If she did, it +must be confessed that she got no more than her deserts.</p> + +<p>In a very short time, Oney came back with John Steeprock, an old Indian +of her own tribe, who had lived on the outskirts of the mountain time +out of mind, and from his strength and activity seemed likely to live +much longer. Steeprock listened to the story.</p> + +<p>"Bad—bad!" said he, shaking his head. "S'pose fog come down, little +girl maybe die. S'pose she full into hole—bad business!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Brandon was about to speak, but Oney whispered to him, "Don't +interrupt him; let him manage his own way. If you put him in a bad +humour, you won't get any good of him. Let him go on his own way."</p> + +<p>Old Steeprock ruminated for a minute in silence. Then he said, "You got +little girl's shoe?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cassell had bought a second pair of shoes for Annie, and she +quickly produced them.</p> + +<p>"Good!" said the old man, taking them in his hand. "Now we go up to the +spring. You call the other boys."</p> + +<p>The searching party were soon assembled at the spring. It was now +nearly six o'clock, and a fine though cool evening. Steeprock looked +about him, examined the ground carefully, and at last seemed to make up +his mind.</p> + +<p>"You let me be captain?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. Manage it your own way," said two or three of the men.</p> + +<p>"Good!" returned the old man, evidently much gratified. "You all got +guns or pistols?"</p> + +<p>Three or four guns and revolvers were produced.</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Steeprock, again. "Now, then, you Crane boys, go 'that' +way; you Willsons, go 'that' way," indicating the direction with his +finger. "If you find her alive, shoot three times; if dead, only once."</p> + +<p>The men moved off, leaving Steeprock and Mr. Brandon by the spring. +Steeprock called his dog, which was hunting about in the fallen leaves, +talked to him in the Indian language, and held Annie's little shoe to +his nose. The dog smelled it, wagged his tail, and began snuffing the +ground, till, having found what he sought, he set off at a rapid pace +up the path which Fanny and Sarah had taken.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>ON THE MOUNTAIN.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>AND where was Annie all this time? Hurrying along toward the top of the +great mountain as fast as her weary little legs could carry her, often +stumbling and falling, now and then sitting down to rest and get her +breath and cry for "grandma" and "Fanny," and then drying her tears and +setting off again.</p> + +<p>Annie had waited at the spring for what seemed a very long time, though +in reality it was not more than twenty minutes. She had never been +alone in the woods before. Indeed, she had never been in the woods at +all, and she began to be a little scared at the loneliness, and at the +kind of murmuring, whispering silence which prevailed around her.</p> + +<p>She thought at first that she would go home, and then she reflected +that perhaps grandma would not like it if she came home alone. She +was not quite sure that she could climb the fence, and Sarah had +said something, she did not know exactly what, about a bull. Then an +odd fancy came into her silly little head. Mary Patterson, who was +an English girl, had told her about the gypsies and how they stole +children. What if that dark, wild-looking girl with the curly hair +should be a gypsy, who had coaxed Fanny into the woods to do her some +mischief?</p> + +<p>"But I won't believe any such nonsense," said Annie, stoutly. "Fanny +knew her before, and she was real good to me. I dare say she is looking +for snail shells all the time. I wonder if there would be any harm in +my going a little way up the path to see if they are coming?"</p> + +<p>Annie hesitated a minute or two, and then she concluded to venture. +She went a little way and then a little farther, and then she saw a +very pretty sight—no less than a family of young squirrels at play on +a fallen tree. She watched them for a few minutes, and then ventured +a little nearer and a little nearer. Then she saw a beautiful flower, +and thought she would get it for Uncle Hugh. She did so, and then all +at once bethinking herself that the girls might come back and miss her, +she turned round and hurried back toward the spring.</p> + +<p>She walked on and on, wondering that she did not come to the place, +and that she saw so many things which she had not noticed before. +Meantime, the path, such as it was, grew narrower and rougher, till all +at once Annie found herself at a spring, indeed, but not the one she +had left nor at all like it. This spring boiled up in a little pool at +the foot of a precipice so high that Annie could hardly see the top, +and the rocks seemed just ready to fall on her head. In fact, many of +them had already fallen, and lay round in wild confusion, while the +earth between them was soft and boggy, so that Annie had wet her boots +through and through before she was aware.</p> + +<p>In the midst of the rocks and in the water lay a good many bones +bleached and scattered. Annie did not know enough to perceive that +they were the bones of a sheep or calf. She had a kind of horror of +dry bones, and would never touch or go near one if she could help it, +and she turned and hurried away out of sight of the place. She had the +sense to see that this was not the spring she had left, and she thought +she must return to that as quickly as possible.</p> + +<p>So she turned and ran back again, taking, as she supposed, the same +path, but she only involved herself in fresh difficulties. And at last, +thoroughly bewildered, she sat down to rest and to think what she had +better do. She looked round. The place was so entirely strange that it +might almost have been in another world from that which the little girl +had inhabited hitherto. Great black evergreen trees grew all around +her, and the ground beneath was brown and slippery from the fallen +spruce and hemlock needles. Great rocks peeped through the soil, or lay +scattered upon it, as if they had at some time fallen from the sky.</p> + +<p>Everything was very still, but as Annie listened she heard at a great +distance, as it seemed, a strange wild scream and then another. It was +the cry of the eagles which lived on the upper part of the mountain, +but Annie did not know that. Gradually, as she sat there, the knowledge +grew upon her that she did not know where she was, that she was +lost—lost on the great mountain, where Sarah had warned her not to go +on any account, where, as she knew, more than one person had been lost +and never found again. Perhaps the bones were those of people who had +strayed away before her, who had died all alone in the woods and had +never even been buried.</p> + +<p>That was a silly fancy, but Annie was only a very little girl, and +older and wiser people have lost their heads on being lost in the +woods. She burst into tears and called aloud for grandma and Uncle +Hugh, but stopped suddenly, for somebody or something in the woods +seemed mocking her, repeating the words over and over again, fainter +and fainter every time. It was only the mountain echo, but Annie did +not know anything about echoes. She was frightened at the sound; and +starting to her feet, she ran away as fast as she could, which was not +very fast, for the ground began to be very steep and rugged.</p> + +<p>By this time, Annie was quite beside herself. She remembered that +they had come up hill all the way to Mrs. Lilly's, and that grandma +had told her before leaving home that morning that Mrs. Lilly lived +on the mountain, and she reasoned in her confused little mind that if +she could only climb high enough, she should find the old red house +and grandma. So she climbed on, often falling and hurting herself, now +getting on easily a little way, now stopping to rest. And once finding +a bed of soft green moss, she lay down and slept for two or three +hours, the deep, heavy sleep of exhaustion.</p> + +<p>When she awoke, it was nearly dark in the woods, for the sun was below +the mountain-top, though he still shone on the other side. Annie felt +weak and exhausted, but her sleep had refreshed her, and after she +remembered where she was and how she came there, she rose and struggled +on.</p> + +<p>At last she could go no farther, and it was well she could not, for she +was now come into a very dangerous part of the mountain, where there +were many deep holes and cracks, some of them partly filled with water. +If she had fallen into one of them, she would probably never be found +again either dead or alive, for the place had an ill name, and few even +of the boldest hunters ever came near it.</p> + +<p>Annie sat down on the ground in dumb despair, too wretched even to +cry, too hopeless to make another effort. She sat on the ground, with +her elbows on her knees and her hands supporting her chin, and thought +about herself and her condition almost as if she had been another +person. She was lost on the mountain like the poor hunter she had heard +of; and, like him, she would most likely never be found again. She +would die there in that lonely place and never go home, never see the +new baby sister who had come since she left home, and never, never see +papa and mamma any more.</p> + +<p>She thought of her little cousin Grace Belden—how she had died in +her crib in the safe, warm nursery, with mamma holding her hands and +talking to her about heaven and the Lord Jesus. There would be nobody +to hold her hand and talk to her when she was dying, nor to dress her +body in soft white cashmere and lay it tenderly in the little white +coffin, as they had done with Grace—nobody to take her to the church +and read the funeral service, and sing a funeral hymn so softly and +sweetly, as Mrs. Terry and her daughters had done for Grace. Perhaps +the robins would cover her body with leaves, as they had done with the +babes in the wood, and the angels would come and carry her away to +heaven. She did not think she should be afraid of them if they looked +like the picture which hung in mamma's room at home.</p> + +<p>But oh, she did want to see mamma once more. She rose and tried to +walk, but she sat down directly. One of her boots had come off, and she +had so hurt her foot on the sharp stones that it bled. Besides, her +head was dizzy, and a mist came over her eyes when she stood up. No; +she must just sit still where she was, and perhaps somebody would come.</p> + +<p>She had lighted on a place where she could sit down and lean her +back against a rock. She had not climbed directly up, but rather in +a slanting direction along the side of the mountain. Still, she had +climbed very high—higher than any one would believe who did not know +how fast and how far lost children will travel.</p> + +<p>The wind blew cool, and Annie was thinly dressed, for it had been a +warm day, and nobody had expected her to be out in the evening. The +cold and fatigue made her drowsy, and she was almost asleep, when she +suddenly started to her feet. Had she dreamed it? Was it one of the +voices which had mocked her in the woods and whispered in the tops of +the trees, or had some one called her name? She listened intently. Yes, +it was so.</p> + +<p>"Annie! Annie Mercer!" rung out in a clear voice. "Annie, are you here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, oh yes!" called Annie, in a joyful tone. "Oh, do come!"</p> + +<p>"I am coming. Keep still where you are. Don't stir!" called the voice +again.</p> + +<p>Annie stood like a statue, hardly breathing. She heard steps among +the dry leaves, and in another moment, Sarah Leyman burst through the +bushes and caught the child in her arms.</p> + +<p>"You blessed, dear little thing, I have found you at last!" exclaimed +Sarah, kissing Annie as if she would eat her up. "But how in the world +did you ever come here? Were you scared at the spring?"</p> + +<p>"I was very naughty," said Annie, penitently. "I ought to have minded, +but I didn't. And I went up the hill to find you, and there I saw some +squirrels. And I tried to go back, and then I came to a place where it +was all wet, and there were bones," said Annie, in a terrified whisper. +"I thought they were the bones of people who had been lost; were they?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Sarah; "they were the bones of some animal which had +fallen off the rocks. Well, what then?"</p> + +<p>"Then I knew that I was lost, and I tried to find my way, and I +couldn't, and when I came up here I couldn't get any further, and so I +sat down."</p> + +<p>"And a very good thing you did," said Sarah. "But who would have +thought of your getting so far?"</p> + +<p>"How did you find me?" asked Annie.</p> + +<p>"That's more than I can tell you, Annie. I followed your track pretty +well to the green spring, and then it was pretty much all chance or +something else—I don't know what. I could see that you had started to +go up the hill, and I kept on after you, till by and by I found the +place where you lay down and left your hat. See, here it is. Then I +knew I was right so far, and I don't know why, but I felt sure you had +come up here." And Sarah kissed Annie once more.</p> + +<p>"It was very good in you to come and find me," said Annie, returning +the kiss. "I thought I should die all alone, and nobody would know +where I was, nor bury me, nor anything," she continued, piteously. "And +when I called, something kept mocking me, and whispering in the trees +overhead."</p> + +<p>"That was only the echo and the wind in the trees," replied Sarah. "It +could not hurt you."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know that," said Annie; "it made me afraid. Won't you take me +home to grandma?"</p> + +<p>Sarah's face darkened. She compressed her lips and looked round her. It +was now dark, and though the moon was risen, she gave them but little +light.</p> + +<p>"Why, there's the trouble, Annie," said she. "I don't see how we are to +get home to-night."</p> + +<p>"But I must go home," said the little girl, her wide blue eyes full of +terror. "I can't stay out in the woods all night. Oh, please, please, +do take me home to grandma!" wailed the poor child, in piteous tones. +"It is so dreadful up here, and I want to go to my own little bed."</p> + +<p>Sarah sat down and took Annie on her lap, holding her fast, for the +poor child was so horrified at the thought of staying out all night +that she had started to run away.</p> + +<p>"Annie dear, listen to me," said she, kindly but firmly. "Stop crying, +and sit still and try to listen and understand."</p> + +<p>Annie was a docile little thing, and she had always been taught to +mind. She stopped struggling, sat still, and presently checked her sobs +and looked up in Sarah's face.</p> + +<p>"I am good now," said she. "Won't you take me home?"</p> + +<p>"I want to tell you about it," said Sarah, still holding her. "I should +like to take you home and to go home myself. I don't want to stay out +in the woods any more than you do. But you see it is quite dark, only +the moon shines a little. There are a great many dangerous holes and +precipices round here. And if we should try to go down the mountain in +the dark, we should most likely fall and be killed, and then we should +never see grandma any more. I don't see but we must stay here till +morning, and then we will go down."</p> + +<p>"But we haven't any beds nor any supper," objected Annie. "And I am so +hungry, I don't know what to do."</p> + +<p>Sarah put her hand into her pocket and brought out two ginger cakes +which she had brought from home.</p> + +<p>"Here is some supper for you," said she; "and as for beds, we must do +the best we can. Sit still here and eat your cakes, and I will see what +I can do. There! Don't be frightened; I am not going away," she said, +in a soothing tone, as Annie threw her arms around her neck and clung +to her. "I wouldn't leave you for anything."</p> + +<p>Somewhat reassured and very hungry, Annie sat down and ate her cakes, +while Sarah looked about among the rocks, where she presently found a +little nook well enough suited to her purpose—a kind of recess or cave +formed by two great slabs of stone, leaning one against the other.</p> + +<p>"This will do," said she to herself; "now for a bed."</p> + +<p>She dared not go far away to seek materials, but she broke off all +the evergreen boughs within reach, and arranged them into a couch, +spreading her own apron over them.</p> + +<p>"There! That is the best that I can do," said she, returning to Annie's +side. "It is no great thing of a bed, but it is better than nothing. +Now let me loosen your clothes, and you shall lie down and sleep like a +little kitten, and I will watch by you. Don't be afraid. I don't think +anything will come near us."</p> + +<p>"And will you hear me say my prayers?" asked Annie. "Grandma always +does, or mamma when I am at home. Oh dear! What would mamma say if she +could see where I am?"</p> + +<p>"I am very glad she does not," was Sarah's thought. But she only said, +"Yes, dear, I will hear you say your prayers."</p> + +<p>Annie knelt down and repeated her simple prayer, ending, as usual, +with, "God bless papa and mamma, grandmamma and all my friends, and +dear little baby sister;" to which she added, "And bless Sarah because +she came to find me, and please keep us safe, and let somebody come and +find us pretty soon."</p> + +<p>"Now lie down and let me cover you up warm," said Sarah, after a little +silence. "I will sit down here close by you."</p> + +<p>She laid Annie down as she spoke, and heaped the branches under her +head, so as to make a pillow. Then she laid the child's jacket over her +and put more branches over her feet.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Annie. "May I say my evening hymn now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, do. Say all the hymns you know. I love to hear them. Are you +warm?"</p> + +<p>"Not very," said Annie.</p> + +<p>Sarah took off her woollen frock and laid it over the child, and then +sat down by her.</p> + +<p>"Now listen, Annie," said she, impressively, laying her hand on the +child's arm. "When you wake up, whether it is night or morning, don't +you stir. You may speak to me, but if I don't answer, don't you move. +Lie still, and somebody will come and find you. Will you remember?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Annie; "I will do just as you tell me."</p> + +<p>"That is a good girl. Now, say your hymns and try to go to sleep."</p> + +<p>Annie began to repeat her hymn, but presently her voice died away and +she was silent.</p> + +<p>Sarah hoped she was asleep, but presently she roused up again:</p> + +<p>"Sarah!"</p> + +<p>"Well, dear, here I am."</p> + +<p>"I forgot to say my Bible verse—the verse I learn every morning, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Well, say it now."</p> + +<p>"'I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only +makest me dwell in safety,'" repeated Annie, reverently. "I don't think +we ought to be afraid, Sarah. I think he will take care of us."</p> + +<p>"Annie," said Sarah, "suppose you had been very naughty indeed. Do you +think he would take care of you or care anything about you then?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," answered Annie, simply, "because he does take care of all +the wicked people all the time. They couldn't live if he didn't."</p> + +<p>A great wonder rose in Sarah's mind. Had her heavenly Father really +been taking care of her all this time, as Aunt Sally used to say he +would? She thought of all the risks she had run in her wild rambles, of +her encounter with the bull. Had he really taken care of her? Was it +his hand which had guided her to Annie? "And suppose we have been very +wicked and are sorry and want to be good, what must we do?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"We must be very sorry and ask him to forgive us and make us better, +and we must try never to do so again," she answered.</p> + +<p>"And will he forgive us and help us if we do so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it says so in the Bible. I don't remember the words."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Sarah. "Go to sleep like a good girl, and remember +what I said to you about lying still."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Annie. "Please kiss me goodnight."</p> + +<p>The two children—for Sarah was not much more—kissed each other +tenderly. Then Annie lay down to sleep, and Sarah sat by her, shivering +with the cold, her bare arms exposed to the wind. At last she crept +close to Annie's side, within the shelter of the rock; and leaning +against the side of the little cave, she fell into an uneasy slumber.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image004" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image004.jpg" alt="image004"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b><em>On the Mountain.</em></b><br> +<br> +<b>"If you find her, you shall have more dollars</b><br> +<b>than ever you saw in your life."</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>THE SEARCH.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>JOHN STEEPROCK'S dog guided his master and Mr. Brandon straight to the +green spring, but there he seemed puzzled. He smelt about, ran here +and there, and finally came back to his master, as if baffled in the +search. Steeprock patted him, talked to him in his own language, and +again showed him the little shoe, and the dog again set off up the +side of the mountain, but at a slower pace and as if still somewhat +uncertain.</p> + +<p>"What ails him?" asked Mr. Brandon.</p> + +<p>"Somebody else been here—been here only a little while ago. Don't you +be scared, Hugh. Dog know heap."</p> + +<p>"So I see," replied Hugh. "John, if you find her, you shall have more +dollars than ever you saw in your life."</p> + +<p>"Dollars very good," said the Indian, philosophically—"good to buy +tobacco and powder, and clothes," he added, after some consideration. +"But s'pose you no got one dollar in the world, me find nice little +girl all the same. You light um lantern."</p> + +<p>"What do you think the chances are?" asked Hugh as he stopped to light +the lantern.</p> + +<p>"Don't know," was answered rather gruffly. "Tell better when we get +through."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the others will find her first."</p> + +<p>"They no find her," said Steeprock. "They good boys—want to do +something; so me tell them run, go where they do no harm," he added, in +a tone of benevolent condescension. "You and me, we get um out of the +way, and then go find her. Me old man, but know something yet."</p> + +<p>"I should think so," said Hugh, laughing despite his anxiety. "How old +are you?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know, exactly," replied the Indian. "You know when the great war +was when King George's men fight the Yankees at Bennington?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Well, then me tall boy, about like John Crane. Then I went on the +war-path with my father, the first time I ever take scalps."</p> + +<p>"Why, you must be over a hundred years old," said Hugh, in surprise. +"Is that possible?"</p> + +<p>"Very old man—just as I tell you. That day I took two scalps—got +'em now. When I die, I leave 'em to you, Hugh," said John, with a +benevolent air and tone, as of one who bestows a valuable curiosity. +"You good boy. I always like you. Waugh!" exclaimed John, interrupting +himself with the Indian's startling and inexpressible exclamation of +surprise as he held his light to the ground.</p> + +<p>"What now?" asked Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Another girl gone up here—not long ago, either. That make the dog so +puzzled and uneasy."</p> + +<p>"Another girl!" exclaimed Hugh, in astonishment. "How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"How I know anything? How you know what words mean when you read um +book? See um track plain as writing. Gone up about two hours ago."</p> + +<p>"It must be Sarah Leyman," said Hugh. "Willy said she had gone to look +for Annie."</p> + +<p>"Maybe so. That Leyman girl all same as Indian. Waugh!" exclaimed +Steeprock again as the dog came running back to them with something in +his mouth. It was Annie's little boot.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Steeprock, showing it to Hugh. "She been right up +here, and the other after her."</p> + +<p>"Then she must be near, dead or alive," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>The Indian shook his head gravely.</p> + +<p>"Maybe so—maybe not. Lost children travel very fast. Maybe she gone +clear up above the trees. Come on." And he resumed his walk, climbing +the more difficult path so fast that Hugh, though an experienced +woodsman, had some trouble in keeping up with him.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Sarah had slept about two hours, when she was awakened by the cold. She +put her hand on Annie. The child felt warm and was breathing softly. +She rose with some difficulty, for she was stiff with the cold and from +the cramped position in which she had been sitting. The moon had now +risen high enough to throw a good deal of light on the place where they +were, and Sarah could see to move about a little. She walked to and +fro on the narrow level platform in front of Annie's shelter, to warm +herself, and then began to pull more evergreen boughs and to lay them +over Annie.</p> + +<p>"I must keep awake if I can," she said to herself. "If I sleep, I shall +be chilled to death, and then what will become of the child? I don't +care so much about myself. I know Mrs. Lilly would find some way to +befriend Ally, and perhaps she would be all the better without me."</p> + +<p>As she spoke these words half aloud, she brushed Annie's face with one +of the branches she was laying over her. Annie opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing, Mary?" she said, in a sleepy tone.</p> + +<p>"Getting some more clothes to lay over you," replied Sarah. "Are you +warm enough?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am as warm as toast, but the bed feels so hard and lumpy." +Then waking more fully and realizing where she was, she broke out into +a pitiful little wail: "Oh, Sarah, I thought I was at home in my own +nursery, and mamma was just saying, 'Annie, don't let Pick lie on the +clean pillow.' Oh dear! I shall never see mamma nor Pick any more."</p> + +<p>Sarah could not speak, but she put her arms round Annie and kissed her +and held her in a close embrace.</p> + +<p>"Am I naughty to cry?" asked Annie, presently.</p> + +<p>"No, dear, you are not naughty, but I wouldn't cry if I could help it. +You will only make yourself sick, and I am sure mamma would not like +that. Tell me all about Pick. Is he your dog?"</p> + +<p>"No; he is my cat, and I have had him—oh, such a long time!"</p> + +<p>Sarah asked various questions about Pick, and Annie was gradually +diverted from her grief to talk of his beauty and accomplishments.</p> + +<p>"You haven't any brothers and sisters, have you?" asked Sarah.</p> + +<p>"No; only little baby sister that I haven't seen yet. Grace Belden used +to live at our house and be my sister, but she is dead now. She died +in the winter before I came here. People die everywhere, don't they, +Sarah?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, and they live everywhere too," answered Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Grace never went up on the mountain," continued Annie, pursuing the +current of her own thoughts. "She never went into any dangerous places, +and she had mamma and Mary to take care of her."</p> + +<p>"And yet she died, you see," said Sarah. "And people have been in much +more dangerous places than this, and yet they have lived."</p> + +<p>"Have they?" asked Annie. "What sort of places?"</p> + +<p>"Shipwrecks and earthquakes and battles and fires," said Sarah. "I read +the other day of a baby which was carried off by a tiger, and yet it +was saved."</p> + +<p>"My papa has been in a great many battles, and he never was even +wounded," said Annie. "Do you think we shall ever get away from here, +Sarah?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," returned Sarah, hopefully. "Everybody will be looking for you +by this time. But you must mind what I tell you, and not stir from this +place, whatever happens."</p> + +<p>"I will mind," said Annie. "But won't you be here, Sarah?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I might be asleep or something," answered Sarah.</p> + +<p>She began to realize their position more clearly than she had done +before. They were a long way from any frequented part of the mountain. +It was very cold, and she was thinly dressed, even if she had not given +up her frock to Annie, and she thought it not unlikely that she might +be chilled to death by morning.</p> + +<p>"Annie," said she, "do you know any more Bible verses?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, a great many."</p> + +<p>"Say them for me, will you? They will help to pass away the time."</p> + +<p>Annie repeated her texts reverently. Sarah listened with fixed +attention.</p> + +<p>"Say that again," said she, as Annie repeated, "'Come unto me, all ye +that labour.' Who said that?"</p> + +<p>"The Lord Jesus," answered Annie; "and oh, Sarah, I know some more +pretty verses, about a lost sheep. They were in my lesson last Sunday." +And Annie repeated the parable beginning, "'What man of you, having an +hundred sheep—'"</p> + +<p>"Grandma said that meant the Lord Jesus," said Annie. "She said his +people were his sheep; and when one of them strays away and gets +lost, he goes and finds him and brings him back. 'We' are lost in the +wilderness, you know, Sarah."</p> + +<p>"I know 'I' am," said Sarah, sadly.</p> + +<p>"And so I think he will send some one to find us. Is it almost morning?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet, but it will be pretty soon. I guess you had better lie down +again. I am afraid you will catch cold."</p> + +<p>"I 'am' cold," said Annie, shivering. "Are you?"</p> + +<p>"Lie down, and I will lie down by you; then we can keep each other +warm."</p> + +<p>Annie was soon asleep again, but Sarah could not sleep. She was too +cold and anxious; and besides that, her head was full of new ideas. Was +God really her Father? Had he taken care of her all these years that +she had gone on never thinking of him or caring to please him? Did he +really love her, and was she one of those lost sheep the Lord had come +to find?</p> + +<p>She began to think over all she had heard about him. It was not much. +As she had truly told Fanny, her father would not permit good books to +come into his house. All she knew of the sacred volume she had learned +by reading it in the district school, and she had never been to school +very regularly. Yet she could remember a good many things, after all. +There was the verse Deacon Crane had talked about at the meeting that +night.</p> + +<p>Suppose she should confess her sins then and there, would He indeed +forgive them and take them all away, as the deacon had said? Yes, it +was all true. She felt quite sure that it was true. She hid her face +in her hands for a long time; and when she again raised it, her bright +black eyes were wet with tears, and her face wore an expression of +peaceful awe.</p> + +<p>She drew the covering closer over Annie, and lay down as near as +possible to her side, repeating Annie's verse, "'I will both lay me +down in peace, and sleep.'"</p> + +<p>She had hardly lost herself five minutes when something roused her. +She sat up and listened intently. Yes, some animal was coming up the +mountain-side directly toward them. She could hear the patter of its +feet on the dry leaves, and her heart beat fast and thick. Could it be +a wolf or a panther? It was not unlikely, for there were plenty of them +on the other side of the mountain, she knew. She could now hear the +sound distinctly, and see the movement of the branches below. Oh for +a club or a stout stick! She snatched up a stone—the only weapon she +could find—and threw herself directly before Annie, but she dropped it +the next moment as the supposed wolf pushed his way through the bushes +and sprung upon her neck, licking her face and hands and yelping with +delight.</p> + +<p>Hugh and Steeprock were still some distance below, and had stopped an +instant to take breath, when Fox came dashing down toward them. He ran +to his master, jumped upon him, and then ran back the way he had come. +The Indian uttered a yell which resounded far and wide; and springing +forward as if his great age had been no more than five-and-twenty, he +bounded up the mountain-side at a pace which left Hugh far behind.</p> + +<p>Hugh followed as quickly as he could, and stood at his side. The old +man was bending down, and beckoned him to approach.</p> + +<p>There lay Annie, fast asleep on her bed of leaves, and across the +entrance of the little cave lay Sarah, looking as if she were in the +sleep that knows no waking in this world.</p> + +<p>"Are they dead?" Hugh managed somehow to ask.</p> + +<p>"Not the little one," replied Steeprock. "She fast asleep. You got +bottle in your pocket?"</p> + +<p>Hugh produced his travelling-flask, and with some difficulty forced +some of the spirit it contained between Sarah's lips. She gasped, +sighed, and opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Where is Annie?" was her first question.</p> + +<p>"Here, safe and sound. Annie dear, wake up. Here is Uncle Hugh come for +you."</p> + +<p>"Uncle Hugh!" said Annie, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "How did you +come here?"</p> + +<p>"I came after you, my little lost lamb," said Mr. Brandon, taking Annie +in his arms, "but I see somebody was before me. My dear girl, what has +become of your frock?"</p> + +<p>"I put it over Annie," said Sarah, blushing crimson, and shrinking into +the farthest corner of the cave, as she suddenly remembered that she +was half undressed. "I was so afraid she would freeze to death." And +pulling out her dress from among the green branches, she slipped it on +with all speed.</p> + +<p>"Ugh! S'pose you freeze yourself," said Steeprock. "What you say now, +Hugh? Didn't I tell you another girl gone up here? Old Indian no fool, +eh?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed! But who could guess that they could both reach this place +without being killed?"</p> + +<p>"God took care of us, I guess," said Annie, who was now quite cool and +collected. "But how did you know where we were?"</p> + +<p>"It was this good old man who found you, my dear," said Hugh, turning +to Steeprock, who was composedly filling his pipe by way of improving +the time. "But I am afraid all our finding would have been in vain, +only for Sarah. My dear girl, how shall we ever thank you?"</p> + +<p>"You needn't thank me at all," replied Sarah, rather gruffly. "Annie +never would have been lost only for me. It was all my fault, leaving +her alone in the first place."</p> + +<p>"No, it wasn't your fault, either," said Annie, rather petulantly. "I +ought to have minded, and stayed at the spring when you went to get the +snail shells for me. Did you find any?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, here they are in my pocket," said Sarah, laughing rather +hysterically. "I will get you something prettier some day."</p> + +<p>"And you made my bed and put your own frock over me, and heard me say +my prayers, and all," continued Annie. "I think you are the 'bestest' +girl in the world."</p> + +<p>"Pretty nice girl!" said Steeprock, approvingly. "Once I had a daughter +just so big. You pretty nice girl too. S'pose you got kiss for old +Indian?"</p> + +<p>Annie put up her face to be kissed, though. She felt considerable awe +of the old man.</p> + +<p>"Now we go home," continued Steeprock. "You take the baby, and I take +this one."</p> + +<p>"I'm not a baby," said Annie, indignantly. "I am seven years old, and I +can read and write."</p> + +<p>"Oh no; you great big woman," said the Indian, soothingly. "All the +same; you let Hugh carry you."</p> + +<p>Annie was very willing to be carried, and the party set out to return. +The proverb that "to go down the hill is easy" is not always true, by +any means. The descent in the present instance was both difficult and +dangerous. They could only go very slowly and carefully, and Sarah, who +was much exhausted, fell more than once.</p> + +<p>"You fire your pistol," said Steeprock, at last. "Maybe someone hear +and come to meet us. This girl can't walk much farther. She clear worn +out."</p> + +<p>"Never mind me," said Sarah, sitting down wearily. "I can stay here +very well. Just carry Annie home, and leave me here."</p> + +<p>"That would not do at all," said Mr. Brandon. He fired three shots as +he spoke—the signal which had been agreed upon.</p> + +<p>An answering shout told that he had been heard, and presently three or +four of the young men came up. A volley of shots now rang through the +woods, proclaiming to all within hearing that the lost child was found. +Two of the Crane boys made a "lady chair" with their hands, and Sarah +was persuaded to let herself be carried down to the red house. She +began to feel very tired and confused, and nearly fell from her seat +more than once.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cassell and Mrs. Lilly were called out by the shouts, and met the +party in the garden.</p> + +<p>"It was all my fault, grandma," called out Annie as soon as she saw +Mrs. Cassell. "Sarah thinks it was hers, but it wasn't. And she found +me 'way up in the mountain, and made me a nice little bed."</p> + +<p>"It was even so," said Mr. Brandon. "Sarah found her first, and her +care and good sense saved the child's life."</p> + +<p>"Bless you, my dear!" said Mrs. Lilly, taking Sarah in her arms and +kissing her. "But how cold you are! You are shivering all over. You +must go right to bed and have some hot soup. Oney has it all ready on +the stove."</p> + +<p>"I guess I had better go home," said Sarah, wearily. "I shall make you +too much trouble."</p> + +<p>"You don't stir a foot this night," said Mrs. Lilly, positively. "You +must go to bed directly."</p> + +<p>Sarah was in no condition to resist Mrs. Lilly's strenuous kindness, +even if she had wished to do so. A deathly faintness was stealing over +her; and when she was undressed by Oney and put into bed, her head +sank on the pillow as if it would never rise again. She wanted nothing +but to lie still. But Oney, whose experienced eye knew the symptoms +of dangerous exhaustion, would not let her sleep till she had taken +several spoonfuls of strong hot soup.</p> + +<p>At last, all was still. The neighbours who had helped in the search +were dismissed with thanks. Old Steeprock camped down on the kitchen +floor, with his dog beside him, preferring that accommodation to +Willy's bed, which the boy offered him. Annie was already asleep in her +grandmother's arms, and all was quiet about the old red house.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>REPENTANCE.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE next day Annie did not get up, but in the course of a week, she was +playing about as lively as ever. But Sarah still lay on her sick-bed, +and it seemed doubtful whether she would ever rise from it again. The +chill she had received on the mountain resulted in an attack of acute +rheumatism, which chained her hand and foot, and was accompanied by a +severe cough.</p> + +<p>It was well for her that she was at Mrs. Lilly's instead of at home. +Mrs. Lilly put her into the best bedroom down stairs, and she and Oney +waited on her night and day, while Mrs. Cassell and Mrs. Brandon made +her up a set of nice underclothes, and nobody thought anything too +much to do for the girl who had risked her own life to save little +Annie. Sarah's mother came to see her, and would fain have established +herself at the red house altogether, but she was nothing of a nurse, +and it seemed as if she could not come near Sarah without hurting her. +Besides, as Oney said, she needed twice as much waiting on as Sarah +herself. And so Mrs. Lilly, who was not a woman to be imposed upon, +soon gave her to understand that Sarah did not need her, and that she +had better go home and take care of her own house and family.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Leyman departed, shaking off the dust from her feet, and declaring +that she would never enter the house again, whatever happened. They had +got Sarah away from her, she said, and now they might take care of her +till they were tired of it. They were a set of Pharisees, anyhow, who +never would do anything for poor folks except in their own way; and if +Sarah was going to join them and turn against her, she (Mrs. Leyman) +would have no more to do with her.</p> + +<p>For three or four weeks Sarah lay very sick, and Dr. Perkins came every +day to see her. She was wonderfully patient and grateful for all that +was done for her, and Mrs. Lilly said it was surprising to see the +wild girl so tamed. One day, when Sarah was able to talk a little, she +called the old lady to her bedside.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lilly," said she, "do you think I shall ever get well?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, my dear," answered Mrs. Lilly, frankly. "I hope so, but +nobody can say for certain."</p> + +<p>"Did Willy tell you what I told him that day—I mean about the pie and +the gingerbread?" asked Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he told me that you got them, and that you were sorry. Did you +ever take anything else?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Sarah; "only I have sometimes picked an apple when I was +going through the orchard. I got the pie more in fun than for anything +else."</p> + +<p>"So I supposed," said Mrs. Lilly. "Did Fanny know about it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to say anything about Fanny," replied Sarah. Then, after +a pause: "Mrs. Lilly, did you and Oney really make fun of me for coming +to the meeting that night, and say you should think I would be ashamed +to come looking so?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," answered Mrs. Lilly. "I was very glad to see you +there, as I told you at the time. Who could have told you such a story?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Sarah. "Somebody did, and I was just fool enough +to believe it. It almost killed me, I can tell you. I made up my mind +that night that I would try to be good, and I was going to ask you to +give me a Bible or Testament, and then Fanny—" Sarah stopped short and +looked very much vexed.</p> + +<p>"Go on," said Mrs. Lilly, quietly. "'And then Fanny—'"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to tell," said Sarah, "but it is out now. Well, Fanny +told me how you made fun of me for coming, and said you meant to shut +me up in the asylum. That almost broke my heart, for I always thought +you were so good—like Aunt Sally. And when I heard that, it made me +feel as if there was nothing real or true in heaven or earth, and I +might as well do one thing as another."</p> + +<p>"Poor child! I don't wonder. But now tell me, Sarah—for it is very +important that I should know the true story—did Fanny have anything to +do with stealing the pie?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose I may as well, though I never meant to say a word +about it," said Sarah. And she went on to give the whole history of +that unlucky Sunday afternoon.</p> + +<p>"I felt sorry enough afterward," she concluded, "and I wanted to tell +you so, and to make it up somehow, but Fanny seemed afraid to have me +say a word, and I thought it would be mean to get her into a scrape +after I had eaten my share of the pie. I sent you the raspberries, +though, to make up. And afterward, when the bull chased us—I don't know +whether you heard about that—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Willy told me."</p> + +<p>"Well, then I wanted to tell you again, but Fanny wouldn't consent. She +said afterward that you were very angry with me for letting the bull +out of his pasture, but indeed I didn't do it."</p> + +<p>"He did not get out of the pasture," said Mrs. Lilly. "He was in +his stable, and I don't know to this day how he got loose. I always +supposed it was some of Pat's carelessness, and never thought of +blaming you."</p> + +<p>"Well, there is no use in going over it all," said Sarah, wearily. +"Only that night when I was up on the mountain with Annie, I heard her +say her little prayers and verses before she went to sleep. And she +told me some things in her innocent way that encouraged me, and I made +up my mind that if I got down alive, I would try to be a Christian like +Aunt Sally. And I want you to tell me how, for I don't know any more +about it than a wild Indian or a heathen."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I will tell you all I know, my dear child," said Mrs. Lilly, +much affected. "The way is very plain and easy, as the Scripture says, +'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved'—believe +that he came to save all of us, and you in particular; that he died to +redeem you, and that he now lives in heaven to intercede for you."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that he really cares about 'me'—me in particular?" asked +Sarah, with eyes full of wonder.</p> + +<p>"I mean just that, Sarah. You are one of the lost sheep that, he came +to seek and to save. If you will but believe on him, your sins will +be forgiven and washed away, and God will give you the Holy Spirit to +dwell in your heart and help you to do right."</p> + +<p>"It seems too good to be true," said Sarah. "Is it in the Bible? Read +it to me, please, will you?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly brought her old Bible and read, and Sarah lay and listened +till a look of sweet peace and contentment stole over her face. But +presently she grew troubled again.</p> + +<p>"I have been so wicked," said she. "I never really knew before how bad +I have been. It doesn't seem as if he could ever forgive 'me'."</p> + +<p>"'Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow,'" +repeated Mrs. Lilly. "Scarlet is the hardest colour to get out. The +paper-makers say so, and they have to use the red rags to make that +reddish blotting-paper that you have seen. When God forgives us, he +washes away our sins and makes our souls clean and white again. And so +he will do by you, if you ask him to do it for his dear Son's sake."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I 'am' sorry," murmured Sarah. "Mrs. Lilly, please ask him +for me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly prayed with Sarah, and Sarah joined in the prayer with her +whole heart.</p> + +<p>"Now you have talked enough for once," said Mrs. Lilly, after a little +silence. "Another time we will take the subject up again."</p> + +<p>"I want to say one thing more," said Sarah, eagerly—"only one thing, +because I may not be able to talk another time. Please sit down and let +me tell you, and then my mind will be quite easy."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly sat down again, wisely thinking it better to let Sarah free +her mind, and Sarah went over her plan for seeing her Aunt Caroline and +persuading her to take Ally.</p> + +<p>"Was that what you wanted Fanny to give you the money for?" asked Mrs. +Lilly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I never asked her to give it to me. I only wanted to borrow +it till I could earn something. But won't you write to Aunt Caroline +yourself, and tell her the story and ask her to take Ally and bring her +up? She may have her all to herself, and I won't even come near her if +Aunt Caroline doesn't want me to. Ally is real clever and good, though +she isn't pretty, and I am sure Aunt Caroline would like her and do +well by her. Won't you ask her, please?"</p> + +<p>"I will write this very day," said Mrs. Lilly. "I think your plan is +an excellent one. But now you must rest, and try to sleep before the +doctor comes, or he will scold us all round for letting you talk so +much."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lilly wrote that day, as she had promised, and read the letter to +Sarah, but she added a postscript which she did not think it necessary +to show.</p> + +<p>The result was that Aunt Caroline came over to see the state of things +for herself. She made acquaintance with the girls and talked matters +over with Mrs. Lilly, and finally she carried Ally home to live with +her, taking the precaution to have her legally bound till she came of +age.</p> + +<p>Mr. Leyman demurred at first, but certain little matters in the line +of stealing lumber and iron from the quarries having come to Squire +Holden's ears, it was hinted to Mr. Leyman that unless he consented to +do what was deemed best for his children, the place would speedily be +made too hot to hold him. Mr. Leyman sold his place not long afterward, +and he and his wife, accompanied by Miss Clarke, went off to Utah, +regretted by nobody in Hillsborough.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>And where was Fanny all this time? Fanny was more unhappy and more +ashamed than she had ever been before in all her life. She had made up +her mind that as Annie was found, and, as she expressed it, no great +harm was done, after all, things would go on just as usual.</p> + +<p>She had come down to the breakfast table next morning prepared to be +very amiable, and even expecting to be something of a heroine for her +share in the adventure. She was astounded when Mrs. Lilly ordered her +back to her room with an admonition not to leave it again till she had +permission, which, she added, would not be very soon. In vain Fanny +cried and protested that she didn't mean to and she couldn't help it. +Mrs. Lilly was deaf to all such excuses. She saw that Fanny needed a +severe lesson, and she meant that it should not be wanting.</p> + +<p>For a whole week Fanny stayed in her room, with nobody to speak to, +and no other recreation than a very short walk every day with her +grandmother or Oney. When she was at last permitted to come down +stairs, she found that her troubles were by no means at an end. Nobody +took any notice of her. Nobody asked her any questions or listened when +she spoke, her grandmother only saying,—</p> + +<p>"I don't want to hear anything from you, Fanny. You have told so many +lies that nobody can believe a word you say, and so I prefer that you +should say nothing."</p> + +<p>Fanny was not allowed to go out of sight of the door, and she was +made in every way to feel that nobody trusted her. At first she tried +to harden herself and think that she did not care, and then that she +was terribly abused, but all did not answer. She was very miserable, +and began to wish in earnest to be a good girl. The first sign of +improvement was seen in her beginning to wait upon Sarah, who was now +able to sit up and to use her hands a little, though she could not walk +or even bear her weight at all. Fanny had begun by keeping entirely out +of her way, and putting on a very injured look whenever Sarah's name +was mentioned before her. But now she began to do little offices for +the invalid—to bring her fresh water and set flowers on the table by +her side, at first without speaking a word. One day she rather timidly +asked Sarah if she should read for her.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, please," said Sarah, eagerly. "My eyes are so soon tired, and +it hurts me to hold the book."</p> + +<p>"I will read to you every day if you want me to," said Fanny. "I love +to read aloud."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I shall be glad to have you," said Sarah. "Fanny, are you +angry with me now?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Fanny, sadly, "but I did not know whether you would care +to have me talk to you. Nobody does, nowadays."</p> + +<p>Sarah did not exactly know what to say, so she bent forward and kissed +Fanny. Fanny returned the kiss and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry," said Sarah, tenderly.</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," sobbed Fanny, "I am so very unhappy. But I won't +bother you with my crying. I have made trouble enough already."</p> + +<p>"Fanny," said Sarah, detaining her as Fanny was about to go away, "why +don't you tell Grandma Lilly all about it, and ask her to forgive you? +I am sure she would if you asked her. She did me."</p> + +<p>"You were not half so bad as I have been," said Fanny. "Oh, Sarah, I +was so mean to you. I told you grandma made fun of you, and it wasn't +true. And all the time I used to play with you, I felt so above you."</p> + +<p>"I know you did," answered Sarah. "I never could understand why; +though, of course, your folks were rich and respectable, and all that, +but that was no merit of yours. But never mind now. Come, Fanny, tell +grandma all about it. I am sure you will feel better, and that she will +forgive you, and it will be all right again."</p> + +<p>Fanny shook her head sadly. "I don't feel as if it would ever be right +again," said she. "Don't you want a hot brick for your feet?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, please. They are cold nearly all the time."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The next day Oney was going over to R—, and Fanny timidly asked if she +might send for some worsted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you choose," said Mrs. Lilly. "Why do you want it?"</p> + +<p>"I want to crochet some thick, warm slippers for Sarah. She says her +feet are cold all the time."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Mrs. Lilly, evidently pleased. "Tell Oney what you +want, and she will buy it for you."</p> + +<p>"I would rather buy it with my own money, please," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well. If you want to make Sarah a pretty present, I have no +objection, my dear."</p> + +<p>It was the first time Mrs. Lilly had said "my dear" since that unlucky +day, and the words brought the tears into Fanny's eyes. She had begun +to feel the value of that kindness and affection which she had always +accepted as her just due.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I should like to do something for somebody," said she.</p> + +<p>"You can do a great deal for everybody, Fanny, but then you must begin +in the right way."</p> + +<p>Oney bought the worsted, and Fanny began the slippers. She was rather +apt to grow tired of work and throw it aside when it was half done, but +she persevered with the slippers, and Sarah was delighted with them.</p> + +<p>"I never saw anything so pretty, and how soft and warm they are!" said +she. "If I had some wool, I would try making a pair for Grandma Lilly. +I know how to crochet a little."</p> + +<p>Now, Fanny had decided in her own mind to use the rest of the wool for +a pair of slippers for herself. But as Sarah said this, a thought came +into her mind, and she acted on it immediately.</p> + +<p>"You may have this wool if you want it, Sarah; then the present will be +partly yours and partly mine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you," said Sarah. "But suppose you make one and I the other?"</p> + +<p>"Well, just as you like," answered Fanny. And this was almost the first +time in her life that she had ever sacrificed her own pleasure or +convenience to another person.</p> + +<p>"Fanny," said Sarah as she laid down her work to rest her hands—"Fanny, +have you made it right with Grandma Lilly yet?"</p> + +<p>"No," returned Fanny, sighing. "I don't see that things are any nearer +to coming round than ever."</p> + +<p>"Things don't 'come' round, Fanny. You have got to cut them round or +roll them round, or something."</p> + +<p>"Maybe so. But, you see, the trouble is, I don't know how to begin. +Grandma don't believe a word I say, and no wonder," said Fanny, +sighing. "I have been such a liar all my life. I don't know how to +believe myself when I say I am sorry. I hate myself, and I wish I was +somebody else. However, I believe I will tell her. Things can't be much +worse than they are."</p> + +<p>"Do," said Sarah. "Tell her to-night when you are going to the +schoolhouse:" for it was Thursday night, and some sort of religious +service was always held in the schoolhouse on that evening.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Fanny was as good as her word. That night, coming home from the +Corners, she confessed everything without reserve, telling her +grandmother of many acts of disobedience which she had never suspected.</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether you will believe me or not, grandma," she +concluded, "but indeed I am telling the truth now."</p> + +<p>"I believe you, Fanny," said Mrs. Lilly.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't blame you if you didn't," continued Fanny, "I have told +so many lies. Grandma," she added, in a low, frightened voice, "I told +lies to God when I said my prayers. I said I was sorry when I wasn't, +and when I meant all the time to do the very same things again. Do you +think he will ever forgive me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my child. He will not only forgive you, but will help you +to do better another time. Now, Fanny, can you tell me what has been +the root of all your troubles?—What has made you disobey me so many +times?"</p> + +<p>"I wanted my own way," said Fanny, after a little consideration.</p> + +<p>"Exactly; and when you had done so very wrong that Sunday, and Sarah +wanted to come and confess, as I know she did, why did you hinder +her? Why did you take so much pains to prevent her from going to the +meetings and from coming to talk to me, as she intended doing?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you would find out all about me and punish me. I wanted you +to think I was a good girl when I wasn't."</p> + +<p>"Then, my dear, it has been your love of self which has been at the +bottom of all the mischief. Don't you see that it is so?"</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Fanny, promptly. "It has always been just so. I never +could bear to give up to anybody or do anything for anybody unless +it was something that I liked myself, and yet I thought people ought +always to give up to me. And everybody did give up to me at home, +till Arthur came. Mamma used to say it made children deceitful to be +contradicted."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that excuses you now, Fanny?" asked Mrs. Lilly, thinking, +however, that the tree had borne such fruit as might have been expected.</p> + +<p>"No, grandma, but you don't know how hard it is for me to give up the +least little thing that I want. It seems as if I couldn't. That day on +the mountain, Sarah didn't want to leave Annie alone. After we started +to go away, she wanted to come back, and I wouldn't let her, because I +wanted to know what she had to say. And, after all, I would not lend +her the money."</p> + +<p>"There was nothing wrong in that," observed Mrs. Lilly. "It would not +have been proper for you to lend such a large sum without asking me. +Sarah herself sees that now."</p> + +<p>Fanny shook her head. "That was not the reason," said she. "I was ready +enough to spend the money in other ways—to buy candy and 'dime novels,' +such as I knew you wouldn't want me to have. And then I told so many +lies about Annie. She might have been found directly and Sarah might +have been well this minute. Do you think Sarah will ever be well again?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, my dear. Her state is very discouraging. I do not see +that she gains the use of her feet in the least. But, Fanny, how is it +to be with you hereafter? Do you mean to go on in the same way, living +for self and nothing else?"</p> + +<p>"Not if I can help it, grandma. I have tried not to be selfish lately, +and I have asked God to help me, too, but it is hard work."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I dare say—much harder than if you had been trained to give up +for others when you were young."</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to blame mamma, grandma," said Fanny, flushing a +little. "It wasn't her fault at all. I am sure she meant to do just +right."</p> + +<p>"We won't blame anybody, dear," said Mrs. Lilly, not displeased by this +little outbreak. "We will only try to do better in future. I will give +you a verse, Fanny, which I think may help you: 'Whosoever will come +after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.' +Do you know who said that?"</p> + +<p>"The Lord Jesus."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and he says again: 'Whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come +after me, cannot be my disciple.' You must try as much as you can to +deny 'yourself'—to put yourself out of the question and live for other +people. You must think about yourself as little as possible, and never +lose a chance of putting yourself aside when you can do good or even +give pleasure by it."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't seem as though it was in me to do that," said Fanny, +shaking her head. "Grandma, I should just like to be made new, to be +made over altogether."</p> + +<p>"Well, dear, that is just what your heavenly Father is ready to do for +you—to 'create a clean heart and renew a right spirit' within you, +as the Psalm says. If you ask him, he will so change your heart and +disposition that you will love to do his will. You will love him, and +because you love him, you will want to be like him and to make your +whole life one sacrifice to him. I do not say that you will not do +wrong a great many times, but whenever you do, you will be sorry and +not rest till God has forgiven you. If you persevere in this course, +you will grow more and more like him every day. Your life will be a +blessing to all around you and the beginning of eternal happiness to +yourself."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>All the rest of the summer Sarah sat helpless in her arm-chair, unable +to stand for a moment. One bright day in September, Mrs. Cassell came +up to see Mrs. Lilly and consult her about a plan for the sick girl's +benefit. Mrs. Cassell had a friend at the head of a great institution +where some wonderful cures had been performed on rheumatic patients. +Doctor Henry was to be at Mrs. Cassell's house on a certain day, and +Mrs. Cassell proposed to bring him up to examine Sarah and see if +anything could be done for her. Mrs. Lilly consented, but thought Sarah +had better not know anything about the matter, and to this Mrs. Cassell +agreed. Mrs. Lilly herself was not at all hopeful about Sarah, and she +did not think it best to excite the child's own hopes of recovery.</p> + +<p>Doctor Henry came at the appointed day, and examined Sarah very +carefully before pronouncing an opinion. He thought she might be cured, +but she would need a long course of treatment and great care.</p> + +<p>"I should like to take her home with me and see what can be done," said +the doctor. "Has she any friends?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty," said Mrs. Lilly. "If you will undertake the case, I will pay +her expenses. My children do not need my help, and I have more money +than I know what to do with."</p> + +<p>"With your permission, Mrs. Lilly, that is our part of the business," +said Mrs. Cassell, smiling. "My son-in-law has written to me to spare +no expense."</p> + +<p>"Well, we won't quarrel about it," said Mrs. Lilly. "When would you +like to have her go, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be here again in two weeks, and will take her home with me," +answered the doctor.</p> + +<p>And so it was settled. Sarah was to return with the doctor, and Oney +was to go with her and see her settled. Sarah did not know whether to +be pleased or sorry. She had been happier since her illness than ever +before in her life, and she dreaded to leave Mrs. Lilly and Fanny, whom +she loved more than ever. But then she was very anxious to get well and +be able to earn her own living as well as to do something for Ally, now +happily domesticated with Aunt Caroline.</p> + +<p>"I can't make up my mind whether I like it or not," she said, in answer +to Oney's question. "I am glad it has been all settled for me; for if I +had to choose, I should not know what to say."</p> + +<p>"Well, it is all settled, you see, so you needn't say anything at all," +remarked Oney. "Fanny, if you sew so steadily all day, you will have a +headache again. Run out to the barn and hunt up some fresh eggs, that +is a good girl."</p> + +<p>"How she has worked making my things!" remarked Sarah, after Fanny +had left the room. "She used to say that she hated sewing. It seems a +shame that every one should be working so hard for me, and I can't do +anything."</p> + +<p>"It has been a very good thing for Fanny, though," said Oney, "and has +given me more hopes of her than anything else. I believe she will turn +out a good girl yet, and that is more than I would have said of her six +months ago—or of you, either, for that matter," added Oney to herself.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Sarah went away to "The Cure," and, contrary to her expectation, she +found herself very happy there. Every one was kind to her, and after +she once began to amend, her health improved rapidly.</p> + +<p>A lady who was staying in the house undertook to teach her in the +things she so much wanted to know. And very happy was Sarah when she +succeeded in writing a letter to Fanny without one misspelled word.</p> + +<p>But Sarah found something else beside her health at the Spring. She +found her business and place in life. As she grew better and able to +go about the house, she showed a remarkable aptitude for nursing and +waiting on the sick. Doctor Henry, who saw most things that went on +around him, one day called Sarah into his office.</p> + +<p>"You are almost well now," said he, after he had asked her several +questions about her health. "What are you going to do with yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I must go to work at something," answered Sarah. "There is no use in +my living on Grandma Lilly any more. I don't know enough to teach, so I +suppose I must go out to work."</p> + +<p>"The world is running over with teachers," remarked the doctor, "and +there are plenty of other things to be done."</p> + +<p>And then he proceeded to open his plan, which was that Sarah should be +regularly educated for a nurse. "You seem to have a natural talent for +that sort of thing, and it is a pity it should be wasted. I have been +surprised to see how handily you adapt yourself to the work. Have you +ever had any experience?"</p> + +<p>"Only what I have gained in waiting on Ally," said Sarah.</p> + +<p>"However you learned it, you certainly have it," said the doctor. +"A skilful nurse is sure to have plenty of practice, and that of a +profitable kind, and there is no place in which a good woman can make +herself more useful. To be sure, it is hard work."</p> + +<p>"Everything worth doing is hard work sometimes," remarked Sarah, "but I +think doing nothing is the hardest work of all."</p> + +<p>"Very true," said Doctor Henry. "Well, take time to think and pray +over it, and write to your friends. If you decide to undertake the +profession, I will find a place in the house for you, and will see that +you have all needful instruction."</p> + +<p>Sarah did think and pray over the matter, and finally concluded to +accept the doctor's offer.</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say I did wonder at your choice of a profession when I +heard of it," said Fanny, on one of their meetings at the red house, +which Sarah still called home, and whither she always came to spend her +vacations. "I think I should rather do almost anything else. And you +know, Sarah, grandma and Mrs. Cassell both offered to educate you for +a teacher. How did it happen that you decided to take up nursing for a +business?"</p> + +<p>"I can't pretend to tell you all about it," replied Sarah, "only when I +began to go about, I wanted something to do, and I began to wait on a +sick lady whose room was next mine. So one thing led to another, and I +seemed just to have found my place. I did not so much choose it as it +chose me. Besides, I like to be a person of consequence," she added, +smiling. "Teachers go begging nowadays, but people come begging for +nurses. There are twice too many of the one and not half enough of the +other."</p> + +<p>"So it seems. I wonder how many letters you have had since you came +here? Grandma says you work a great deal too hard."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to work so hard another year," said Sarah. "I am going to +rest and study and have a nice time with Ally, and in order to do that, +I must lay up some money. And now, Fanny, what do you mean to be?"</p> + +<p>"To be Fanny, I guess," returned Fanny, smiling. "I shall never be +anything great or grand in the world. I shall just go on filling up +the chinks and rounding the corners, threading needles for other folks +to sew with, and carrying bricks for other people's houses. I used to +think that I should like to go into a convent or a sisterhood, but I +can tell you I find there are plenty of ways to be useful in every-day +life, and that one can be just as self-denying and work just as hard in +a gypsy hat as in a cambric cap or a black serge veil."</p> + +<p>"Annie has found her vocation, too, with all those little brothers and +sisters of hers," said Sarah. "You don't know what a grave, motherly +little thing she is, though her face isn't a day older than when she +was lost on the mountain."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76760 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/76760-h/images/image001.jpg b/76760-h/images/image001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b111afd --- /dev/null +++ b/76760-h/images/image001.jpg diff --git a/76760-h/images/image002.jpg b/76760-h/images/image002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..35e2fb0 --- /dev/null +++ b/76760-h/images/image002.jpg diff --git a/76760-h/images/image003.jpg b/76760-h/images/image003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7882d2f --- /dev/null +++ b/76760-h/images/image003.jpg diff --git a/76760-h/images/image004.jpg b/76760-h/images/image004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba7b925 --- /dev/null +++ b/76760-h/images/image004.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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