HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY

THE

HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES

By Laura E. Richards

Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume, $1. 75

 Queen Hildegarde Hildegarde's Holiday Hildegarde's Home Hildegarde's Neighbors Hildegarde's Harvest Three Margarets Margaret Montfort Peggy Rita Fernley House The Merryweathers

 _The above eleven volumes boxed as a set, $19. 25_

 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass. 

[Illustration: "'DO TELL US ABOUT HER, PLEASE!'"]

THE HILDEGARDE SERIES

Hildegarde's Holiday

A STORY FOR GIRLS

BY

LAURA E. RICHARDS

Author of

 "The Margaret Series, " "The Hildegarde Series, " "Captain January, " "Melody, " "Five Minute Stories, " etc. 

ILLUSTRATED

[Illustration]

THE PAGE COMPANY

 BOSTON PUBLISHERS

 _Copyright, 1891_ BY ESTES AND LAURIAT

 Made in U. S. A. 

 Twenty-fourth Impression, May, 1927 Twenty-fifth Impression, January, 1930

 THE COLONIAL PRESS C. H. SIMONDS CO. , BOSTON, U. S. A. 

_To H. R. _

CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I. INTRODUCTORY 11

 II. MISS WEALTHY 20

 III. THE ORCHARD 34

 IV. THE DOCTORS 53

 V. ON THE RIVER 74

 VI. A MORNING DRIVE 94

 VII. A "STORY EVENING" 126

 VIII. FLOWER-DAY 151

 IX. BROKEN FLOWERS 178

 X. THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD 201

 XI. "UP IN THE MORNING EARLY" 222

 XII. BENNY 241

 XIII. A SURPRISE 254

 XIV. TELEMACHUS GOES A-FISHING 278

 XV. THE GREAT SCHEME 300

 XVI. THE WIDOW BRETT 314

 XVII. OLD MR. COLT 337

 XVIII. JOYOUS GARD 354

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 PAGE"'DO TELL US ABOUT HER, PLEASE!'" (p. 128) _Frontispiece_"'AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?'" 23"'DO SAY IT'S ALL RIGHT, JEREMIAH!'" 77"THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE" 111"'DON'T YOU THINK WE HAVE ENOUGH FLOWERS, ROSY?'" 174"SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE" 194"'OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!'" 247"'NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!'" 333

HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY. 

CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

In a small waiting-room at Blank Hospital a girl was walking up anddown, with quick, impatient steps. Every few minutes she stopped tolisten; then, hearing no sound, she resumed her walk, with hands claspedand lips set firmly together. She was evidently in a state of highnervous excitement, for the pupils of her eyes were so dilated that theyflashed black as night instead of gray; and a bright red spot burned ineither cheek. In the corner, in an attitude of anxious dejection, sat asmall dog. He had tried following his mistress at first, when she beganher walk, and finding that the promenade took them nowhere and was verymonotonous, had tried to vary the monotony by worrying her heels in aplayful manner; whereupon he had been severely reprimanded, and sentinto the corner, from which he dared not emerge. He was trying, with hisusual lack of success, to fathom the motives which prompted human beingsto such strange and undoglike actions, when suddenly a door opened, anda lady and gentleman came in. The girl sprang forward. "Mamma!" shecried. "Doctor!"

"It is all right, my dear, " said the doctor, quickly; while the lady, whose name was Mrs. Grahame, took the girl in her arms quietly, andkissed her. "It is all right; everything has gone perfectly, and in afew days your lovely friend will be better than she has ever been sinceshe was a baby. "

Hildegarde Grahame sat down, and leaning her head on her mother'sshoulder, burst into tears. 

"Exactly!" said the good doctor. "The best thing you could do, my child!Do you want to hear the rest now, or shall I leave it for your mother totell?"

"Let her hear it all from you, Doctor, " said Mrs. Grahame. "It will doher more good than anything else. "

Hildegarde looked up and nodded, and smiled through her tears. 

"Well, " said the cheerful physician, "Miss Angel (her own name is animpossibility, and does not belong to her) has really borne theoperation wonderfully. Marvellously!" he repeated. "The constitution, you see, was originally good. There was a foundation to work upon; thatmeans everything, in a case like this. Now all that she requires is tobe built up, --built up! Beef tea, chicken broth, wine jelly, and assoon as practicable, fresh air and exercise, --there is your programme, Miss Hildegarde; I think I can depend upon you to carry it out. "

The girl stretched out her hand, which he grasped warmly. "Dear, gooddoctor!" she said; whereupon the physician growled, and went and lookedout of the window. 

"And how soon will she be able to walk?" asked the happy Hildegarde, drying her eyes and smiling through the joyful tears. "And when may Isee her, Doctor? and how does she look, Mamma darling?"

"_Place aux dames!_" said the Doctor. "You may answer first, Mrs. Grahame, though your question came last. "

"Dear, she looks like a white rose!" replied Mrs. Grahame. "She issleeping quietly, with no trace of pain on her sweet face. Her breathingis as regular as a baby's; all the nurses are coming on tiptoe to lookat her, and they all say, 'Bless her!' when they move away. "

"My turn now, " said Dr. Flower. "You may see her, Miss Hildegarde, theday after to-morrow, if all goes well, as I am tolerably sure it will;and she will be able to walk--well, say in a month. "

"Oh! a month!" cried Hildegarde, dolefully. "Do you mean that she cannotwalk at all till then, Doctor?"

"Why, Hilda!" said Mrs. Grahame, in gentle protest. "Pink has not walkedfor fourteen years, remember; surely a month is a very short time forher to learn in. "

"I suppose so, " said the girl, still looking disappointed, however. 

"Oh, she will _begin_ before that!" said Dr. Flower. "She will begin inten days, perhaps. Little by little, you know, --a step at a time. In afortnight she may go out to drive; in fact, carriage exercise will be avery good thing for her. An easy carriage, a gentle horse, a carefuldriver--"

"Oh, you best of doctors!" cried Hildegarde, her face glowing again withdelight. "Mamma, is not that exactly what we want? I do believe we cando it, after all. You see, Doctor--Oh, tell him, Mammy dear! You willtell him so much better. "

"Hildegarde has had a very delightful plan for this summer, Doctor, "said Mrs. Graham, "ever since you gave us the happy hope that thisoperation, after the year of treatment, would restore our dear Rose tocomplete health. A kinswoman of mine, a very lovely old lady, who livesin Maine, spent a part of last winter with us, and became muchinterested in Rose, --or Pink, as we used to call her. "

"But we _don't_ call her so now, Mammy!" cried Hildegarde, impetuously. "Rose is exactly as much her own name, and she likes it much better;and even Bubble says it is prettier. But I _didn't_ mean to interrupt, Mammy dear. Go on, please!"

"So, " continued Mrs. Grahame, smiling, "Cousin Wealthy invited the twogirls to make her a long visit this summer, as soon as Rose should beable to travel. I am sure it would be a good thing for the child, if youthink the journey would not be too much for her; for it is a lovelyplace where Cousin Wealthy lives, and she would have the best of care. "

"Capital!" cried Dr. Flower; "the very thing! She _shall_ be able totravel, my dear madam. We will pack her in cotton wool if necessary; butit will not be necessary. It is now--let me see--May 10th; yes, quiteso! By the 15th of June you may start on your travels, Miss Hildegarde. There is a railway near your cousin's home, Mrs Grahame?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Hilda. "It goes quite near, doesn't it, Mamma?"

"Within two or three miles, " said Mrs. Grahame; "and the carriage roadis very good. "

"That is settled, then!" said Dr. Flower, rising; "and a very good thingtoo. And now I must go at once and tell the good news to that brightlad, Miss Rose's brother. He is at school, I think you said?"

"Yes, " replied Hildegarde. "He said he would rather not know the exactday, since he could not be allowed to help. Good Bubble! he has been sopatient and brave, though I know he has thought of nothing else day andnight. Thank you, Doctor, for being so kind as to let him know. Good-by!"

But when Dr. Flower went out into the hall, he saw standing opposite thedoor a boy, neatly dressed and very pale, with burning eyes, which methis in an agony of inquiry. 

"She is all right, " said the physician, quickly. "She is doing extremelywell, and will soon be able to walk like other people. How upon earthdid you know?" he added, in some vexation, seeing that the sudden relieffrom terrible anxiety was almost more than the lad could bear. "Whatidiot told you?"

Bubble Chirk gave one great sob; but the next moment he controlledhimself. "Nobody told me, " he said; "I knew. I can't tell you how, sir, but--I knew!"

CHAPTER II. 

MISS WEALTHY. 

It was the 17th of June, and Miss Wealthy Bond was expecting her youngvisitors. Twice she had gone over the house, with Martha trotting at herheels, to see that everything was in order, and now she was making athird tour of inspection; not because she expected to find anythingwrong, but because it was a pleasure to see that everything was right. 

Miss Wealthy Bond was a very pretty old lady, and was very well aware ofthe fact, having been told so during seventy years. "The Lord made mepleasant to look at, " she was wont to say, "and it is a greatprivilege, my dear; but it is also a responsibility. " She had lovely, rippling silver hair, and soft blue eyes, and a complexion like agirl's. She had put on to-day, for the first time, her summercostume, --a skirt and jacket of striped white dimity, open a little atthe neck, with a kerchief of soft white net inside. This kerchief wasfastened with quite the prettiest brooch that ever was, --a pansy, madeof five deep, clear amethysts, set in a narrow rim of chased gold. MissWealthy always wore this brooch; for in winter it harmonized as wellwith her gown of lilac cashmere as it did in summer with the whitedimity. At her elbow stood Martha; it was her place in life. She seldomhad to be called; but was always there when Miss Wealthy wantedanything, standing a step back, but close beside her beloved mistress. Martha carried her aureole in her pocket, or somewhere else out ofsight; but she was a saint all the same. Her gray hair was smooth, andshe wore spectacles with silver rims, and a gray print gown, with thesleeves invariably rolled up to the elbows, except on Sundays, when sheput on her black cashmere, and spent the afternoon in uneasy state. 

"I think the room looks very pretty, Martha, " said Miss Wealthy, for thetenth time. 

"It does, Mam, " replied Martha, as heartily as if she had not heard theremark before. "Proper nice it looks, I'm sure. "

"You mended that little place in the curtain, did you, Martha?"

"I did, Mam. I don't think as you could find it now, unless you lookedvery close. "

"And you put lavender and orange-flower water in the bottles? Very well;then that's all, I think. "

[Illustration: "'AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?'"]

Miss Wealthy gave one more contented look round the pretty room, withits gay rose-flowering chintz, its cool straw matting, andcomfortable cushioned window-seats, and then drew the blinds exactlyhalf-way down, and left the room, Martha carefully closing the door. 

In the cool, shady drawing-room all was in perfect order too. There wereflowers in the tall Indian vases on the mantelpiece, a great bowl ofroses on the mosaic centre-table, and, as usual, a bunch of pansies onthe little round table by the armchair in which Miss Wealthy always sat. She established herself there now, and took up her knitting with alittle sigh of contentment. 

"And everything is right for supper, Martha?" she asked. 

"Yes, Mam, " said Martha. "A little chicken-pie, Mam, and Frenchpotatoes, and honey. I should be making the biscuit now, Mam, if youdidn't need me. "

"Oh no, Martha, " said the old lady, "I don't need anything. We shallhear the wheels when they come. "

She looked out of the window, across the pleasant lawn, at the blueriver, and seemed for a moment as if she were going to ask Marthawhether that were all right. But she said nothing, and the saint in grayprint trotted away to her kitchen. 

"Dear Martha!" said Miss Wealthy, settling herself comfortably among hercushions. "It is a great privilege to have Martha. I do hope these deargirls will not put her out. She grows a little set in her ways as shegrows older, my good Martha. I don't think that blind is _quite_half-way down. It makes the whole room look askew, doesn't it?"

She rose, and pulled the blind straight, patted a tidy on the back of achair, and settled herself among her cushions again, with anothercritical glance at the river. A pause ensued, during which the oldlady's needles clicked steadily; then, at last, the sound of wheels washeard, and putting her work down in exactly the same spot from which shehad taken it up, Miss Wealthy went out on the piazza to welcome heryoung guests. 

Hildegarde sprang lightly from the carriage, and gave her hand to hercompanion to help her out. 

"Dear Cousin Wealthy, " she cried, "here we are, safe and sound. I amcoming to kiss you in one moment. Carefully, Rose dear! Lean on me, so!_there_ you are! now take my arm. Slowly, slowly! See, Cousin Wealthy!see how well she walks! Isn't it delightful?"

"It is, indeed!" said the old lady, heartily, kissing first the glowingcheek and then the pale one, as the girls came up to her. "And how doyou do, my dears? I am very glad indeed to see you. Rose, you look somuch better, I should hardly have known you; and you, Hilda, look likeJune itself. I must call Martha--" But Martha was there, at her elbow. "Oh, Martha! here are the young ladies. "

Hildegarde shook hands warmly with Martha, and Rose gave one of her shy, sweet smiles. 

"This is Miss Hildegarde, " said the old lady; "and this is Miss Rose. Perhaps you will take them up to their rooms now, Martha, and Jeremiahcan take the trunks up. We will have supper, my dears, as soon as youare ready; for I am sure you must be hungry. "

"Yes, we are as hungry as hunters, Cousin Wealthy!" cried Hildegarde. "We shall frighten you with our appetites, I fear. This way, Martha?Yes, in one minute. Rose dear, I will put my arm round you, and you cantake hold of the stair-rail. Slowly now!"

They ascended the stairs slowly, and Hildegarde did not loose her holdof her friend until she had seated her in a comfortable easy-chair inthe pretty chintz bedroom. 

"There, dear!" she said anxiously, stooping to unfasten her cloak. "Areyou very dreadfully tired?"

"Oh no!" replied Rose, cheerfully; "not at all _dreadfully_ tired, onlycomfortably. I ache a little, of course, but--Oh, what a pleasant room!And this chair is comfort itself. "

"The window-seat for me!" cried Hildegarde, tossing her hat on the bed, and then leaning out of the window with both arms on the sill. "Rose, don't move! I forbid you to stir hand or foot. I will tell you while youare resting. There is a river, --a great, wide, beautiful river, justacross the lawn. "

"Well, dear, " said quiet Rose, smiling, "you knew there was a river;your mother told us so. "

"Yes, Goose, I did know it, " cried Hildegarde; "but I had not seen it, and didn't know what it was like. It is all blue, with sparkles all overit, and little brown flurries where the wind strikes it. There arewillows all along the edge--"

"To hang our harps on?" inquired Rose. 

"Precisely!" replied Hildegarde. "And I think--Rose, I _do_ see aboat-house! My dear, this is bliss! We will bathe every morning. Youhave never seen me dive, Rose. "

"I have not, " said Rose; "and it would be a pity to do it out of thewindow, dear, because in the first place I should only see your heels asyou went out, and in the second--"

"Peace, paltry soul!" cried Hilda. "Here comes a scow, loaded with wood. The wood has been wet, and is all yellow and gleaming. 'Scow, '--what anabsurd word! 'Barge' is prettier. "

"It sounds so like Shalott, " said Rose; "I must come and look too. 

 "'By the margin, willow-veiled, Slide the heavy barges, trailed By slow horses. '"

"Yes, it is just like it!" cried Hildegarde. "It is really a redeemingfeature in you, Rose, that you are so apt in your quotations. Say thepart about the river; that is exactly like what I am looking at. "

"Do you say it!" said Rose, coming softly forward, and taking her seatbeside her friend. "I like best to hear you. "

And Hildegarde repeated in a low tone, --

 "Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Through the wave that runs forever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. "

The two girls squeezed each other's hand a little, and looked at theshining river, and straightway forgot that there was anything else to bedone, till a sharp little tinkle roused them from their dream. 

"Oh!" cried Hildegarde. "Rose, how _could_ you let me goa-woolgathering? Just look at my hair!"

"And my hands!" said Rose, in dismay. "And we said we were as hungry ashunters, and would be down in a minute. What will Miss Bond say?"

"Well, it is all the river's fault, " said Hildegarde, splashingvigorously in the basin. "It shouldn't be so lovely! Here, dear, here isfresh water for you. Now the brush! Let me just wobble your hair up foryou, so. There! now you are my pinkest Rose, and I am all right too; sodown we go. "

Miss Wealthy had been seriously disturbed when the girls did not appearpromptly at sound of the tea-bell. She took her seat at the tea-tableand looked it over carefully. "Punctuality is so important, " she said, half to herself and half to Martha, who had just set down theteapot, --"That mat is not _quite_ straight, is it, Martha?--especiallyin young people. I know it makes you nervous, Martha, "--Martha did notlook in the least nervous, --"but it will probably not happen again. Ifthe butter were a _little_ farther this way! Thank you, Martha. Oh, hereyou are, my dears! Sit down, pray! You must be very hungry after--Butprobably you felt the need of resting a little, and to-morrow you willbe quite fresh. "

"No, it wasn't that, Cousin Wealthy, " said Hildegarde, frankly. "I amashamed to say that we were looking out of the window, and the river wasso lovely that we forgot all about supper. Please forgive us this once, for really we are pretty punctual generally. It is part of Papa'smilitary code, you know. "

"True, my dear, true!" said Miss Wealthy, brightening up at once. "Yourfather is very wise. Regular habits are a great privilege, really. Willyou have tea, Hilda dear, or milk?"

"Oh, milk, please!" said Hilda. "I am not to take tea till I amtwenty-one, Cousin Wealthy, nor coffee either. "

"And a very good plan, " said Miss Wealthy, approvingly. "Milk is thenatural beverage--will you cut that pie, dear, and help Rose, andyourself?--for the young. When one is older, however, a cup of tea isvery comforting. None for me, thank you, dear. I have my little dish ofmilk-toast, but I thought the pie would be just right for you youngpeople. Martha's pastry is so _very_ light that a small quantity of itis not injurious. "

"Rose!" said Hildegarde, in tones of hushed rapture, "it is achicken-pie, and it is all for us. Hold your plate, favored one of thegods! A river, a boat-house, and chicken-pie! Cousin Wealthy, I am soglad you asked us to come!"

"Are you, dear?" said Miss Wealthy, looking up placidly from hermilk-toast, "Well, so am I!"

CHAPTER III. 

THE ORCHARD. 

Next morning, when breakfast was over, Miss Wealthy made a littlespeech, giving the two girls the freedom of the place. 

"You will find your own way about, my dears, " she said. "I will onlygive you some general directions. The orchard is to the right, beyondthe garden. There is a pleasant seat there under one of the apple-trees, where you may like to sit. Beyond that are the woods. On the other sideof the house is the barnyard, and the road goes by to the village. Youwill find plenty of flowers all about, and I hope you will amuseyourselves. "

"Oh, indeed we shall, Cousin Wealthy!" cried Hildegarde. "It is delightenough just to breathe this delicious air and look at the river. "

They were sitting on the piazza, from which the lawn sloped down to agreat hedge of Norway fir, just beyond which flowed the broad bluestream of the Kennebec. 

"How about the river, Cousin Wealthy?" asked Hildegarde, timidly. "Ithought I saw a boat-house through the trees. Could we go out to row?"

Miss Wealthy seemed a little flurried by the question. "My dear, " shesaid, and hesitated, --"my dear, have you--do your parents allow you togo on the water? Can you swim?"

"Oh, yes, " said Hildegarde, "I can swim very well, Cousin Wealthy, --atleast, Papa says I can; and I can row and paddle and sail. "

"Oh, not sail!" cried Miss Wealthy, with an odd little catch in herbreath, --"not sail, my dear! I could not--I could not think of that fora moment. But there is a row-boat, " she added, after a pause, --"a boatwhich Jeremiah uses. If Jeremiah thinks she is perfectly safe, you cango out, if you feel quite sure your parents would wish it. "

"Oh, I am very sure, " said Hildegarde; "for I asked Papa, almost thelast thing before we left. Thank you, Cousin Wealthy, so much! We willbe rather quiet this morning, for Rose does not feel very strong; butthis afternoon perhaps we will try the boat. Isn't there something I cando for you, Cousin Wealthy? Can't I help Martha? I can do all kinds ofwork, --can't I, Rose?--and I love it!"

But Martha had a young girl in the kitchen, Miss Wealthy said, whom shewas training to help her; and she herself had letters to write andaccounts to settle. So the two girls sauntered off slowly, arm in arm;Rose leaning on her friend, whose strong young frame seemed able tosupport them both. 

The garden was a very pleasant place, with rhubarb and sunflowers, sweetpeas and mignonette, planted here and there among the rows ofvegetables, just as Jeremiah's fancy suggested. Miss Wealthy's ownflower-beds, trim and gay with geraniums, pansies, and heliotrope, wereunder the dining-room windows; but somehow the girls liked Jeremiah'sgarden best. Hildegarde pulled some sweet peas, and stuck the wingedblossoms in Rose's fair hair, giving a fly-away look to her smoothlocks. Then she began to sniff inquiringly. "Southernwood!" shesaid, --"I smell southernwood somewhere, Rose. Where is it?"

"Yonder, " said Rose, pointing to a feathery bush not far off. 

"Oh! and there is lavender too, Hilda! Do you suppose we may pick some?I do like to have a sprig of lavender in my belt. "

At this moment Jeremiah appeared, wheeling a load of turf. He was "longand lank and brown as is the ribbed sea-sand, " and Hildegarde mentallychristened him the Ancient Mariner on the spot; but he smiled sadly andsaid, "_Good_-mornin', " and seemed pleased when the girls praised hisgarden. "Ee-yus!" he said, with placid melancholy. "I've seen wussplaces. Minglin' the blooms with the truck and herbs was my idee, as youmay say, --'livens up one, and sobers down the other. _She_ laughs at me, but she don't keer, s'long as she has all she wants. Cut ye somemignonette? That's very favoryte with me, --very favoryte. "

He cut a great bunch of mignonette; and Rose, proffering her request forlavender, received a nosegay as big as she could hold in both hands. 

"The roses is just comin' on, " he said. "Over behind them beans theyare. A sight o' roses there'll be in another week. Coreopsis is pooty, too; that's down the other side of the corn. Curus garding, folksthinks; but, there, it's my idee, and she don't keer. "

Much amused, the girls thanked the melancholy prophet, and wandered awayinto the orchard, to find the seat that Miss Wealthy had told them of. 

"Oh, what a lovely, lovely orchard!" cried Hildegarde, in delight; andindeed it was a pretty place. The apple-trees were old, and curiouslygnarled and twisted, bending this way and that, as apple-trees will. Theshort, fine grass was like emerald; there were no flowers at all, onlygreen and brown, with the sunlight flickering through the branchesoverhead. They found the seat, which was curiously wedged into thedouble trunk of the very patriarch of apple-trees. 

"Do look at him!" cried Hildegarde. "He is like a giant with therheumatism. Suppose we call him Blunderbore. What does twist them so, Rose? Look! there is one with a trunk almost horizontal. "

"I don't know, " said Rose, slowly. "Another item for the ignorance list, Hilda. It is growing appallingly long. I really _don't_ know why theytwist so. In the forest they grow much taller than in orchards, and gostraight up. Farmer Hartley has seen one seventy feet high, he says. "

"Let us call it vegetable rheumatism!" said Hildegarde. "How _is_ yourpoor back this morning, ma'am?" She addressed an ancient tree withrespectful sympathy; indeed, it did look like an aged dame bent almostdouble. "Have you ever tried Pond's Extract? I think I must really buy agallon or so for you. And as long as you must bend over, you will notmind if I take a little walk along your suffering spine, and sit on yourarm, will you?"

She walked up the tree, and seated herself on a branch which was crookedlike a friendly arm, making a very comfortable seat. "She's a dear oldlady, Rose!" she cried. "Doesn't mind a bit, but thinks it rather doesher good, --like _massage_, you know. What do you suppose her name is?"

"Dame Crump would do, wouldn't it?" replied Rose, looking critically atthe venerable dame. 

"Of course! and that ferocious old person brandishing three arms overyonder must be Croquemitaine, --

 "'Croquemitaine! Croquemitaine! Ne dinerai pas 'vec toi!'

I think they are rather a savage set, --don't you, Rosy?--all except mydear Dame Crump here. "

"I _know_ they are, " said Rose, in a low voice. "Hush! the three witchesare just behind you, Hilda. Their skinny arms are outstretched to claspyou! Fly, and save yourself from the caldron!"

"Avaunt!" cried Hilda, springing lightly from Dame Crump's shelteringarm. "Ye secret, black, and midnight hags, what is 't ye do?"

"A deed without a name!" muttered Rose, in sepulchral tones. 

"I think it is, indeed!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. "Poor old goutythings! they can only claw the air, like Grandfather Smallweed, andcannot take a single step to clutch me. "

"Just like me, as I was a year ago, " said Rose, smiling. 

"Rose! how can you?" cried Hildegarde, indignantly; "as if you had notalways been a white rosebush. "

"On wheels!" said Rose. "I often think of my dear old chair, and wonderif it misses me. Hildegarde dear!"

"My lamb!" replied Hildegarde, sitting down by her friend and giving hera little hug. 

"I wish you could know how wonderful it all is! I wish--no, I don't wishyou could be lame even for half an hour; but I wish you could just_dream_ that you were lame, and then wake up and find everything rightagain. Having always walked, you cannot know the wonder of it. To thinkthat I can stand up--so! and walk--so! actually one foot before theother, just like other people. Oh! and I used to wonder how they did it. I don't now understand how 'four-leggers, ' as Bubble calls them, moveso many things without getting mixed up. "

"Dear Rose! you are happy, aren't you?" exclaimed Hildegarde, withdelight. 

"Happy!" echoed Rose, her sweet face glowing like her own name-flower. "But I was always happy, you know, dear. Now it is happiness, withfairyland thrown in. I am some wonderful creature, walking throughmiracles; a kind of--Who was the fairy-knight you were telling meabout?"

"Lohengrin?" said Hildegarde. "No, you are more like Una, in the 'FaerieQueene. ' In fact, I think you _are_ Una. "

"And then, " continued Rose, "there is another thing! At least, there area thousand other things, but one that I was thinking of specially justnow, when you named the trees. That was only play to you; but, Hilda, itused to be almost quite real for me, --that sort of thing. Sitting thereas I used, day after day, year after year, mostly alone, --for motherand Bubble were always at work, you know, --you cannot imagine how realall the garden-people, as I called them, were to me. Why, myEglantine--I never told you about Eglantine, Hilda!"

"No, heartless thing! you never did, " said Hildegarde; "and you may tellme this instant. A pretty friend you are, keeping things from me in thatway!"

"She was a fair maiden, " said Rose. "She stood against the wall, just bymy window. She was very lovely and graceful, with long, slender arms. Some people called her a sweetbrier-bush. She was my most intimatefriend, and was always peeping in at the window and calling me to comeout. When I came and sat close beside her in my chair, she would bendover me, and tell me all about her love-affairs, which gave her a greatdeal of trouble. "

"Poor thing!" said Hildegarde, sympathetically. 

"She had two lovers, " continued Rose, dreamily, talking half to herself. "One was Sir Scraggo de Cedar, a tall knight in rusty armor, who stoodvery near her, and loved her to distraction. But she cared nothing forhim, and had given her heart to the South Wind, --the most fickle andtormenting lover you can imagine. Sometimes he was perfectly charming, and wooed her in the most enchanting manner, murmuring soft things inher ear, and kissing and caressing her, till I almost fell in love withhim myself. Then he would leave her alone, --oh! for days and days, --tillshe drooped, poor thing! and was perfectly miserable. And then perhapshe would come again in a fury, and shake and beat her in the mostfrightful manner, tearing her hair out, and sometimes flinging her rightinto the arms of poor Sir Scraggo, who quivered with emotion, but nevertook advantage of the situation. I used to be _very_ sorry for SirScraggo. "

"What a shame!" cried Hildegarde, warmly. "Couldn't you make her carefor the poor dear?"

"Oh, no!" said Rose. "She was very self-willed, that gentle Eglantine, in spite of her soft, pretty ways. There was no moving her. She turnedher back as nearly as she could on Sir Scraggo, and bent farther andfarther toward the south, stretching her arms out as if imploring herheartless lover to stay with her. I fastened her back to the wall oncewith strips of list, for she was spoiling her figure by stooping somuch; but she looked so utterly miserable that I took them off again. Dear Eglantine! I wonder if she misses me. "

"I think she was rather a minx, do you know?" said Hildegarde. "Iprefer Sir Scraggo myself. "

"Well, " replied Rose, "one respected Sir Scraggo very much indeed; buthe was _not_ beautiful, and all the De Cedars are pretty stiff andformal. Then you must remember he was older than Eglantine and I, --everand ever so much older. "

"That does make a difference, " said Hildegarde. "Who were some other ofyour garden people, you funniest Rose?"

"There was Old Moneybags!" replied Rose. "How I did detest that old man!He was a hideous old thorny cactus, all covered with warts and knobs andsharp spines. Dear mother was very proud of him, and she was alwayshoping he would blossom, but he never did. He lived in the house inwinter, but in spring Mother set him out in the flower-bed, just besidethe double buttercup. So when the buttercup blossomed, with its lovelyyellow balls, I played that Old Moneybags, who was an odious old miser, was counting his gold. Then, when the petals dropped, he piled his moneyin little heaps, and finally he buried it. He wasn't very interesting, Old Moneybags, but the buttercups were lovely. Then there were LarryLarkspur and Miss Poppy. I wonder--No! I don't believe you would. "

"What I like about your remarks, " said Hildegarde, "is that they are soclear. What do you mean by believing I wouldn't? I tell you I would!"

"Well, " said Rose, laughing and blushing, "it really isn't anything;only--well, I made a little rhyme about Larry Larkspur and Miss Poppyone summer. I thought of it just now; and first I wondered if it wouldamuse you, and then I decided it wouldn't. "

"_You_ decided, forsooth!" cried Hildegarde. "'"Who are you?" said thecaterpillar. ' I will hear about Larry Larkspur, if you please, withoutmore delay. "

"It really _isn't_ worth hearing!" said Rose. "Still, if you want it youshall have it; so listen!

 "Larry Larkspur, Larry Larkspur, Wears a cap of purple gay; Trim and handy little dandy, Straight and smirk he stands alway. 

 "Larry Larkspur, Larry Larkspur, Saw the Poppy blooming fair; Loved her for her scarlet satin, Loved her for her fringèd hair. 

 "Sent a message by the night-wind: 'Wilt thou wed me, lady gay? For the heart of Larry Larkspur Beats and burns for thee alway. '

 "When the morning 'gan to brighten, Eager glanced he o'er the bed. Lo! the Poppy's leaves had fallen; Bare and brown her ugly head. 

 "Sore amazed stood Larry Larkspur, And his heart with grief was big. 'Woe is me! she was so lovely, Who could guess she wore a wig?'"

Hildegarde was highly delighted with the verses, and clamored for more;but at this moment some one was seen coming toward them through thetrees. The some one proved to be Martha, with her sleeves rolled up, beaming mildly through her spectacles. She carried a tray, on which weretwo glasses of creamy milk and a plate of freshly baked cookies. Suchcookies! crisp and thin, with what Martha called a "pale bake" on them, and just precisely the right quantity of ginger. 

"Miss Rose doesn't look over and above strong, " she explained, as thegirls exclaimed with delight, "and 't would be a pity for her to eatalone. The cookies is fresh, and maybe they're pretty good. "

"Martha, " said Hildegarde, as she nibbled a cooky, "you are a saint!Where do you keep your aureole, for I am sure you have one?"

"There's a pair of 'em, Miss Hilda, " replied Martha. "They build everyyear in the big elm by the back door, and they do sing beautiful. "

CHAPTER IV. 

THE DOCTORS. 

"My dears, " said Miss Wealthy, as they sat down to dinner, --the bellrang on the stroke of one, and the girls were both ready and waiting inthe parlor, which pleased the dear old lady very much, --"my dears, whenI made the little suggestions this morning as to how you should amuseyourselves, I entirely forgot to mention Dr. Abernethy. I cannot imaginehow I should have forgotten it, but Martha assures me that I did. Dr. Abernethy is entirely at your service in the mornings, but I generallyrequire him for an hour in the afternoon. I am sure Rose will be thebetter for his treatment; and I trust you will both find himsatisfactory, though possibly he may seem to you a little slow, for heis not so young as he once was. "

"Dr. --Oh, Cousin Wealthy!" exclaimed Hildegarde, in dismay. "But we areperfectly well! At least--of course, Rose is not strong yet; but she isgaining strength every day, and we have Dr. Flower's directions. Indeed, we don't need any doctor. "

Cousin Wealthy smiled. She enjoyed a little joke as much as any one, andDr. Abernethy was one of her standing jokes. 

"I think, my dear, " she said, "that you will be very glad to availyourself of the Doctor's services when once you know him. Indeed, Ishall make a point of your seeing him once a day, as a rule. " Then, seeing that both girls were thoroughly mystified, she added: "Dr. Abernethy is a very distinguished physician. He gives no medicine, hisinvariable prescription being a little gentle exercise. He lives--inthe stable, my dears, and he has four legs and a tail. "

"Oh! oh! Cousin Wealthy, how could you frighten us so!" criedHildegarde. "You must be kissed immediately, as a punishment. " She flewaround the table, and kissed the soft cheek, like a crumpled blush rose. "A horse! How delightful! Rose, we were wishing that we might drive, weren't we? And what a funny, nice name! Dr. Abernethy! He was a greatEnglish doctor, wasn't he? And I was wondering if some stupid countrydoctor had stolen his name. "

"I had rather a severe illness a few years ago, " said Miss Wealthy, "andwhen I was recovering from it my physician advised me to try drivingregularly, saying that he should resign in favor of Dr. Horse. So Ibought this excellent beast, and named him Dr. Abernethy, after thefamous physician, whom I had seen once in London, when I was a littlegirl. "

"It was he who used to do such queer things, wasn't it?" saidHildegarde. "Did he do anything strange when you saw him, CousinWealthy?"

"Nothing really strange, " said Miss Wealthy, "though it seemed so to methen. He came to see my mother, who was ill, and bolted first into theroom where I sat playing with my doll. 

"'Who's this? who's this?' he said, in a very gruff voice. 'Little girl!Humph! Tooth-ache, little girl?'

"'No, sir, ' I answered faintly, being frightened nearly out of my wits. 

"'Head-ache, little girl?'

"'No, sir. '

"'Stomach-ache, little girl?'

"'Oh, no, sir!'

"'Then take that!' and he thrust a little paper of chocolate drops intomy hand, and stumped out of the room as quickly as he had come in. Ithought he was an ogre at first; for I was only seven years old, and hadjust been reading 'Jack and the Beanstalk;' but the chocolate dropsreassured me. "

"What an extraordinary man!" exclaimed Rose. "And was he a very gooddoctor?"

"Oh, wonderful!" replied Miss Wealthy. "People came from all parts ofthe world to consult him, and he could not even go out in the streetwithout being clutched by some anxious patient. They used to tell afunny story about an old woman's catching him in this way one day, whenhe was in a great hurry, --but he was always in a hurry, --and pouring outa long string of symptoms, so fast that the doctor could not get in aword edgewise. At last he shouted 'Stop!' so loud that all the people inthe street turned round to stare. The old lady stopped in terror, andDr. Abernethy bade her shut her eyes and put her tongue out; then, whenshe did so, he walked off, and left her standing there in the middle ofthe sidewalk with her tongue out. I don't know whether it is true, though. "

"Oh, I hope it is!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. "It is too funny not tobe true. "

"We had a very queer doctor at Glenfield some years ago, " said Rose. "Hemust have been just the opposite of Dr. Abernethy. He was very tall andvery slow, and spoke with the queerest drawl, using always the longestwords he could find. I never shall forget his coming to our house oncewhen Bubble had the measles. He had come a day or two before, but I hadnot seen him. This time, however, I was in the room. He sat down by thebed, and began stroking his long chin. It was the longest chin I eversaw, nearly as long as the rest of his face. 

"'And is there any amelioration of the symptoms this morning?' he askedMother, --'ame-e-lioration?' (He was very fond of repeating any word thathe thought sounded well. )

"Poor dear mother hadn't the faintest idea what amelioration was; andshe stammered and colored, and said she hadn't noticed any, and didn't_think_ the child had it. But luckily I was in the 'Fifth Reader' then, and had happened to have 'amelioration' in my spelling-lesson only a fewdays before; so I spoke up and said, 'Oh, yes, Dr. Longman, he is agreat deal better, and he is really hungry to-day. '

"'Ah!' said Dr. Longman, 'craves food, does he?--cra-aves food!'

"Just then Bubble's patience gave out. He was getting better, and itmade him _so_ cross, poor dear! he snapped out, in his funny way, 'I'vegot a bile comin' on my nose, and it hurts like fury!'

"Dr. Longman stooped forward, put on his spectacles, and looked at theboil carefully. 'Ah!' he said, 'furunculus, --furunculus! Is it--ah--isit excru-ciating?'

"I can't describe the way in which he pronounced the last word. As hesaid it, he dropped his head, and looked over his spectacles at Bubblein a way that was perfectly irresistible. Bubble gave a sort of howl, and disappeared under the bedclothes; and I had a fit of coughing, whichmade Mother very anxious. Dear mother! she never could see anythingfunny about Dr. Longman. "

At this moment Martha entered, bringing the dessert, --a wonderfulalmond-pudding, such as only Martha could make. She stopped a moment, holding the door as if to prevent some one's coming in. 

"Here's the Doctor wants terrible to come in, Mam!" she said. "Will Ilet him?"

"Yes, certainly, " said Miss Wealthy, smiling. "Let the good Doctor in!"

The girls looked up in amazement, half expecting to see a horse's headappear in the doorway; but instead, a majestic black "coon" cat, withwaving feathery tail and large yellow eyes, walked solemnly in, andseeing the two strangers, stopped to observe them. 

"My dears, this is the other Doctor!" said Miss Wealthy, bending tocaress the new-comer "Dr. Samuel Johnson, at your service. He is one ofthe most important members of the family. Doctor, I hope you will bevery friendly to these young ladies, and not take one of your absurddislikes to either of them. All depends upon the first impression, mydears!" she added, in an undertone, to the girls. "He is forming hisopinion now, and nothing will ever alter it. "

Quite a breathless pause ensued; while the magnificent cat stoodmotionless, turning his yellow eyes gravely from one to the other of thegirls. At length Hildegarde could not endure his gaze any longer, andshe said hastily but respectfully, "Yes, sir! I _have_ read 'Pilgrim'sProgress, ' I assure you!--read it through and through, a number oftimes, and love it dearly. "

Dr. Johnson instantly advanced, and rubbing his head against her dress, purred loudly. He then went round to Rose, who sat opposite, and madethe same demonstration of good-will to her. 

"Dear pussy!" said Rose, stroking him gently, and scratching him behindone ear in a very knowing manner. 

Miss Wealthy drew a long breath of satisfaction. "It is all right, " shesaid. "Martha, he is delighted with the young ladies. Dear Doctor! heshall have some almond-pudding at once. Bring me his saucer, please, Martha!"

Martha brought a blue saucer; but Miss Wealthy looked at it withsurprise and disapproval. 

"That is not the Doctor's saucer, Martha, " she said. "Is it possiblethat you have forgotten? He has _always_ had the odd yellow saucer eversince he was a kitten. "

"I'm sorry, Mam, " said Martha, gently. "Jenny broke the yellow saucerthis morning, Mam, as she was washing it after the Doctor's breakfast. I'm very sorry it should have happened, Mam. "

"_Broke the yellow saucer!_" cried Miss Wealthy. Her voice was as softas ever, but Hildegarde and Rose both felt as if the Russians hadentered Constantinople. There was a moment of dreadful silence, andthen Miss Wealthy tried to smile, and began to help to thealmond-pudding. "Yes, I am sure you are sorry, Martha!" shesaid;--"Hilda, my dear, a little pudding?--and probably Jenny is sorrytoo. You like the sauce, dear, don't you? We think Martha'salmond-pudding one of her best. I should not have minded so much if ithad been any other, but this was an odd one, and seemed so appropriate, on account of Hogarth's 'Industrious Apprentice' done in brown on theinside. Is it quite sweet enough for you, my dear Rose?"

This speech was somewhat bewildering; but after a moment Rose succeededin separating the part that belonged to her, and said that the puddingwas most delicious. 

"Jenny broke a cup last winter, did she not, Martha?" asked MissWealthy. 

"A very small cup, Mam, " replied Martha, deprecatingly. "That's all shehas broken since she came. She's young, you know, Mam; and she says thesaucer just slipped out of her hand, and fell on the bricks. "

Miss Wealthy shivered a little, as if she heard the crash of the brokenchina. "I cannot remember that you have broken anything, Martha, " shesaid, "in thirty years; and you were young when you came to me. But wewill not say anything more, and I dare say Jenny will be more careful infuture. The pudding is very good, Martha; and that will do, thank you. "Martha withdrew, and Miss Wealthy turned to the girls with a sad littlesmile. "Martha is very exact, " she said. "A thing of this sort troublesher extremely. Very methodical, my good Martha!"

"Hildegarde, " said Rose, wishing to turn the subject and cheer thespirits of their kind hostess, "what did you mean, just now, by tellingDr. Johnson that you had read 'Pilgrim's Progress'? I am much puzzled!"

Hildegarde laughed. "Oh!" she said, "he understood, but I will explainfor your benefit. When I was a little girl I was not inclined to like'Pilgrim's Progress' at first. I thought it rather dull, and liked theFairy Book better. I said so to Papa one day; and instead of replying, he went to the bookcase, and taking down Boswell's 'Life of Johnson, ' heread me a little story. I think I can say it in the very words of thebook, they made so deep an impression on me: 'Dr. Johnson one day tookBishop Percy's little daughter on his knee, and asked her what shethought of 'Pilgrim's Progress. ' The child answered that she had notread it. 'No!' replied the Doctor; 'then I would not give one farthingfor you!' And he set her down, and took no further notice of her. ' WhenPapa explained to me, " continued Hildegarde, laughing, "what a great manDr. Johnson was, it seemed to me very dreadful that he should think me, or another little girl like me, not worth a farthing. So I set to workwith right good-will at 'Pilgrim's Progress;' and when I was once fairly_in_ the story, of course I couldn't put it down till I had finishedit. "

"Your father is a very sensible man, " said Miss Wealthy, approvingly. "'Pilgrim's Progress' is an important part of a child's education, certainly! Let me give you a little more pudding, Hilda, my dear! No!nor you, Rose? Then, if the Doctor is ready, suppose we go into theparlor. "

They found the parlor very cool and pleasant, with the blinds, as usual, drawn half-way down. Miss Wealthy drew one blind half an inch lower, compared it with the others, and pushed it up an eighth of an inch. 

"And what are you going to do with yourselves this afternoon, girlies?"she asked, settling herself in her armchair, and smelling of herpansies, which, as usual, stood on the little round table at her elbow. 

"Rose must go and lie down at once!" said Hildegarde, decidedly. "Shemust lie down for two hours every day at first, Dr. Flower says, and onehour by and by, when she is a great deal stronger. And I--oh, I shallread to her a little, till she begins to be sleepy, and then I shallwrite to Mamma and wander about. This is such a _happy_ place, CousinWealthy! One does not need to do anything in particular; it is enoughjust to be alive and well. " Then she remembered her manners, and added:"But isn't there something I can do for you, Cousin Wealthy? Can't Iwrite some notes for you, --I often write notes for Mamma, --or wind someworsted, or do something useful? I have been playing all day, youknow. "

Miss Wealthy looked pleased. "Thank you, my dear!" she said warmly. "Ishall be very glad of your help sometimes; but to-day I really havenothing for you to do, and besides, I think the first day ought to beall play. If you can make yourself happy in this quiet place, that isall I shall ask of you to-day. I shall probably take a little napmyself, as I often do after dinner, sitting here in my chair. "

Obeying Hildegarde's imperative nod, Rose left her seat by the window, half reluctantly, and moved slowly toward the door. "It seems wicked tolie down on such a day!" she murmured; "but I suppose I must. "

As she spoke, she heard a faint, a very faint sigh from Miss Wealthy. Feeling instinctively that something was wrong, she turned and saw thatthe tidy on the back of the chair she had been sitting in had slippeddown. She went back quickly, straightened it, patted it a little, andthen with an apologetic glance and smile at the old lady, went to joinHildegarde. 

"A very sweet, well-mannered girl!" was Miss Wealthy's mental comment, as her eyes rested contentedly on the smooth rectangular lines of thetidy. "Two of the sweetest girls, in fact, that I have seen for a goodwhile. Mildred has brought up her daughter extremely well; and when onethinks of it, she herself has developed in a most extraordinary manner. A most notable and useful woman, Mildred! Who would have thought it?"

Rose slept in the inner bedroom, which opened directly out ofHildegarde's, with a curtained doorway between. It was a pretty room, and very appropriate for Rose, as there were roses on the wall-paper andon the soft gray carpet. Here the ex-invalid, as she began to callherself, lay down on the cool white bed, in the pretty summer wrapperof white challis, dotted with rosebuds, which had been Mrs. Grahame'sparting present. Hildegarde put a light shawl over her, and then satdown on the window-seat. 

"Shall I read or sing, Rosy?" she asked. 

"Oh! but are you quite sure you don't want to do something else, dear?"asked Rose. 

"Absolutely sure!" said Hildegarde. "Quite positively sure!"

"Then, " said Rose, "sing that pretty lullaby that you found in the oldsong-book the other day. So pretty! it is the one that Patient Grissilsings to her babies, isn't it?"

So Hilda sang, as follows:--

 "'Golden slumbers kiss your eyes, Smiles awake you when you rise. Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry, And I will sing a lullaby. Rock them, rock them, lullaby. 

 "'Care is heavy, therefore sleep you; You are care, and care must keep you. Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry, And I will sing a lullaby. Rock them, rock them, lullaby. '"

Hildegarde glanced at the bed, and saw that Rose's eyes were justclosing. Still humming the last lines of the lullaby, she cast about inher mind for something else; and there came to her another song ofquaint old Thomas Dekker, which she loved even more than the other. Shesang softly, --

 "'Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? O sweet Content! Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexèd? O Punishment! Dost laugh to see how fools are vexèd To add to golden numbers golden numbers? O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content!

 "'Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring? O sweet Content! Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears? O Punishment! Then he that patiently Want's burden bears No burden bears, but is a king, a king. O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content. '"

Once more Hildegarde glanced at the bed; then, rising softly and stillhumming the lovely refrain, she slipped out of the room; for Rose, the"sweet content" resting like sunshine on her face, was asleep. 

CHAPTER V. 

ON THE RIVER. 

Hildegarde went softly downstairs, and stood in the doorway for a fewminutes, looking about her. The house was very still; nothing seemed tobe stirring, or even awake, except herself. She peeped into the parlor, and saw Cousin Wealthy placidly sleeping in her easy-chair. At her feet, on a round hassock, lay Dr. Johnson, also sleeping soundly. "It is theenchanted palace, " said Hildegarde to herself; "only the princess hasgrown old in the hundred years, --but so prettily old!--and the princewould have to be a stately old gentleman to match her. " She went out onthe lawn; still there was no sound, save the chirping of grasshoppersand crickets. It was still the golden prime of a perfect June day; whatwould be the most beautiful thing to do where all was beauty? Read, orwrite letters? No! that she could do when the glory had begun to fade. She walked about here and there, --"just enjoying herself, " she said. Shetouched the white heads of the daisies; but did not pick them, becausethey looked so happy. She put her arms round the most beautifulelm-tree, and gave it a little hug, just to thank it for being sostately and graceful, and for bending its branches over her so lovingly. Then a butterfly came fluttering by. It was a Camberwell Beauty, andHildegarde followed it about a little as it hovered lazily from onedaisy to another. 

"Last year at this time, " she said, thinking aloud, "I didn't know whata Camberwell Beauty was. I didn't know any butterflies at all; and ifany one had said 'Fritillary' to me, I should have thought it wassomething to eat. " This disgraceful confession was more than the Beautycould endure, and he fluttered away indignant. 

"I don't wonder!" said the girl. "But you'd better take care, my dear. Iknow you now, and I don't _think_ Bubble has more than two of your kindin his collection. I promised to get all the butterflies and moths Icould for the dear lad, and if you are too superior, I may begin withyou. "

At this moment a faint creak fell on her ear, coming from the directionof the garden. "As of a wheelbarrow!" she said. "Jeremiah!--boat!--river!--_now_ I know what I was wanting to do. " Sheran round to the garden; and there, to be sure, was Jeremiah, wheelingoff a huge load of weeds. 

"Oh, Jeremiah!" said Hildegarde, eagerly, "is the--do you think the boatis safe?"

[Illustration: "'DO SAY IT'S ALL RIGHT, JEREMIAH!'"]

Jeremiah put down his load and looked at her with sad surprise. "Theboat?" he repeated. "She's all safe! I was down to the wharf thismornin'. Nobody's had her out, 's I know of. "

"Oh, I didn't mean that!" said Hildegarde, laughing. "I mean, is shesafe for me to go in? Miss Bond said that I could go out on the river, if _you_ said it was all right. _Do_ say it's all right, Jeremiah!"

Jeremiah never smiled, but his melancholy lightened several shades. "She's right enough, " he said, --"the boat. She isn't hahnsome, but she'sstiddy 's a rock. _She_ don't like boats, any way o' the world, but I'lltake ye down and get her out for ye. "

Rightly conjecturing that the last "her" referred to the boat, Hildegarde gladly followed the Ancient Mariner down the path that slopedfrom the garden, through a green pasture, round to the river-bank. Hereshe found the boat-house, whose roof she had seen from her window, anda gray wharf with moss-grown piers. The tide was high, and it tookJeremiah only a few minutes to pull the little green boat out, and sether rocking on the smooth water. 

"Oh, thank you!" said Hildegarde. "I am so much obliged!"

"No need ter!" responded Jeremiah, politely. "Ye've handled a boatbefore, have ye?"

"Oh, yes, " she said. "I don't think I shall have any trouble. " And asshe spoke, she stepped lightly in, and seating herself, took the oarsthat he handed her. "And which is the prettiest way to row, Jeremiah, --up river, or down?"

Jeremiah meditated. "Well, " he said, "I don't hardly know as I canrightly tell. Some thinks one way's pooty; some thinks t' other. Both of'em 's sightly, to my mind. "

"Then I shall try both, " said Hildegarde, laughing. "Good-by, Jeremiah!I will bring the boat back safe. "

The oars dipped, and the boat shot off into midstream. Jeremiah lookedafter it a few minutes, and then turned back toward the house. "_She_knows what she's about!" he said to himself. 

Near the bank the water had been a clear, shining brown, with thepebbles showing white and yellow through it; but out here in the middleof the river it was all a blaze and ripple and sparkle of blue and gold. Hildegarde rested on her oars, and sat still for a few minutes, baskingin the light and warmth; but soon she found the glory too strong, andpulled over to the other side, where high steep banks threw a shadow onthe water. Here the water was very deep, and the rocks showed as clearand sharp beneath it as over it. Hildegarde rowed slowly along, sometimes touching the warm stone with her hand. She looked down, andsaw little minnows and dace darting about, here and there, up and down. "How pleasant to be a fish!" she thought. "There comes one up out of thewater. Plop! Did you get the fly, old fellow?

 "'They wriggled their tails; In the sun glanced their scales. '"

Then she tried to repeat "Saint Anthony's Sermon to the Fishes, " ofwhich she was very fond. 

 "Sharp-snouted pikes, Who keep fighting like tikes, Now swam up harmonious To hear Saint Antonius. No sermon beside Had the pikes so edified. "

Presently something waved in the shadow, --something moving, among thestill reflections of the rocks. Hildegarde looked up. There, growing ina cranny of the rock above her, was a cluster of purple bells, noddingand swaying on slender thread-like stems. They were so beautiful thatshe could only sit still and look at them at first, with eyes ofdelight. But they were so friendly, and nodded in such a cheerful way, that she soon felt acquainted with them. 

"You dears!" she cried; "have you been waiting there, just for me tocome and see you?"

The harebells nodded, as if there were no doubt about it. 

"Well, here I am!" Hildegarde continued; "and it was very nice of you tocome. How do you like living on the rock there? He must be very proud ofyou, the old brown giant, and I dare say you enjoy the water and thelights and shadows, and would not stay in the woods if you could. If Iwere a flower, I should like to be one of you, I think. Good-by, dearpretties! I should like to take you home to Rose, but it would be awickedness to pick you. "

She kissed her hand to the friendly blossoms, and they nodded a pleasantgood-by, as she floated slowly down stream. A little farther on, shecame to a point of rock that jutted out into the river; on it a singlepine stood leaning aslant, throwing a perfect double of itself on theglassy water. Hildegarde rested in the shadow. "To be in a boat and in atree at the same moment, " she thought, "is a thing that does not happento every one. Rose will not believe me when I tell her; yet here are thebranches all around me, perfect, even to the smallest twig. Query, am Ia bird or a fish? Here is actually a nest in the crotch of thesebranches, but I fear I shall find no eggs in it. " Turning the point ofrock, she found on the other side a fairy cove, with a tiny patch ofsilver sand, and banks of fern coming to the water's edge on eitherside. Some of the ferns dipped their fronds in the clear water, whiletaller ones peeped over their heads, trying to catch a glimpse of theirown reflection. 

Hildegarde's keen eyes roved among the green masses, seeking thedifferent varieties, --botrychium, lady-fern, delicate hart's-tongue;behind these, great nodding ostrich-ferns, bending their stately plumesover their lowlier sisters; beyond these again a tangle of brake runningup into the woods. "Why, it is a fern show!" she thought. "This must bethe exhibition room for the whole forest. Visitors will please not touchthe specimens!"

She pulled close to the bank. Instantly there was a rustle and a flutteramong the ferns; a little brown bird flew out, and perching on thenearest tree, scolded most violently. Very carefully Hildegarde drewthe ferns aside, and lo! a wonderful thing, --a round nest, neatly builtof moss and tiny twigs; and in it four white eggs spotted with brown. 

"It is too good to be true, " thought the girl. "I am asleep, and I shallwake in a moment. I haven't done anything to deserve seeing this. Roseis good enough; I wish she were here. "

But the little brown bird was by this time in a perfect frenzy ofmaternal alarm; and very reluctantly, with an apology to the angrymatron, Hildegarde let the ferns swing back into place, and pulled theboat away from the bank. On the whole, it seemed the most beautifulthing she had ever seen; but everything was so beautiful!

The girl's heart was very full of joy and thankfulness as she rowedalong. Life was so full, so wonderful, with new wonders, new beauties, opening for her every day. "Let all that hath life praise the Lord!" shemurmured softly; and the very silence seemed to fill with love andpraise. Then her thoughts went back to the time, a little more than ayear ago, when she neither knew nor cared about any of these things;when "the country" meant to her a summer watering-place, where one wentfor two or three months, to wear the prettiest of light dresses, and toride and drive and walk on the beach. Her one idea of life was the lifeof cities, --of _one_ city, New York. A country-girl, if she ever thoughtof such a thing, meant simply an ignorant, coarse, common girl, who hadno advantages. No advantages! and she herself, all the time, did notknow one tree from another. She had been the cleverest girl in school, and she could not tell a robin's note from a vireo's; as for thewood-thrush, she had never heard of it. A flower to her meant ahot-house rose; a bird was a bird; a butterfly was a butterfly. Allother insects, the whole winged host that fills the summer air with lifeand sound, were included under two heads, "millers" and "bugs. "

"No, not _quite_ so bad as that!" she cried aloud, laughing, though hercheeks burned at her own thoughts. "I _did_ know bees and wasps, and I_think_ I knew a dragon-fly when I saw him. "

But for the rest, there seemed little to say in her defence. She wasjust like Peter Bell, she thought; and she repeated Wordsworth'slines, --

 "A primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more. "

Here was this little brown bird, for example. Bird and song and eggs, all together could not tell her its name. She drew from her pocket alittle brown leather note-book, and wrote in it, "Four white eggs, speckled with brown; brown bird, small, nest of fine twigs, onriver-bank;" slipped it in her pocket again, and rowed on, feelingbetter. After all, it was so _very_ much better to know that one hadbeen a goose, than not to know it! Now that her eyes were once open, wasshe not learning something new every day, almost every hour?

She rowed on now with long strokes, for the bank was steep and rockyagain, and there were no more fairy coves. Soon, however, she came to anisland, --a little round island in the middle of the river, thicklycovered with trees. This was a good place to turn back at, for Rosewould be awake by this time and looking for her. First, however, shewould row around the island, and consider it from all sides. 

The farther side showed an opening in the trees, and a pretty littledell, shaded by silver birches, --a perfect place for a picnic, thoughtHildegarde. She would bring Rose here some day, if good Martha wouldmake them another chicken-pie; perhaps Cousin Wealthy would come too. Dear Cousin Wealthy! how good and kind and pretty she was! One would notmind growing old, if one could be sure of being good and pretty, andhaving everybody love one. 

At this moment, as Hildegarde turned her boat up river, something veryastonishing happened. Not ten yards away from her, a huge body shot upout of the water, described a glittering arc, and fell again, disappearing with a splash which sent the spray flying in all directionsand made the rocks echo. Hildegarde sat quite still for several minutes, petrified with amazement, and, it must be confessed, with fear. Who everheard of such a thing as this? A fish? Why, it was as big as a youngwhale! Only whales didn't come up rivers, and she had never heard oftheir jumping out of water in this insane way. Suppose the creatureshould take it into his head to leap again, and should fall into theboat? At this thought our heroine began to row as fast as she could, taking long strokes, and making the boat fairly fly through the water;though, as she said to herself, it would not make any difference, if herenemy were swimming in the same direction. 

Presently, however, she heard a second splash behind her, and turning, saw the huge fish just disappearing, at some distance down river. Sherecovered her composure, and in a few minutes was ready to laugh at herown terrors. 

Homeward now, following the west bank, as she had gone down along theeast. This side was pretty, too, though there were no rocks nor fernycoves. On the contrary, the water was quite shallow, and full of brownweeds, which brushed softly against the boat. Not far from the bank shesaw the highway, looking white and dusty, with the afternoon sun lyingon it. "No dust on my road!" she said exultingly; "and no hills!" sheadded, as she saw a wagon, at some distance, climbing an almostperpendicular ascent. "I wonder what these water-plants are! Rose wouldknow, of course. "

Now came the willows that she had seen from the window, --the "marginwillow-veiled" that had reminded her of the Lady of Shalott. It waspleasant to row under them, letting the cool, fragrant leaves brushagainst her face. Here, too, were sweet-scented rushes, of which shegathered an armful for Rose, who loved them; and in this place she madethe acquaintance of a magnificent blue dragon-fly, which alighted onher oar as she lifted it from the water, and showed no disposition todepart. His azure mail glittered in the sunlight; his gauzy wings, as hefurled and unfurled them deliberately, were like cobwebs powdered withsnow. He evidently expected to be admired, and Hildegarde could notdisappoint him. 

"Fair sir, " she said courteously, "I doubt not that you are the Lancelotof dragon-flies. Your armor is the finest I ever saw; doubtless, it hasbeen polished by some lily maid of a white butterfly, or she might be apeach-blossom moth, --daintiest of all winged creatures. The sight of youfills my heart with rapture, and I fain would gaze on you for hours. Natheless, fair knight, time presses, and if you _would_ remove yourchivalrous self from my unworthy oar, --really not a fit place for yourknighthood, --I should get on faster. "

Sir Lancelot deigning no attention to this very civil speech, shesplashed her other oar in the water, and exclaimed, "Hi!" sharply, whereupon the gallant knight spread his shining wings and departed inwrath. 

And now the boat-house was near, and the beautiful, beautiful time wasover. Hildegarde took two or three quick strokes, and then let the boatdrift on toward the wharf, while she leaned idly back and trailed herhand in the clear water. It had been so perfect, so lovely, she was veryloath to go on shore again. But the thought of Rose came, --sweet, patient Rose, wondering where her Hilda was; and then she rowed quicklyon, and moored the boat, and clambered lightly up the wharf. 

"Good-by, good boat!" she cried. "Good-by, dear beautiful river! I shallsee you to-morrow, the day after, every other day while I am here. Ihave been happy, happy, happy with you. Good-by!" And with a final waveof her hand, Hildegarde ran lightly up the path that led to the house. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A MORNING DRIVE. 

Punctually at ten o'clock the next morning Dr. Abernethy stood beforethe door, with a neat phaeton behind him; and the girls were summonedfrom the piazza, where Rose was taking her French lesson. 

"My dears, " said Miss Wealthy, "are you ready? You said ten o'clock, andthe clock has already struck. "

"Oh, yes, Cousin Wealthy!" cried Hildegarde, starting up, and droppingone book on the floor and another on the chair. "We are comingimmediately. Rose, _nous allons faire une promenade en voiture! Répétezcette phrase!_"

"_Nous allong_--" began Rose, meekly; but she was cut short in herrepetition. 

"Not _allong_, dear, _allons_, _ons_. Keep your mouth open, and don'tlet your tongue come near the roof of your mouth after the _ll_. _Allons!_ Try once more. "

"You need not wait, Jeremiah, " said Miss Wealthy, in a voice that triednot to be plaintive. "I dare say the young ladies will be ready in aminute or two, and I will stand by the Doctor till they come. "

Hildegarde heard, smote her breast, flew upstairs for their hats and ashawl and pillow for Rose. In three minutes they were in the carriage, but not till a kiss and a whispered apology from Hildegarde had driventhe slight cloud--not of vexation, but of wondering sadness; it seemedsuch a strange thing, not to be ready and waiting when Dr. Abernethycame to the door--from Miss Wealthy's kind face. 

"Good-by, dear Cousin Wealthy!" and "Good-by, dear Miss Bond!" cried thetwo happy girls; and off they drove in high spirits, while Miss Wealthywent back to the piazza and picked up the French books, wiped themcarefully, and then went upstairs and put them in the little bookcase inHildegarde's room. 

"She is a very dear girl, " she said, shaking her head; "a littleheedless, but perhaps all girls are. Why, Mildred--oh! but Mildred wasan exception. I suppose, " she added, "they call me an old maid. Verylikely. Not these girls, --for they are too well-mannered, --but people. An old maid!" Miss Wealthy sighed a little, and put her hand up to thepansy breastpin, --a favorite gesture of hers; and then she went into thehouse, to make a new set of bags for the curtain-tassels. 

Meanwhile the girls were driving along, looking about them, andenjoying themselves immensely. Jeremiah had given them directions for adrive "just about _so_ long, " and they knew that they were to turn threetimes to the left and never to the right. And first they went up a hill, from the top of which they saw "all the kingdoms of the earth, " as Rosesaid. The river valley was behind them, and they could see the silverstream here and there, gleaming between its wooded banks. Beyond wereblue hills, fading into the blue of the sky. But before them--oh! beforethem was the wonder. A vast circle, hill and dale and meadow, all shutin by black, solemn woods; and beyond the woods, far, far away, a rangeof mountains, whose tops gleamed white in the sunlight. 

"There is snow on them, " said Rose. "Oh, Hildegarde! they must be theWhite Mountains. Jeremiah told me that we could see them from here. That highest peak must be Mount Washington. Oh, to think of it!"

They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the mountains, which laylike giants at rest. 

"Rose, " said Hildegarde, at length, "the Great Carbuncle is there, hidden in some crevice of those mountains; and the Great Stone Face isthere, and oh! so many wonderful things. Some day we will go there, youand I; sometime when you are quite, quite strong, you know. And we willsee the Flume and the wonderful Notch. You remember Hawthorne's story ofthe 'Ambitious Guest'? I think it is one of the most beautiful of all. Perhaps--who knows?--we may find the Great Carbuncle. " They were silentagain; but presently Dr. Abernethy, who cared nothing whatever aboutmountains or carbuncles, whinnied, and gave a little impatient shake. 

"Of course!" said Hildegarde. "Poor dear! he was hot, wasn't he? and theflies bothered him. Here is our turn to the left; a pine-tree at thecorner, --yes, this must be it! Good-by, mountains! Be sure to stay theretill the next time we come. "

"What was that little poem about the Greek mountains that you told methe other day?" asked Rose, as they drove along, --"the one you havecopied in your commonplace book. You said it was a translation from somemodern Greek poet, didn't you?"

"Yes, " said Hildegarde; "but I don't know what poet. I found it in abook of Dr. Felton's at home. "

She thought a moment, and then repeated the verses, --

 "'Why are the mountains shadowed o'er? Why stand they darkened grimly? Is it a tempest warring there, Or rain-storm beating on them?

 "'It is no tempest warring there, No rain-storm beating on them, But Charon sweeping over them, And with him the departed. '"

"Look!" she cried, a few moments after. "There is just such acloud-shadow sweeping over that long hill on the left. Is it true, Iwonder? I never see those flying shadows without thinking of 'Charonsweeping over them. ' It is such a comfort, Rose, that we like the samethings, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is!" said Rose, heartily. "But, oh! Hilda dear, stop amoment! There is some yellow clover. Why, I had no idea it grew so farnorth as this!"

"Yellow clover!" repeated Hildegarde, looking about her. "Who ever heardof yellow clover? I don't see any. "

"No, dear, " said Rose; "it does not grow in the sides of buggies, noreven on stone-walls. If you could bend your lofty gaze to the ditch bythe roadside, you might possibly see it. "

"Oh, there!" said Hildegarde, laughing. "Take the reins, Miss Impudence, and I will get them. " She sprang lightly out, and returned with ahandful of yellow blossoms. 

"Are they really clover?" she asked, examining them curiously. "I had noidea there were more than two kinds, red and white. "

"There are eight kinds, child of the city, " said Rose, "beside melilot, which is a kind of clover-cousin. This yellow is the hop-clover. Dearme! how it does remind me of my Aunt Caroline. "

"And how, let me in a spirit of love inquire, does it resemble your AuntCaroline? Is she yellow?"

"She was, poor dear!" replied Rose. "She has been dead now--oh! a longtime. She was an aunt of Mother's; and once she had the jaundice, andit seems to me she was always yellow after that. But that was not all, Hilda. There was an old handbook of botany among Father's books, and Iused to read it a great deal, and puzzle over the long words. I alwaysliked long words, even when I was a little wee girl. Well, one day I wasreading, and Aunt Caroline happened to come in. She despised reading, and thought it was an utter waste of time, and that I ought to sew orknit all the time, since I could not help Mother with the housework. Shewas very practical herself, and a famous housekeeper. So she looked atme, and frowned, and said, 'Well, Pink, mooning away over a book asusual? Useless rubbish! yer ma'd ought to keep ye at work. ' I didn't sayanything; I never said much to Aunt Caroline, because I knew she didn'tlike me, and I suppose I was rather spoiled by every one else being_too_ good to me. But I looked down at my old book, which was open at'Trefolium: Clover. ' And there I read--oh, Hilda, it is really too badto tell!--I read: 'The teeth bristle-form'--and hers did stick outnearly straight!--'corolla mostly withering or persistent; theclaws'--and then I began to laugh, for it was _exactly_ like AuntCaroline herself; she was _so_ withering, and _so_ persistent! And I satthere and giggled, a great girl of thirteen, till I got perfectlyhysterical. The more I laughed, the angrier she grew, of course; till atlast she went out into the kitchen and slammed the door after her. But Iheard her telling Mother that that gal of hers appeared to be losingsuch wits as she had, --not that 't was any great loss, as fur as shecould see. Wasn't that dreadful, Hildegarde? Of course I was wheeledover to her house the next day, and begged her pardon; but she was stillwithering and persistent, though she said, 'Very excusable!' at last. "

"Why, Rose!" said Hildegarde, laughing. "I didn't suppose you were_ever_ naughty, even when you were a baby. "

"Oh, indeed I was!" answered Rose; "just as naughty as any one else, Isuppose. Did I ever tell you how I came near making poor Bubble deaf?That wasn't exactly naughty, because I didn't mean to do anything bad;but it was funny. I must have been about five years old, and I used tosit in a sort of little chair-cart that Father made for me. One dayMother was washing, and she set me down beside the baby's cradle (thatwas Bubble, of course), and told me to watch him, and to call her if hecried. Well, for a while, Mother said, all was quiet. Then she heardBaby fret a little, and then came a queer sort of noise, she could nottell what, and after that quiet again. So she thought what a nice, helpful little girl I was getting to be; and when she came in she said, 'Well, Pinkie, you stopped the baby's fretting, didn't you?'

"'Oh, yes, Mother!' I said, as pleased as possible. 'I roared in hisear!' You may imagine how frightened Mother was; but fortunately it didhim no harm. "

Here the road dipped down into a gully, and Dr. Abernethy had to pickhis way carefully among loose stones. Presently the stone-walls gaveplace to a most wonderful kind of fence, --a kind that even country-bredRose had never seen before. When the great trees, the giants of the oldforest, had been cut, and the ground cleared for farm-lands andpastures, their stumps had been pulled up by the roots; and these roots, vast, many-branched, twisted into every imaginable shape, were lockedtogether, standing edgewise, and tossing their naked arms in everydirection. 

"Oh, how wonderful!" cried Hildegarde. "Look, Rose! they are like thebones of some great monster, --a gigantic cuttlefish, perhaps. What hugetrees they must have been, to have such roots as these!"

"Dear, beautiful things!" sighed Rose. "If they could only have beenleft! Isn't it strange to think of people not caring for trees, Hilda?"

"Yes!" said Hilda, meekly, and blushing a little. "It is strange now;but before last year, Rose, I don't believe I ever looked at a tree. "

"Oh, before last year!" cried Rose, laughing. "There wasn't any 'beforelast year. ' I had never heard of Shelley before last year. I had neverread a ballad, nor a 'Waverley, ' nor the 'Newcomes, ' nor anything. Let's not talk about the dark ages. You love trees now, I'm sure. "

"That I do!" said Hildegarde. "The oak best of all, the elm next; but Ilove them all. "

"The pine is my favorite, " said Rose. "The great stately king, with hisbroad arms; it always seems as if an eagle should be sitting on one ofthem. What was that line you told me the other day?--'The pine-treespreads his dark-green layers of shade. ' Tennyson, isn't it?"

"Yes, " replied Hildegarde. "But it was 'Cranford' that made me think ofit. And it isn't 'pine-tree, ' after all. I looked, and found it was'cedar. ' Mr. Holbrook, you remember, --Miss Matty's old lover, --quotesit, when they are taking tea with him. Dear Miss Matty! do you thinkCousin Wealthy is the least little bit like her, Rose?"

"Perhaps!" said Rose, thoughtfully. "I think--Oh, Hilda, look!" shecried, breaking off suddenly. "What a queer little house!"

Hildegarde checked Dr. Abernethy, who had been trotting along quitebriskly, and they both looked curiously at the little house on theirleft, which certainly was "queer, "--a low, unpainted shanty, gray withage, the shingles rotting off, and moss growing in the chinks. The smallpanes of glass were crusted with dirt, and here and there one had beenbroken, and replaced with brown paper. The front yard was a tangle ofribbon-grass and clover; but a tuft of straggling flowers here and thereshowed that it had once had care and attention. There was no sign oflife about the place. 

"Rose!" cried Hildegarde, stopping the horse with a pull of the reins;"it is a deserted house. Do you know that I have never seen one in mylife? I must positively take a peep at it, and see what it is likeinside. Take the reins, Bonne Silène, while I go and reconnoitre theposition. " She jumped out, and making her way as best she might throughthe grassy tangle, was soon gazing in at one of the windows. "Oh!" shecried, "it _isn't_ deserted, Rose! At least?--well, some one has beenhere. But, oh, me! oh, _me_! What a place! I never, never dreamed ofsuch a place. I--"

"What _is_ the matter?" cried Rose. "If you don't tell me, I shall jumpout!"

"No, you won't!" said Hildegarde. "You'd better not, Miss! but _oh_, dear! who ever, ever dreamed of such a place? My dear, it is the Abodeof Dirt. Squalid is no word for it; squalor is richness compared to thishouse. I am looking--sit still, Rose!--I am looking into a room about asbig as a comfortable pantry. There is a broken stove in it, and a table, and a stool; and in the room beyond I can see a bed, --at least, Isuppose it is meant for a bed. Oh! what person _can_ live here?"

"_I am coming_, Hilda, " said Rose. "The only question is whether I getout with your help or without. "

"Obstinate Thing!" cried Hildegarde, flying to her assistance. "Well, itshall see the lovely sight, so it shall. Carefully, now; don't trip onthese long grass-loops. There! isn't that a pretty place? Now enjoyyourself, while I get out the tie-rein, and fasten the good beast to atree. "

In hunting for the tie-rein under the seat of the carriage, Hildegardediscovered something else which made her utter an exclamation ofsurprise. "Luncheon!" she cried. "Rose, my dear, did you know about thisbasket? Saint Martha must have put it in. Turnovers, Rose! sandwiches, Rose! and, I declare, a bottle of milk and a tin cup. Were ever twogirls so spoiled as we shall be?"

[Illustration: "THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE. "]

"How kind!" said Rose. "I am not in the least hungry, but I _should_like a cup of milk. Oh, Hildegarde!"

"What now?" asked that young woman, returning with the precious basket, and applying her nose once more to the window. "Fresh horrors?"

"My dear, " said Rose, "look! That is the pantry, --that little cupboard, with the door hanging by one hinge; and there isn't anything in it toeat, except three crackers and an onion. "

Both girls gazed in silence at the forlorn scene before them. Then theylooked at each other. Hildegarde gave an expressive little shake to thebasket. Rose smiled and nodded; then they hugged each other a little, which was a foolish way they had when they were pleased. Very cautiouslyHildegarde pushed the crazy door open, and they stood in the melancholylittle hovel. All was even dirtier and more squalid than it had lookedfrom outside; but the girls did not mind it now, for they had an idea, which had come perhaps to both at the same moment. Hilda looked aboutfor a broom, and finally found the dilapidated skeleton of one. Rose, realizing at once that search for a duster would be fruitless, pulled adouble handful of long grass from the front yard, and the two laid aboutthem, --one vigorously, the other carefully and thoroughly. Dust flewfrom doors and windows; the girls sneezed and coughed, but persevered, till the little room at last began to look as if it might once have beenhabitable. 

"Now you have done enough, Rosy!" cried Hildegarde. "Sit down on thedoorstep and make a posy, while I finish. "

Rose, being rather tired, obeyed. Hildegarde then looked for ascrubbing-brush, but finding none, was obliged to give the little blacktable such a cleaning as she could with the broom and bunches of grass. Behind the house was a lilac-bush, covered with lovely fragrant clustersof blossoms; she gathered a huge bunch of them, and putting them in abroken pitcher with water, set them in the middle of the table. Meanwhile Rose had found two or three peonies and some sweet-william, and with these and some ribbon-grass had made quite a brilliant bouquet, which was laid beside the one cracked plate which the cupboard afforded. On this plate the sandwiches were neatly piled, and the turnovers (allbut two, which the girls ate, partly out of gratitude to Martha, butchiefly because they were good) were laid on a cluster of green leaves. As for the milk, that, Hildegarde declared, Rose must and should drink;and she stood over her till she tilted the bottle back and drained thelast drop. 

"Oh, dear!" said Rose, looking sadly at the empty bottle; "I hope thepoor thing doesn't like milk. It couldn't be a child, Hildegarde, couldit? living here all alone. And anyhow he--or she--will have a betterdinner than one onion and--" But here she broke off, and uttered a lowcry of dismay. "Oh, Hilda! Hilda! look there!"

Hildegarde turned hastily round, and then stood petrified with dismay;for some one was looking in at the window. Pressed against the littleback window was the face of an old man, so withered and wrinkled that itlooked hardly human; only the eyes, bright and keen, were fixed upon thegirls, with what they thought was a look of anger. Masses of wild, unkempt gray hair surrounded the face, and a fragment of old straw hatwas drawn down over the brows. Altogether it was a wild vision; andperhaps it was not surprising that the gentle Rose was terrified, whileeven Hildegarde felt decidedly uncomfortable. They stood still for amoment, meeting helplessly the steady gaze of the sharp, fierce eyes;then with one impulse they turned and fled, --Hildegarde half carryingher companion in her strong arms. Half laughing, half crying, theyreached the carriage. Rose tumbled in somehow, Hildegarde flew tounfasten the tie-rein; and the next moment they were speeding away atquite a surprising rate, Dr. Abernethy having, for the first time inyears, received a smart touch of the whip, which filled him withamazement and indignation. 

Neither of the girls spoke until at least a quarter of a mile laybetween them and the scene of their terror; then, as they came to thefoot of a hill, Hildegarde checked the good horse to a walk, and turnedand looked at Rose. One look, --and they both broke into fits oflaughter, and laughed and laughed as if they never would stop. 

"Oh!" cried Hildegarde, wiping the tears which were rolling down hercheeks. "Rose! I wonder if I looked as guilty as I felt. No wonder heglowered, if I did. "

"Of course you did, " said Rose. "You were the perfect ideal of a FemaleBurgler, caught with the spoons in her hand; and I--oh! my cheeks areburning still; I feel as if I were nothing but a blush. And after all, we _were_ breaking and entering, Hilda!"

"But we did no harm!" said Hilda, stoutly. "I don't much care, now weare safe out of the way. And I'm glad the poor old glowering thing willhave a good dinner for once. Rose, he must be at least a hundred! Didyou ever see anything look so old?"

Rose shook her head meditatively. "It's dreadful to think of his livingall alone there, " she said. "For he must be alone. There was only oneplate, you know, and that wretched bed. Oh, Hilda!" she added, a momentlater, "the basket! we have left the basket there. What shall we do?Must we go back?"

"Perish the thought!" cried Hildegarde, with a shudder half real, halfplayful. "I wouldn't go back there now for the half of my kingdom. Letme see! We will not tell Cousin Wealthy to-day--"

"Oh, no!" cried Rose, shrinking at the bare thought. 

"Nor even to-morrow, perhaps, " continued Hildegarde. "She would befrightened, and might expect you to be ill; we will wait a day or twobefore we tell her. But Martha is not nervous. We can tell herto-morrow, and say that we will get another basket. After all, we weredoing no harm, --none in the world. "

But the best-laid plans, as we all know, "gang aft agley;" and thegirls were not to have the telling of their adventure in their own way. 

That evening, as they were sitting on the piazza after tea, they heardMiss Wealthy's voice, saying, "Martha, there is some one coming up thefront walk, --an aged man, apparently. Will you see who it is, please?Perhaps he wants food, for I see he has a basket. "

Hildegarde and Rose looked at each other in terror. 

"Oh, Hilda!" whispered Rose, catching her friend's hand, "it must be he!What shall we do?"

"Hush!" said Hildegarde. "Listen, and don't be a goose! Do? what shouldhe do to us? He might recite the 'Curse of Kehama, ' but it isn't likelyhe knows it. "

Martha, who had been reconnoitring through a crack of the window-blind, now uttered an exclamation. "Well, of all! Mam, it's old GalushaPennypacker, as sure as you stand there. "

"Is it possible?" said Miss Wealthy, in a tone of great surprise. "Martha, you _must_ be mistaken. Galusha Pennypacker coming here. Why_should_ he come here?"

But for once Martha was not ready to answer her mistress, for she hadgone to open the door. 

The girls listened, with clasped hands and straining ears. 

"Why, Mr. Pennypacker!" they heard Martha say. "This is never you?"

Then a shrill, cracked voice broke in, speaking very slowly, as ifspeech were an unaccustomed effort. "Is there--two gals--here?"

"Two gals?" repeated Martha, in amazement. "What two gals?"

"Gals!" said the old man's voice, --"one on 'em highty-tighty, fly-away-lookin', 'n' the other kind o' 'pindlin'; drivin' your hoss, they was. "

"Why--yes!" said Martha, more and more astonished. "What upon earth--"

"Here's their basket!" the old man continued; "tell 'em I--relished thevictuals. Good-day t' ye!"

Then came the sound of a stick on the steps, and of shuffling feet onthe gravel; and the next moment Miss Wealthy and Martha were gazing atthe guilty girls with faces of mute amazement and inquiry which almostupset Hildegarde's composure. 

"It's true, Cousin Wealthy!" she said quickly. "We meant to tell you--ina little while, when you would not be worried. We thought the house wasdeserted, and I went and looked in at the window. And--it looked sowretched, we thought we might--"

"There was only an onion and three crackers, " murmured Rose, indeprecating parenthesis. 

"We thought we might leave part of our luncheon, for Martha had given ussuch a quantity; and just when we had finished, we saw a face at thewindow--oh, such a dreadful old face!--and we ran away, and forgot thebasket. So you see, Martha, " she added, "it was partly your fault, forgiving us so much luncheon. "

"I see!" said Martha, chuckling, and apparently much amused. 

But Miss Wealthy looked really frightened. "My _dear_ girls, " she said, "it was a _very_ imprudent thing to do. Why, Galusha Pennypacker is halfinsane, people think. A dreadful old miser, who lives in filth andwretchedness, while he has plenty of money hidden away, --at least peoplesay he has. Why, it terrifies me to think of your going into thathovel. "

"Oh! Cousin Wealthy, " said Hildegarde, soothingly, "he couldn't havehurt us, poor old thing! if he had tried. He looks at least a hundredyears old. And of course we didn't know he was a miser. But surely itwill do no harm for him to have a good dinner for once, and Martha'sturnovers ought really to have a civilizing effect upon him. Who knows?Perhaps it may make him remember nicer ways, and he may try to dobetter. "

Miss Wealthy was partly reconciled by this view of the case; but shedeclared that Rose must go to bed at once, as she must be quiteexhausted. 

At this moment Martha, who was still holding the basket, gave anexclamation of surprise. "Why, " she said, "there's things in this! Didyou leave these in the basket, Miss Hilda?"

"I? No!" cried Hildegarde, wondering. "I left nothing at all in it. What is there?"

All clustered eagerly round Martha, who with provoking deliberation tookout two small parcels which lay in the bottom of the basket, and lookedthem carefully over before opening them. They were wrapped in dirtyscraps of brown paper. 

"Oh! there is writing on them!" cried Hildegarde. "Martha dear, _do_tell us what it says!"

Martha studied the inscriptions for some minutes, and then read aloud:"'The fly-away gal' and 'the pail gal. ' Well, of all!" she cried, "it'spresents, I do believe. Here, Miss Hilda, this must be for you. "

Hildegarde opened the little parcel eagerly. It contained a smallshagreen case, which in its turn proved to contain a pair of scissors ofantique and curious form, an ivory tablet, yellow with age, a silverbodkin, and a silver fruit-knife, all fitting neatly in their places;the whole case closing with a spring. "It is the prettiest thing I eversaw!" cried Hildegarde. "See, Cousin Wealthy, isn't it delightful tothink of that poor old dear--But what have you, Rose-red? You must bethe 'pail gal, ' of course, though you are not pale now. "

Rose opened her parcel, and found, in a tiny box of faded morocco, anivory thimble exquisitely carved with minute Chinese figures. It fittedher slender finger to perfection, and she gazed at it with greatdelight, while Miss Wealthy and Martha shook their heads in amazementand perplexity. 

"Galusha Pennypacker, with such things as these!" cried one. 

"Galusha Pennypacker making presents!" exclaimed the other. "Well, wonders will never cease!"

"The thimble is really beautiful!" said Miss Wealthy. "He was aseafaring man in his youth, I remember, and he must have brought thishome from one of his voyages, perhaps fifty or sixty years ago. Dear me!how strangely things do come about! But, my dear Rose, you really _must_go to bed at once, for I am sure you must be quite exhausted. "

And the delighted girls went off in triumph with their treasures, tochatter in their rooms as only girls can chatter. 

CHAPTER VII. 

A "STORY EVENING. "

The next evening was chilly, and instead of sitting on the piazza, thegirls were glad to draw their chairs around Miss Wealthy's work-tableand bring out their work-baskets. Hildegarde had brought two dozennapkins with her to hem for her mother, and Rose was knitting a softwhite cloud, which was to be a Christmas present for good Mrs. Hartleyat the farm. As for Miss Wealthy, she, as usual, was knitting graystockings of fine soft wool. They all fell to talking about old GalushaPennypacker, now pitying his misery, now wondering at the tales of hisavarice. Hildegarde took out the little scissors-case, and examined itanew. "Do you suppose this belonged to his mother?" she asked. "You sayhe never married. Or had he a sister?"

"No, he had no sister, " replied Miss Wealthy. "His mother was a veryrespectable woman. I remember her, though she died when I was quite alittle girl. He had an aunt, too, --a singular woman, who used to be verykind to me. What is it, my dear?" For Hildegarde had given a little cryof surprise. 

"Here is a name!" cried the girl. "At least, it looks like a name; but Icannot make it out. See, Cousin Wealthy, on the little tablet! Oh, howinteresting!"

Miss Wealthy took the tablet, which consisted of two thin leaves ofivory, fitting closely together. On the inside of one leaf was writtenin pencil, in a tremulous hand. "Ca-ira. "

"Is it a name?" asked Rose. 

Miss Wealthy nodded. "His aunt's name, " she said, --"Ca-iry[1]Pennypacker. Yes, surely; this must have belonged to her. Dear, dear!how strangely things come about! Aunt Ca-iry we all called her, thoughshe was no connection of ours. And to think of your having herscissors-case! Now I come to remember, I used to see this in her basketwhen I used to poke over her things, as I loved to do. Dear, dear!"

"Oh, Cousin Wealthy, " cried Hildegarde, "_do_ tell us about her, please!How came she to have such a queer name? I am sure there must be somedelightful story about her. "

Miss Wealthy considered a minute, then she said: "My dear, if you willopen the fourth left-hand drawer of that chest between the windows, andlook in the farther right-hand corner of the drawer, I think you willfind a roll of paper tied with a pink ribbon. "

Hildegarde obeyed in wondering silence; and Miss Wealthy, taking theroll, held it in her hand for a moment without speaking, which was verytrying to the girls' feelings. At last she said, --

"There _is_ an interesting story about Ca-iry Pennypacker, and, curiously enough, I have it here, written down by--whom do youthink?--your mother, Hilda, my dear!"

"My mother!" cried Hildegarde, in amazement. 

"Your mother, " repeated Miss Wealthy. "You see, when Mildred was aharum-scarum girl--" Hildegarde uttered an exclamation, and Miss Wealthystopped short. "Is there something you want to say, dear?" she askedgently. "I will wait. "

The girl blushed violently. "I beg your pardon, Cousin Wealthy, " shesaid humbly. "Shall I go out and stand in the entry? Papa always used tomake me, when I interrupted. "

"You are rather too big for that now, my child, " said the old lady, smiling; "and I notice that you very seldom interrupt. It is better_never_ done, however. Well, as I was saying, your mother used to makeme a great many visits in her school holidays; for she was mygod-daughter, and always very dear to me. She was very fond of hearingstories, and I told her all the old tales I could think of, --among themthis one of Aunt Ca-iry's, which the old lady had told me herself when Iwas perhaps ten years old. It had made a deep impression on me, so thatI was able to repeat it almost in her own words, in the country talk shealways used. She was not an educated woman, my dear, but one of sterlinggood sense and strong character. Well, the story impressed your motherso much that she was very anxious for me to write it down; but as I haveno gift whatever in that way, she finally wrote it herself, taking itfrom my lips, as you may say, --only changing my name from Wealthy toDolly, --but making it appear as if the old woman herself were speaking. Very apt at that sort of thing Mildred always was. And now, if you like, my dears, I will read you the story. "

If they liked! Was there ever a girl who did not love a story? Gray eyesand blue sparkled with anticipation, and there was no further danger ofinterruption as Miss Wealthy, in her soft, clear voice, began to readthe story of--

CA-IRY AND THE QUEEN. 

 What's this you've found? Well, now! well, now! where did you get that, little gal? Been rummagin' in Aunt Ca-iry's bureau, hev you? Naughty little gal! Bring it to me, honey. Why, that little bag, --I wouldn't part with it for gold! That was give me by a queen, --think o' that, Dolly, --by a real live queen, 'cordin' to her own idees, --the Queen o' Sheba. 

 Tell you about her? Why, yes, I will. Bring your little cheer here by the fire, --so; and get your knittin'. When little gals come to spend the day with Aunt Ca-iry they allus brings their knittin', --don't they?--'cause they know they won't get any story unless they do. I can't have no idle hands round this kitchen, 'cause Satan might git in, ye know, and find some mischief for them to do. There! now we're right comf'table, and I'll begin. 

 You see, Dolly, I've lived alone most o' my life, as you may say. Mother died when I was fifteen, and Father, he couldn't stay on without her, so he went the next year; and my brother was settled a good way off: so ever since I've lived here in the old brown house alone, 'cept for the time I'm goin' to tell ye about, when I had a boarder, and a queer one she was. Plenty o' folks asked me to hire out with them, or board with them, and I s'pose I might have married, if I'd been that kind, but I wasn't. Never could abide the thought of havin' a man gormineerin' over me, not if he was the lord o' the land. And I was strong, and had a cow and some fowls, and altogether I knew when I was well off; and after a while folks learned to let me alone. "Queer Ca-iry, " they called me, --in your grandfather's time, Dolly, --but now it's "Aunt Ca-iry" with the hull country round, and everybody's very good to the old woman. 

 How did I come to have such a funny name? Well, my father give it to me. He was a great man for readin', my father was, and there was one book he couldn't ever let alone, skurcely. 'T was about the French Revolution, and it told how the French people tried to git up a republic like ourn. But they hadn't no sense, seemin'ly, and some of 'em was no better nor wild beasts, with their slaughterin', devourin' ways; so nothin' much came of it in the end 'cept bloodshed. 

 Well, it seems they had a way of yellin' round the streets, and shoutin' and singin', "Ca-ira! Ca-ira!" Made a song out of it, the book said, and sang it day in and day out. Father said it meant "That will go!" or somethin' like that, though I never could see any meanin' in it myself. Anyhow, it took Father's fancy greatly, and when I was born, nothin' would do but I must be christened Ca-ira. So I was, and so I stayed; and I don't know as I should have done any better if I'd been called Susan or Jerusha. So that's all about the name, and now we'll come to the story. 

 One day, when I was about eighteen years old, I was takin' a walk in the woods with my dog Bluff. I was very fond o' walkin', and so was Bluff, and there was woods all about, twice as much as there is now. It was a fine, clear day, and we wandered a long way, further from home than we often went, 'way down by Rollin' Dam Falls. The stream was full, and the falls were a pretty sight; and I sat lookin' at 'em, as girls do, and pullin' wintergreen leaves. I never smell wintergreen now without thinkin' of that day. All of a suddent I heard Bluff bark; and lookin' round, I saw him snuffin' and smellin' about a steep clay bank covered with vines and brambles. "Woodchuck!" I thought; and I called him off, for I never let him kill critters unless they were mischeevous, which in the wild woods they couldn't be, of course. But the dog wouldn't come off. He stayed there, sniffin' and growlin', and at last I went to see what the trouble was. 

 My dear, when I lifted up those vines and brambles, what should I see but a hole in the bank!--a hole about two feet across, bigger than any that a woodchuck ever made. The edges were rubbed smooth, as if the critter that made it was big enough to fit pretty close in gettin' through. My first idee was that 't was a wolf's den, --wolves were seen sometimes in those days in the Cobbossee woods, --and I was goin' to drop the vines and slip off as quiet as I could, when what does that dog do but pop into the hole right before my eyes, and go wrigglin' through it! I called and whistled, but 't was no use; the dog was bound to see what was in there. 

 I waited a minute, expectin' to hear the wolf growl, and thinkin' my poor Bluff would be torn to pieces, and yet I must go off and leave him, or be treated the same myself. But, Dolly, instead of a wolf's growl, I heard next minute a sound that made me start more 'n the wolf would ha' done, --the sound of a human voice. Yes! out o' the bowels o' the earth, as you may say, a voice was cryin' out, frightened and angry-like; and then Bluff began to bark, bark! Oh, dear! I felt every which way, child. But 't was clear that there was only one path of duty, and that path led through the hole; for a fellow creature was in trouble, and 't was my dog makin' the trouble. Down I went on my face, and through that hole I crawled and wriggled, --don't ask me how, for I don't know to this day, --thinkin' of the sarpent in the Bible all the way. 

 Suddenly the hole widened, and I found myself in a kind of cave, about five feet by six across, but high enough for me to stand up. I scrambled to my feet, and what should I see but a woman, --a white woman, --sittin' on a heap o' moose and sheep skins, and glarin' at me with eyes like two live coals. She had driven Bluff off, and he stood growlin' in the corner. 

 For a minute we looked at each other without sayin' anything; I didn't know what upon airth to say. At last she spoke, quite calm, in a deep, strange voice, almost like a man's, but powerful sweet. 

 "What seek you, " she said, "slave?"

 Well, that was a queer beginnin', you see, Dolly, and didn't help me much. But I managed to say, "My dog come in, and I followed him--to see what he was barkin' at. "

 "He was barkin' at me, " said the woman. "Bow down before me, slave! I am the Queen!"

 And she made a sign with her hand, so commandin'-like that I made a bow, the best way I could. But, of course, I saw then that the poor creature was out of her mind, and I thought 't would be best to humor her, seein' as I had come in without an invitation, as you may say. 

 "Do you--do you live here, ma'am?" I asked, very polite. 

 "Your Majesty!" says she, holdin' up her head, and lookin' at me as if I was dirt under her feet. 

 "Do you live here, your Majesty?" I asked again. 

 "I am stayin' here, " she said. "I am waitin' for the King, who is comin' for me soon. You did not meet him, slave, on your way hither?"

 "What king was your Majesty meanin'?" says I. 

 "King Solomon, of course!" said she. "For what lesser king should the Queen of Sheba wait?"

 "To be sure!" says I. "No, ma'am, --your Majesty, I mean, --I didn't meet King Solomon. I should think you might find a more likely place to wait for him in than this cave. A king wouldn't be very likely to find his way in here, would he?"

 She looked round with a proud kind o' look. "The chamber is small, " she said, "but richly furnished, --richly furnished. You may observe, slave, that the walls are lined with virgin gold. "

 She waved her hand, and I looked round too at the yellow clay walls and ceilin'. You never could think of such a place, Dolly, unless you'd ha' seen it. However that poor creature had fixed it up so, no mortal will ever know, I expect. There was a fireplace in one corner, and a hole in the roof over it. I found out arterwards that the smoke went out through a hollow tree that grew right over the cave. There was a fryin'-pan, and some meal in a kind o' bucket made o' birch-bark, some roots, and a few apples. All round the sides she'd stuck alder-berries and flowers and pine-tassels, and I don't know what not. There was nothin' like a cheer or table, nothin' but the heap o' skins she was settin' on, --that was bed and sofy and everything else for her, I reckon. 

 And she herself--oh, dear! it makes me want to laugh and cry, both together, to think _how_ that unfortinit creature was rigged up. She had a sheepskin over her shoulders, tied round her neck, with the wool outside. On her head was a crown o' birch-bark, cut into p'ints like the crowns in pictures, and stained yeller with the yeller clay, --I suppose she thought it was gold, --and her long black hair was stuck full o' berries and leaves and things. Under the sheepskin she had just nothin' but rags, --such rags as you never seed in all your days, Dolly, your mother bein' the tidy body she is. And moccasins on her feet, --no stockin's; that finished her Majesty's dress. Well, poor soul! and she as proud and contented as you please, fancyin' herself all gold and di'monds. 

 I made up my mind pretty quick what was the right thing for me to do; and I said, as soothin' as I could, --

 "Your Majesty, I don't reelly advise you to wait here no longer for King Solomon. I never seed no kings round these woods, --it's out o' the line o' kings, as you may say, --and I don't think he'd be likely to find you out, even if he should stroll down to take a look at the falls, same as I did. Haven't you no other--palace, that's a little more on the travelled road, where he'd be likely to pass?"

 "No, " she said, kind o' mournful, and shakin' her head, --"no, slave. I had once, but it was taken from me. "

 "If you don't mind my bein' so bold, " I said, "where was you stayin' before you come here?"

 "With devils!" she said, so fierce and sudden that Bluff and I both jumped. "Speak not of them, lest my wrath descend upon you. "

 This wasn't very encouragin'; but I wasn't a bit frightened, and I set to work again, talkin' and arguin', and kind o' hintin' that there'd been some kings seen round the place where I lived. That weren't true, o' course, and I knew I was wrong, Dolly, to mislead the poor creature, even if 't was for her good; but I quieted my conscience by thinkin' that 't was true in one way, for Hezekiah King and his nine children lived not more 'n a mile from my house. 

 Well, to make a long story short, I e'en persuaded the Queen o' Sheba to come home with me, and stay at my house till King Solomon turned up. She didn't much relish the idee of staying with a slave, --as she would have it I was, --but I told her I didn't work for no one but myself, and I wasn't no common kind o' slave at all; so at last she give in, poor soul, and followed me as meek as a lamb through the hole, draggin' her big moose-skin--which was her coronation-robe, she said, and she couldn't leave it behind--after her, and Bluff growlin' at her heels like all possessed. 

 Well, I got her home, and gave her some supper, and set her in a cheer; and you never in all your life see any one so pleased. She looked, and looked, and you'd ha' thought this kitchen was Marble Halls like them in the song. It _did_ look cheerful and pleasant, but much the same as it does now, after sixty years, little Dolly. And if you'll believe it, it's this very arm-cheer as I'm sittin' in now, that the Queen o' Sheba sot in. It had a flowered chintz cover then, new and bright. Well, she sat back at last, and drew a long breath. 

 "You have done well, faithful slave!" she said. "This is my own palace that you have brought me to. I know it well, --well; and this is my throne, from which I shall judge the people till the King comes. "

 This is what the boys would call "rather cool;" but I only said, "Yes, your Majesty, you shall judge every one there is to judge, "--which was me and Bluff, and Crummy the cow, and ten fowls, and the pig. She was just as pleasant and condescendin' as could be all the evenin', and when I put her to bed in the fourposter in the spare room, she praised me again, and said that when the King came she would give me a carcanet of rubies, whatever that is. 

 Just as soon as she was asleep, the first thing that I did was to open the stove and put her rags in, piece by piece, till they was all burnt up. The moose-skin, which was a good one, I hung out on the line to air. Then I brought out some clothes of Mother's that I'd kep' laid away, --a good calico dress and some underclothing, all nice and fresh, --and laid them over the back of a cheer by her bed. It seemed kind o' strange to go to bed with a ravin' lunatic, as you may say, in the next room; but I knew I was doin' right, and that was all there was to it. The Lord would see to the rest, I thought. 

 Next mornin' I was up bright and early, and soon as I'd made the fire and tidied up and got breakfast under way, I went in to see how her Majesty was. She was wide awake, sittin' up in bed, and lookin' round her as wild as a hawk. Seemed as if she was just goin' to spring out o' bed; but when she saw me, she quieted down, and when I spoke easy and soothin' like, and asked her how she'd slept, she answered pleasant enough. 

 "But where are my robes?" said she, pointin' to the clothes I'd laid out. "Those are not my robes. "

 "They's new robes, " I said, quite bold. "The old ones had to be taken away, your Majesty. They weren't fit for you to wear, really, --all but the coronation robe; and that's hangin' on the line, to--to take the wrinkles out. "

 Well, I had a hard fight over the clothes; she couldn't make up her mind nohow to put 'em on. But at last I had an idee. "Don't you know, " I said, "the Bible says 'The King's Daughter is all radiant within, in raiment of wrought needlework'? Well, this is wrought needlework, every bit of it. "

 I showed her the seams and the stitches; and, my dear, she put it on without another word, and was as pleased as Punch when she was dressed up all neat and clean. Then I brushed her hair out, --lovely hair it was, comin' down below her knees, and thick enough for a cloak, but matted and tangled so 't was a sight to behold, --and braided it, and put it up on top of her head like a sort o' crown, and I tell you she looked like a queen, if ever anybody did. She fretted a little for her birch-bark crown, but I told her how Scripture said a woman's glory was her hair, and that quieted her at once. Poor soul! she was real good and pious, and she'd listen to Scripture readin' by the hour; but I allus had to wind up with somethin' about King Solomon. 

 Well, Dolly, the Queen o' Sheba stayed with me (I must make my story short, Honey, for your ma'll be comin' for ye soon now) three years; and I will say that they was happy years for both of us. Not yourself could be more biddable than that poor crazy Queen was, once she got wonted to me and the place. At first she was inclined to wander off, a-lookin' for the King; but bimeby she got into the way of occupyin' herself, spinnin'--she was a beautiful spinner, and when I told her 't was Scriptural, I could hardly get her away from the wheel--and trimmin' the house up with flowers, and playin' with Bluff, for all the world like a child. And in the evenin's, --well, there! she'd sit on her throne and tell stories about her kingdom, and her gold and spices, and myrrh and frankincense and things, and all the great things she was goin' to do for her faithful slave, --that was me, ye know; she never would call me anything else, --till it all seemed just as good as true. _'T was_ true to her; and if 't had been really true for me, I shouldn't ha' been half so well off as in my own sp'ere; so 't was all right. 

 My dear, my poor Queen might have been with me to this day, if it hadn't been for the meddlesomeness of men. I've heerd talk o' women meddling, and very likely they may, when they live along o' men; but it don't begin with women, nor yet end with 'em. One day I'd been out 'tendin' to the cow, and as I was comin' back I heerd screams and shrieks, and a man's voice talkin' loud. You may believe I run, Dolly, as fast as run I could; and when I came to the kitchen there was Hezekiah King and a strange man standin' and talkin' to the Queen. She was all in a heap behind the big chair, poor soul, tremblin' like a leaf, and her eyes glarin' like they did the fust time I see her; and she didn't say a word, only scream, like a panther in a trap, every minute or two. 

 I steps before her, and "What's this?" says I, short enough. 

 "Mornin', Ca-iry, " says Hezekiah, smilin' his greasy smile, that allus _did_ make me want to slap his face. "This is Mr. Clamp, from Coptown. Make ye acquainted with Miss Ca-iry Pennypacker, Mr. Clamp. I met up with Mr. Clamp yesterday, Ca-iry, and I was tellin' him about this demented creatur as you've been shelterin' at your own expense the last three years, as the hull neighborhood says it's a shame. And lo! how myster'ous is the ways o' Providence! Mr. Clamp is sup'n'tendent o' the Poor Farm down to Coptown, and he says this woman is a crazy pauper as he has had in keer for six year, ever since she lost her wits along o' her husband bein' drownded. She run away three year ago last spring, and he ain't heard nothin' of her till yisterday, when he just chanced to meet up with me. So now he's come as in dooty bound, she belongin' to the deestrick o' Coptown, to take her off your hands, and thank ye for--"

 He hadn't no time to say more. I took him by the shoulders, --I was mortal strong in those days, Dolly; there wasn't a man within ten miles but I could ha' licked him if he'd been wuth it, --and shot him out o' the door like a sack o' flour. Then I took the other man, who was standin' with his mouth open, for all the world like a codfish, and shot him out arter him. He tumbled against Hezekiah, and they both went down together, and sat there and looked at me with their mouths open. 

 "You go home, " says I, "and take care o' yourselves, if you know how. When I want you or the like o' you, I'll send for you. _Scat!_" And I shut the door and bolted it, b'ilin' with rage, and came back to my poor Queen. 

 She was down on the floor, all huddled up in a corner, moanin' and moanin', like a dumb beast that has a death wound. I lifted her up, and tried to soothe and quiet her, --she was tremblin' all over, --but 't was hard work. Not a word could I get out of her but "Devil! Devil!" and then "Solomon!" over and over again. I brought the Bible, and read her about the Temple, and the knops and the flowers, and the purple, and the gold dishes, till she was quiet again; and then I put her to bed, poor soul! though 't was only six o'clock, and sat and sang "Jerusalem the Golden" till she dropped off to sleep. I was b'ilin' mad still, and besides I was afraid she'd have a fit o' sickness, or turn ravin', after the fright, so I didn't sleep much myself that night. Towards mornin', however, I dropped off, and must have slept sound; for when I woke it was seven o'clock, the sun was up high, the door was swingin' open, and the Queen o' Sheba was gone. 

 Don't ask me, little Dolly, how I felt, when I found that poor creature was nowhere on the place. I knew where to go, though. Something told me, plain as words; and Bluff and I, we made a bee-line for the Rollin' Dam woods. The dog found her first. She had tried to get into her hole, but the earth had caved in over it; so she had laid down beside it, on the damp ground, in her nightgown. Oh, dear! oh, dear! How long she'd been there, nobody will ever know. She was in a kind o' swoon, and I had to carry her most o' the way, however I managed to do it; but I was mortal strong in those days, and she was slight and light, for all her bein' tall. When I got her home and laid her in her bed, I knowed she'd never leave it; and sure enough, before night she was in a ragin' fever. A week it lasted; and when it began to go down, her life went with it. My poor Queen! she was real gentle when the fiery heat was gone. She lay there like a child, so weak and white. One night, when I'd been singin' to her a spell, she took this little bag from her neck, where she'd allus worn it, under her clothes, and giv' it to me. 

 "Faithful slave, " she said, --she couldn't speak above a whisper, --"King Solomon is comin' for me to-night. I have had a message from him. I leave you this as a token of my love and gratitude. It is the Great Talisman, more precious than gold or gems. Open it when I am gone. And now, good slave, kiss me, for I would sleep awhile. "

 I kissed my poor dear, and she dozed off peaceful and happy. But all of a sudden she opened her eyes with a start, and sat up in the bed. 

 "Solomon!" she cried, and held out her arms wide. "Solomon, my King!" and then fell back on the piller, dead. 

 There, little Dolly! don't you cry, dear! 'T was the best thing for the poor thing. I opened the bag, when it was all over, and what do you think I found? A newspaper slip, sayin', "Lost at sea, on March 2, 18--, Solomon Marshall, twenty-seven years, " and a lock o' dark-brown hair. Them was the Great Talisman. But if true love and faith can make a thing holy, this poor little bag is holy, and as such I've kept it. 

 There's your ma comin', Dolly. Put on your bonnet, Honey, quick! And see here, dear! you needn't tell her nothin' I said about Hezekiah King, I clean forgot he was your grandfather. 

FOOTNOTE:

[1] Pronounced Kay-iry. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

FLOWER-DAY. 

"Cousin Wealthy, " said Hildegarde at breakfast the next morning, "may Itell you what it was that made me so rude as to interrupt you lastnight?"

"Certainly, my dear, " said Miss Wealthy; "you may tell me, and then youmay forget the little accident, as I had already done. "

"Well, " said Hildegarde, "you spoke of the time when Mamma was a'harum-scarum girl;' and the idea of her ever having been anything ofthe sort was so utterly amazing that--that was why I cried out. Is itpossible that Mammy was not always quiet and blessed and peaceful?"

"Mildred!" exclaimed Miss Wealthy. "Mildred peaceful! My _dear_ Hilda!"

An impressive pause followed, and Hildegarde's eyes began to twinkle. "Tell us!" she murmured, in a tone that would have persuaded an oysterto open his shell. Then she stroked Miss Wealthy's arm gently, and wassilent, for she saw that speech was coming in due time. 

Miss Wealthy looked at her teacup, and shook her head slowly, smiled, and then sighed. "Mildred!" she said again. "My dear, your mother is nowforty years old, and I am seventy. When she came to visit me for thefirst time, _I_ was forty years old, and she was ten. She had on, whenshe arrived, a gray stuff frock, trimmed with many rows of narrow greenbraid, and a little gray straw bonnet, with rows of quilled satinribbon, green and pink. " The girls exchanged glances of horror andamazement at the thought of this headgear, but made no sound. "I shallnever forget that bonnet, " continued Miss Wealthy, pensively, "nor thatdress. In getting out of the carriage her skirt caught on the step, andpart of a row of braid was ripped; this made a loop, in which she caughther foot, and tumbled headlong to the ground. I mended it in theevening, after she was in bed, as it was the frock she was to wear everymorning. My dears, I mended that frock every day for a month. It is thetruth! the braid caught on everything, --on latches, on brambles, onpump-handles, on posts, on chairs. There was always a loop of ithanging, and the child was always putting her foot through it andtumbling down. She never cried, though sometimes, when she felldownstairs, she must have hurt herself. A very brave little girl shewas. At last I took all the braid off, and then things went a littlebetter. "

Miss Wealthy paused to sip her coffee, and Hildegarde tried not to lookas if she begrudged her the sip. "Then, " she went on, "Mildred wasalways running away, --not intentionally, you understand, but just goingoff and forgetting to come back. Once--dear, dear! it gives me a turn tothink of it!--she had been reading 'Neighbor Jackwood, ' and was muchdelighted with the idea of the heroine's hiding in the haystack toescape her cruel pursuers. So she went out to the great haystack in thebarnyard, pulled out a quantity of hay, crept into the hole, and foundit so comfortable that she fell fast asleep. You may imagine, my dears, what my feelings were when dinner-time came, and Mildred was not to befound. The house was searched from garret to cellar. Martha andI--Martha had just come to me then--went down to the wharf and throughthe orchard and round by the pasture, calling and calling, till ourthroats were sore. At last, as no trace of the child could be found, Imade up my mind that she must have wandered away into the woods and gotlost. It was a terrible thought, my dears! I called Enoch, the man, andbade him saddle the horse and ride round to call out the neighbors, thatthey might all search together. As he was leading the horse out, henoticed a quantity of hay on the ground, and wondered how it had comethere. Coming nearer, he saw the hole in the stack, looked in, and--there was the child, fast asleep!"

"Oh! naughty little mother!" cried Hildegarde. "What did you do to her, Cousin Wealthy?"

"Nothing, my dear, " replied the good lady. "I was quite ill for severaldays from the fright, and that was enough punishment for the poor child. She never _meant_ to be naughty, you know. But my heart was in my mouthall the time. Once, coming home from a walk, I heard a cheery littlevoice crying, 'Cousin Wealthy! Cousin! see where I am!' I looked up. Hilda, she was sitting on the ridge-pole of the house, waving her bonnetby a loop of the pink quilled ribbon, --it was almost as bad as the greenbraid about coming off, --and smiling like a cherub. 'I came through theskylight, ' she said, 'and the air up here is _so_ fresh and nice! I wishyou would come up, Cousin!'

"Another time--oh, that was the worst time of all! I really thought Ishould die that time. " Miss Wealthy paused, and shook her head. 

"Oh, do go on, dear!" cried Hildegarde; "unless you are tired, that is. It is so delightful!"

"It was anything but delightful for me, my dear, I can assure you, "rejoined Miss Wealthy. "This happened several years later, when Mildredwas thirteen or fourteen. She came to me for a winter visit, and I wasdelighted to find how womanly she had grown. We had a great deal of badweather, and she was with me in the house a good deal, and was mostsweet and helpful; and as I did not go out much, I did not see what shedid out of doors, and she _always_ came home in time for dinner and tea. Well, one day--it was in March, and the river was just breaking up, aswe had had some mild weather--the minister came to see me, and I beganto tell him about Mildred, and how she had developed, and how muchcomfort I took in her womanly ways. He was sitting on the sofa, fromwhich, you know, one can see the river very well. Suddenly he said, 'Dear me! what is that? Some one on the river at this time! Veryimprudent! Very--' Then he broke off short, and gave me a strange look. I sprang up and went to the window. What did I see, my dear girls? Theriver was full of great cakes of ice, all pressed and jumbled together;the current was running very swiftly; and there, in the middle of theriver, jumping from one cake to another like a chamois, or some suchwild creature, was Mildred Bond. "

"Oh!" cried Rose, "how dreadful! Dear Miss Bond, what did you do?"

Hildegarde was silent. It was certainly very naughty, she thought; butoh, what fun it must have been!

"Fortunately, " said Miss Wealthy, "I became quite faint at the sight. Fortunately, I say; for I might have screamed and startled the child, and made her lose her footing. As it was, the minister went and calledMartha, and she, like the sensible girl she is, simply blew thedinner-horn as loud as she possibly could. It was the middle of theafternoon; but as she rightly conjectured, the sound, without startlingMildred, gave her to understand that she was wanted. The ministerwatched her making her way to the shore, leaping the dark spaces ofrushing water between the cakes, apparently as unconcerned as if shewere walking along the highway; and when he saw her safe on shore, hewas very glad to sit down and drink a glass of the wine that Martha hadbrought to revive me. 'My dear madam, ' he said, --I was lying on the sofain dreadful suspense, and could not trust myself to look, --'the younglady is safe on the bank, and will be here in a moment. I fear she isnot so sedate as you fancied; and as she is too old to be spanked andput to bed, I should recommend your sending her home by the coachto-morrow morning. That girl, madam, needs the curb, and you have beenguiding her with the snaffle. ' He was very fond of horses, good man, and always drove a good one himself. "

"And did you send her home?" asked Hildegarde, anxiously, thinking whata dreadful thing it would be to be sent back in disgrace. 

"Oh, no!" said Miss Wealthy, "I could not do that, of course. Mildredwas my god-child, and I loved her dearly. But she was not allowed to seeme for twenty-four hours, and I fancy those were very sad hours for her. Dear Mildred! that was her last prank; for the next time she came hereshe was a woman grown, and all the hoyden ways had been put off like agarment. And now, dears, " added Miss Wealthy, rising, "we must letMartha take these dishes, or she will be late with her work, and thatalways distresses her extremely. "

They went into the parlor, and Hildegarde, as she patted and "plumped"the cushions of the old lady's chair, reminded her that she had promisedthem some work for the morning, but had not told them what it was. 

"True!" said Miss Wealthy. "You are right, dear. This is my Flower-day. I send flowers once a week to the sick children in the hospital atFairtown, and I thought you might like to pick them and make up thenosegays. "

"Oh, how delightful that will be!" cried Hildegarde. "And is that whatyou call work, Cousin Wealthy? I call it play, and the best kind. Wemust go at once, so as to have them all picked before the sun is hot. Come, Rosebud!"

The girls put on their broad-brimmed hats and went out into the garden, which was still cool and dewy. Jeremiah was there, of course, with hiswheelbarrow; and as they stood looking about them, Martha appeared witha tray in one hand and a large shallow tin box in the other. Waving thetray as a signal to the girls to follow, she led the way to a shadycorner, where, under a drooping laburnum-tree, was a table and a rusticseat. She set the tray and box on the table, and then, diving into hercapacious pocket, produced a ball of string, two pairs offlower-scissors, and a roll of tissue paper. 

"There!" she said, in a tone of satisfaction, "I think that's all. Pretty work you'll find it, Miss Hilda, and it's right glad I am to haveyou do it; for it is too much for Miss Bond, stooping over the beds, soit is. But do it she will; and I almost think she hardly liked to giveit up, even to you. "

"Indeed, I don't wonder!" said Hildegarde. "There cannot be anythingelse so pleasant to do. And thank you, Martha, for making everything socomfortable for us. You are a dear, as I may have said before. "

Martha chuckled and withdrew, after telling the girls that the flowersmust be ready in an hour. 

"Now, Rose, " said Hildegarde, "you will sit there and arrange the prettydears as I bring them to you. The question is now, where to begin. Inever, in all my life, saw so many flowers!"

"Begin with those that will not crush easily, " said Rose, "and I willlay them at the bottom. Some of those splendid sweet-williams overthere, and mignonette, and calendula, and sweet alyssum, and--"

"Oh, certainly!" cried Hildegarde. "All at once, of course, picking withall my hundred hands at the same moment. Couldn't you name a few more, Miss?"

"I beg pardon!" said Rose, laughing. "I will confine my attention to thelaburnum here. 'Allee same, ' I don't believe you see that beautifulmourning-bride behind you. "

"Why mourning, and why bride?" asked Hildegarde, plucking some of thedark, rich blossoms. "It doesn't strike me as a melancholy flower. "

"I don't know!" said Rose. "I used to play that she was a princess, andso wore crimson instead of black for mourning. She is so beautiful, itis a pity she has no fragrance. She is of the teasel family, you know. "

"Lady Teazle?" asked Hildegarde, laughing. 

"A different branch!" replied Rose, "but just as prickly. The fuller'steasel, --do you know about it, dear?"

"No, Miss Encyclopædia, I do not!" replied Hildegarde, with someasperity. "You know I _never_ know anything of that kind; tell me aboutit!"

"Well, it is very curious, " said Rose, taking the great bunch ofmourning-bride that her friend handed her, and separating the flowersdaintily. "The flower-heads of this teasel, when they are dried, arecovered with sharp curved hooks, and are used to raise the nap onwoollen cloth. No machine or instrument that can be invented does ithalf so well as this dead and withered blossom. Isn't that interesting?"

"Very!" said Hildegarde. "Oh, dear! oh, dear!"

"What _is_ the matter?" cried Rose, in alarm. "Has something stung you?Let me--"

"Oh, no!" said Hildegarde, quickly. "I was only thinking of theappalling number of things there are to know. They overwhelm me! Theybury me! A mountain weighs me down, and on its top grows a--a teasel. Why, I never heard of the thing! I am not sure that I am clear what afuller is, except that his earth is advertised in the Pears'soap-boxes. "

They both laughed at this, and then Hildegarde bent with renewed energyover a bed of feathered pinks of all shades of crimson and rose-color. 

"A mountain!" said Rose, slowly and thoughtfully, as she laid theblossoms together and tied them up in small posies. "Yes, Hilda, so itis! but a mountain to climb, not to be buried under. To think that wecan go on climbing, learning, all our lives, and always with higher andhigher peaks above us, soaring up and up, --oh, it is glorious! Whatmight be the matter with you to-day, my lamb?" she added; for Hildegardegroaned, and plunged her face into a great white lily, withdrawing it toshow a nose powdered with virgin gold. "Does your head ache?"

"I think the sturgeon is at the bottom of it, " was the reply. "I havenot yet recovered fully from the humiliation of having been sofrightened by a sturgeon, when I had been brought up, so to speak, onthe 'Culprit Fay. ' I have eaten caviare too, " she addedgloomily, --"odious stuff!"

"But, my _dear_ Hilda!" cried Rose, in amused perplexity, "this is tooabsurd. Why shouldn't one be frightened at a monstrous creature leapingout of the water just before one's nose, and how should you know he wasa sturgeon? You couldn't expect him to say 'I am a sturgeon!' or tocarry a placard hung round his neck, with 'Fresh Caviare!' on it. "Hildegarde laughed. "You remind me, " added Rose, "that my own ignorancelist is getting pretty long. Get me some sweet-peas, that's a dear; andI can ask you the things while you are picking them. " Hildegarde movedto the long rows of sweet-peas, which grew near the laburnum bower; andRose drew a little brown note-book from her pocket, and laid it open onthe table beside her. "What is 'Marlowe's mighty line'?" she demandedbravely. "I keep coming across the quotation in different things, and Idon't know who Marlowe was. Yet you see I am cheerful. "

"Kit Marlowe!" said Hildegarde. "Poor Kit! he was a great dramatist; thenext greatest after Shakspeare, I think, --at least, well, leaving outthe Greeks, you know. He was a year younger than Shakspeare, and diedwhen he was only twenty-eight, killed in a tavern brawl. "

"Oh, how dreadful!" cried gentle Rose. "Then he had only begun towrite. "

"Oh, no!" said Hildegarde. "He had written a great deal, --'Faustus' and'Edward II. , ' and 'Tamburlaine, ' and--oh! I don't know all. But onething of his _you_ know, 'The Passionate Shepherd, '--'Come live with meand be my love;' you remember?"

"Oh!" cried Rose. "Did he write that? I love him, then. "

"And so many, many lovely things!" continued Hildegarde, warming to hersubject, and snipping sweet-peas vigorously. "Mamma has read me a gooddeal here and there, --all of 'Edward II. , ' and bits from 'Faustus. 'There is one place, where he sees Helen--oh, I must remember it!--

 "'Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?'

Isn't that full of pictures? I see them! I see the ships, and the white, royal city, and the beautiful, beautiful face looking down from a towerwindow. "

Both girls were silent a moment; then Rose asked timidly, "And who spokeof the 'mighty line, ' dear? It must have been another great poet. Onlythree words, and such a roll and ring and brightness in them. "

"Oh! Ben Jonson!" said Hildegarde. "He was another great dramatist, youknow; a little younger, but of the same time with Shakspeare andMarlowe. He lived to be quite old, and he wrote a very famous poem onShakspeare, 'all full of quotations, ' as somebody said about 'Hamlet. 'It is in that that he says 'Marlowe's mighty line, ' and 'Sweet Swan ofAvon, ' and 'Soul of the Age, ' and all sorts of pleasant things. So niceof him!"

"And--and was he an ancestor of Dr. Samuel's?" asked Rose, humbly. 

"Why, darling, you are really quite ignorant!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. "How delightful to find things that you don't know! No, he hadno _h_ in his name, --at least, it had been left out; but he cameoriginally from the Johnstones of Annandale. Think of it! he may havebeen a cousin of Jock Johnstone the Tinkler, without knowing it. Well, his father died when he was little, and his mother married abrick-layer; and Ben used to carry hods of mortar up ladders, --oh me!what a strange world it is! By-and-by he was made Laureate, --the firstLaureate, --and he was very great and glorious, and wrote masques andplays and poems, and quarrelled with Inigo Jones--no! I can't stop totell you who he was, " seeing the question in Rose's eyes, --"and grewvery fat. But when he was old they neglected him, poor dear! and when hedied he was buried standing up straight, in Westminster Abbey; and hisfriend Jack Young paid a workman eighteenpence to carve on a stone 'ORare Ben Jonson!' and there it is to this day. "

She paused for breath; but Rose said nothing, seeing that more wascoming. "But the best of all, " continued Hildegarde, "was his visit toDrummond of Hawthornden. Oh, Rose, that was so delightful!"

"Tell me about it!" said Rose, softly. "Not that I know who _he_ was;but his name is a poem in itself. "

"Isn't it?" cried Hildegarde. "He was a poet too, a Scottish poet, living in a wonderful old house--"

"Not 'caverned Hawthornden, ' in 'Lovely Rosabelle'?" cried Rose, hereyes lighting up with new interest. 

"Yes!" replied Hildegarde, "just that. Do you know why it is 'caverned'?That must be another story. Remind me to tell you when we are doing ourhair to-night. But now you must hear about Ben. Well, he went on awalking tour to Scotland, and one of his first visits was to WilliamDrummond, with whom he had corresponded a good deal. Drummond wassitting under his great sycamore-tree, waiting for him, and at last hesaw a great ponderous figure coming down the avenue, flourishing a hugewalking-stick. Of course he knew who it was; so he went forward to meethim, and called out, 'Welcome, welcome, royal Ben!' 'Thank ye, thank ye, Hawthornden!' answered Jonson; and then they both laughed and werefriends at once. "

"Hildegarde, where do you find all these wonderful things?" cried Rose, in amazement. "That is delightful, enchanting. And for you to callyourself ignorant! Oh!"

"There is a life of Drummond at home, " said Hildegarde, simply. "Ofcourse one reads lovely things, --there is no merit in that; and theteasel still flaunts. But I _do_ feel better. That is just my baseness, to be glad when you don't know things, you dearest! But do just look atthese sweet-peas! I have picked all these, --pecks! bushels!--and thereare as many as ever. Don't you think we have enough flowers, Rosy?"

"I do indeed!" answered Rose. "Enough for a hundred children at least. Besides, it must be time for them to go. The lovely things! Think of allthe pleasure they will give! A sick child, and a bunch of flowers likethese!" She took up a posy of velvet pansies and sweet-peas, set roundwith mignonette, and put it lovingly to her lips. "I remember--" Shepaused, and sighed, and then smiled. 

"Yes, dear!" said Hildegarde, interrogatively. "The house where you wereborn?"

[Illustration: "'DON'T YOU THINK WE HAVE ENOUGH FLOWERS, ROSY?'"]

"One day I was in dreadful pain, " said Rose, --"pain that seemed as if itwould never end, --and a little child from a neighbor's house brought abunch of Ragged Robin, and laid it on my pillow, and said, 'PoorPinky! make she better!' I think I have never loved any other flowerquite so much as Ragged Robin, since then. It is the only one I misshere. Do you want to hear the little rhyme I made about it, when I wasold enough?"

Hildegarde answered by sitting down on the arm of the rustic seat, andthrowing her arm round her friend's shoulder in her favorite fashion. "Such a pleasant Rosebud!" she murmured. "Tell now!"

And Rose told about--

RAGGED ROBIN. 

 O Robin, ragged Robin, That stands beside the door, The sweetheart of the country child, The flower of the poor, I love to see your cheery face, Your straggling bravery; Than many a stately garden bloom You're dearer far to me. 

 For you it needs no sheltered nook, No well-kept flower-bed; By cottage porch, by roadside ditch, You raise your honest head. 

 The small hedge-sparrow knows you well, The blackbird is your friend; With clustering bees and butterflies Your pink-fringed blossoms bend. 

 O Robin, ragged Robin, The dearest flower that grows, Why don't you patch your tattered cloak? Why don't you mend your hose?

 Would you not like to prank it there Within the border bright, Among the roses and the pinks, A courtly dame's delight?

 "Ah no!" says jolly Robin, "'T would never do for me; The friend of bird and butterfly, Like them I must be free. 

 "The garden is for stately folk, The lily and the rose; They'd scorn my coat of ragged pink, Would flout my broken hose. 

 "Then let me bloom in wayside ditch, And by the cottage door, The sweetheart of the country child, The flower of the poor. "

CHAPTER IX. 

BROKEN FLOWERS. 

Miss Wealthy was sitting on the back piazza, crocheting a tidy. Thestitch was a new one, and quite complicated, and her whole mind was bentupon it. "One, two, purl, chain, slip; one, two, purl"--when suddenlydescended upon her a whirlwind, a vision of sparkling eyes and"tempestuous petticoat, " crying, "_Please_, Cousin Wealthy, may I gowith Jeremiah? The wagon is all ready. Mayn't I go? Oh, _please_ say'yes'!"

Miss Wealthy started so violently that the crochet-hook fell from herhands. "My _dear_ Hilda!" she said plaintively, "you quite take mybreath away. I--really, my dear, I don't know what to say. Where do youwant to go?"

"With Jeremiah, to Fairtown, with the flowers--to see the children!"cried Hildegarde, still too much out of breath to speak connectedly, butdropping on one knee beside the old lady, and stroking her soft handapologetically. "He says he will take care of me; and Rose has a longletter to write, and I shall be back in time for dinner. Dear, nice, pretty, sweet, bewitching Cousin Wealthy, may I go?"

Miss Wealthy was still bewildered. "Why, my dear, " she saidhesitatingly. "Yes--you may go, certainly--if you are quite sure--"

But Hildegarde waited for no "ifs. " She whirled upstairs, flew out ofher pink gingham and into a sober dark blue one, exchanged her gardenhat for a blue "sailor, " whirled downstairs again, kissed Rose on bothcheeks, dropped another kiss on Miss Wealthy's cap, and was in the wagonand out of sight round the corner before any one with moderatelydeliberate enunciation could have said "Jack Robinson. "

Miss Wealthy dropped back in her chair, and drew a long, flutteringbreath. She looked flushed and worried, and put her hand nervously up tothe pansy brooch. Seeing this, Rose came quietly, picked up thecrochet-hook, and sat down to admire the work, and wonder if she couldlearn the stitch. "Perhaps some time you would show it to me, dear MissBond, " she said; "and now may I read you that article onwindow-gardening that you said you would like to hear?"

So Rose read, in her low, even tones, smooth and pleasant as therippling of water; and Miss Wealthy's brow grew calm again, and theflush passed away, and her thoughts passed pleasantly from "one, two, purl, slip, " to gloxinias and cyclamen, and back again; till at length, the day being warm, she fell asleep, which was exactly what the wilyRose meant her to do. 

Meantime Hildegarde was speeding along toward the station, seated besideJeremiah in the green wagon, with the box of flowers stowed safely underthe seat. She was in high spirits, and determined to enjoy every momentof her "escapade, " as she called it. Jeremiah surveyed her bright facewith chastened melancholy. 

"Reckon you're in for a junket, " he said kindly. "Quite a head o' steamyou carry. 'T'll do ye good to work it off some. "

"Yes!" cried Hildegarde. "It is a regular frolic, isn't it, Jeremiah?How beautiful everything looks! What a perfection of a day it is!"

"Fine hayin' weather!" Jeremiah assented. "We sh'll begin to-morrow, Icalc'late. Pleasant, hayin' time is. Now, thar's a field!" He pointedwith his whip to a broad meadow all blue-green with waving timothy, andsighed, and shook his head. 

"Isn't it a good field?" asked Hildegarde, innocently. 

"Best lot on the place!" replied the prophet, with melancholyenthusiasm. "Not many lots like that in _this_ neighborhood! There's apower o' grass there. Well, sirs! grass must be cut, and hay must beeat, --there's no gainsayin' that, --'in the sweat o' thy brow, ' yeunderstand; but still there's some enj'yment in it. "

Hildegarde could not quite follow this sentence, which seemed to be onlyhalf addressed to her; so she only nodded sagely, and turned herattention to the ferns by the roadside. 

It was less than an hour's trip to Fairtown, nor was the walk longthrough the pleasant, elm-shaded streets. The hospital was a brickbuilding, painted white, and looking very neat and trim, with itsstriped awnings, and its flagged pathway between rows of box. One sawthat it had been a fine dwelling-house in its day, for the wood of thedoorway was cunningly carved, and the brass knocker was quite a work ofart. 

Jeremiah knocked; and when the door was opened by a neat maidservant, hebrought the box of flowers, and laid it on a table in the hall. "MissBond's niece!" he said, with a nod of explanation and introduction. "Thought she'd come herself; like to see the young ones. I'll be backfor ye in an hour, " he added to Hildegarde, and with another noddeparted. 

After waiting a few minutes in a cool, shady parlor, where she satfeeling strange and shy, and wishing she had not come, Hildegarde wasgreeted by a sweet-faced woman in spotless cap and apron, who bade herwelcome, and asked for Miss Bond. "It is some time since she has beenhere!" she added. "We are always so glad to see her, dear lady. But herkindness comes every week in the lovely flowers, and the children dothink so much of them. Would you like to distribute them yourselfto-day? A new face is always a pleasure, if it is a kind one; and yourswill bring sunshine, I am sure. "

"Oh, thank you!" said Hildegarde, shyly. "It is just what I wanted, ifyou really think they would like it. "

Mrs. Murray, as the matron was called, seemed to have no doubt upon thispoint, and led the way upstairs, the servant following with the flowers. She opened a door, and led Hildegarde into a large, sunny room, withlittle white beds all along the wall. On every pillow lay a littlehead; and many faces turned toward the opening door, with a look ofpleasure at meeting the matron's cheery smile. Hildegarde opened hergreat box, and taking up three or four bouquets, moved forwardhesitatingly. This was something new to her. She had visited girls ofher own age or more, in the New York hospitals, but she was not used tolittle children, being herself an only child. In the first cot lay alittle girl, a mite of five years, with a pale patient face. She couldnot move her hands, but she turned her face toward the bunch ofsweet-peas that Hildegarde laid on the pillow, and murmured, "Pitty!pitty!"

"Aren't they sweet?" said Hildegarde. "Do you see that they have littlewings, almost like butterflies? When the wind blows, they flutter about, and seem to be alive, almost. "

The child smiled, and put her lips to the cool fragrant blossoms. "Kissbutterf'ies!" she said; and at this Hildegarde kissed her, and went onto the next crib. 

Here lay a child of seven, her sweet blue eyes heavy with fever, hercheeks flushed and burning. She stretched out her hands toward theflowers, and said, "White ones! give me white ones, Lady! Red ones ishot! Minnie is too hot. White ones is cold. "

A nurse stood beside the crib, and Hildegarde looked to her forpermission, then filled the little hands with sweet alyssum and whiteroses. 

"The roses were all covered with dew when I picked them, " she saidsoftly. "See, dear, they are still cool and fresh. " And she laid themagainst the burning cheek. "There was a great bed of roses in a lovelygarden, and while I was at one end of it, a little humming-bird came tothe other, and hovered about, and put his bill into the flowers. Hishead was bright green, like the leaves, and his throat was ruby-red, and--"

"Guess that's a lie, ain't it?" asked the child, wearily. 

"Oh, no!" said Hildegarde, smiling. "It is all true, every word. Whenyou are better, I will send you a picture of a humming-bird. "

She nodded kindly, and moved on, to give red roses to a bright littletot in a red flannel dressing-gown, who was sitting up in bed, nursing arubber elephant. He took the roses and said, "Sanks!" very politely, then held them to his pet's gray proboscis. "I's better, " he explained, with some condescension. "I don't need 'em, but Nelephant doos. He's asevere case. Doctor said so vis mornin'. "

"Indeed!" said Hildegarde, sympathetically. "I am very sorry. What isthe matter with him?"

"Mumps 'n' ague 'n' brown kitties 'n' ammonia 'n' fits!" was the promptreply; "and a hole in his leg too! Feel his pult!"

He held up a gray leg, which Hildegarde examined gravely. "It seems tobe hollow, " she said. "Did the doctor think that was a bad sign?"

"It's fits, " said the child, "or a brown kitty, --I don't know which. Isyou a nurse?"

"No, dear, " said Hildegarde; "I only came to bring the flowers. I mustgo away soon, but I shall think of you and the elephant, and I hope hewill be better soon. "

"Sing!" was the unexpected reply, in a tone of positive command. 

"Benny!" said Mrs. Murray, who came up at this moment; "you mustn'ttease the young lady, dear. See! the other children are waiting fortheir flowers, and you have these lovely roses. "

"She looks singy!" persisted Benny. "I wants her to sing. Doctor said Icould have what I wanted, and I wants _vat_. "

"May I sing to him?" asked Hildegarde, in a low tone. "I can sing alittle, if it would not disturb the others. "

But Mrs. Murray thought the others would like it very much. SoHildegarde first gave posies to all the other children in the room, andthen came back and sat down on Benny's bed, and sang, "Up the airymountain, " in a very sweet, clear voice. Several little ones had beentossing about in feverish restlessness, but now they lay still andlistened; and when the song was over, a hoarse voice from a corner ofthe room cried, "More! more sing!"

"She's _my_ more! she isn't your more!" cried Benny, sitting erect, with flashing eyes that glared across the room at the offender. But asoft hand held a cup of milk to his lips, and laid him back on thepillow; and the nurse motioned to Hildegarde to go on. 

Then she sang, "Ring, ting! I wish I were a primrose;" and then anotherof dear William Allingham's, which had been her own pet song when shewas Benny's age. 

 "'Oh, birdie, birdie, will you, pet? Summer is far and far away yet. You'll get silken coats and a velvet bed, And a pillow of satin for your head. '

 "'I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall! No rain comes through, though I hear it fall The sun peeps gay at dawn of day, And I sing and wing away, away. '

 "'Oh, birdie, birdie, will you, pet? Diamond stones, and amber and jet, I'll string in a necklace fair and fine, To please this pretty bird of mine. '

 "'Oh, thanks for diamonds and thanks for jet, But here is something daintier yet. A feather necklace round and round, That I would not sell for a thousand pound. '

 "'Oh, birdie, birdie, won't you, pet? I'll buy you a dish of silver fret; A golden cup and an ivory seat, And carpets soft beneath your feet. '

 "'Can running water be drunk from gold? Can a silver dish the forest hold? A rocking twig is the finest chair, And the softest paths lie through the air. Farewell, farewell to my lady fair!'"

By the time the song was finished, Benny was sleeping quietly, and thenurse thanked Hildegarde for "getting him off so cleverly. He needed anap, " she said; "and if he thinks we want him to go to sleep, he setsall his little strength against it. He's getting better, the lamb!"

"What has been the matter?" asked Hildegarde. 

"Pneumonia, " was the reply. "He has come out of it very well, but Idread the day when he must go home to a busy, careless mother and adraughty cottage. He ought to have a couple of weeks in the country. "

At this moment the head nurse--a tall, slender woman with a beautifulface--came from an inner room, the door of which had been standing ajar. She held out her hand to Hildegarde, and the girl saw that her eyes werefull of tears. "Thank you, " she said, "for the song. Another little birdhas just flown away from earth, and he went smiling, when he heard yousing. Have you any sweet little flowers, pink and white?"

The quick tears sprang to Hilda's eyes. She could not speak for amoment, but she lifted some lovely sprays of blush rosebuds, which thenurse took with a smile and a look of thanks. The girl's eyes followedher; and before the door closed she caught a glimpse of a little stillform, and a cloud of fair curls, and a tiny waxen hand. Hildegardeburied her face in her hands and sobbed; while Benny's gentle nursesmoothed her hair, and spoke softly and soothingly. This was what shehad called a "frolic, "--this! She had laughed, and come away as if tosome gay party, and now a little child had died almost close beside her. Hildegarde had never been so near death before. The world seemed verydark to her, as she turned away, and followed Mrs. Murray into anotherroom, where the convalescent children were at play. Here, as she tookthe remaining flowers from the box, little boys and girls came crowdingabout her, some on crutches, some with slings and bandages, some onlypale and hollow-eyed; but all had a look of "getting well, " and all wereeager for the flowers. The easiest thing seemed to be to sit down onthe floor; so down plumped Hildegarde, and down plumped the childrenbeside her. Looking into the little pallid faces, her heart grewlighter, though even this was sad enough. But she smiled, and pelted thechildren with bouquets; and then followed much feeble laughter, andclutching, and tumbling about, while the good matron looked on wellpleased. 

"What's them?" asked one tiny boy, holding up his bunch. 

"Those are pansies!" answered Hildegarde. "There are little faces inthem, do you see? They smile when the sun shines, and when children aregood. "

"Nein, " said a small voice from the outside of the circle, "dat issStiefmütterlein!"

"Du Blümlein fein!" cried Hildegarde. "Yes, to be sure. Come here, little German boy, and we will tell the others about the pretty Germanname. "

[Illustration: "SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE. "]

A roly-poly lad of six, with flaxen hair and bright blue eyes, cameforward shyly, and after some persuasion was induced to sit down inHildegarde's lap. "See now!" she said to the others; "this pansy has adifferent name in Germany, where this boy--"

"Namens Fritzerl!" murmured the urchin, nestling closer to the wonderfulFräulein who knew German. 

"Where Fritzerl came from. There they call it 'Stiefmütterlein, ' whichmeans 'little stepmother. ' Shall I tell you why? See! In front here arethree petals just alike, with the same colors and the same marking. These are the stepmother and her own two daughters; and here, behind, are the two step-daughters, standing in the background, but keepingclose together like loving sisters. I hope the little stepmother is kindto them, don't you?"

"I've got one!" piped up a little girl with a crutch. "She's real good, she is. Only she washes my face 'most all day long, 'cause she's 'fearedshe won't do her duty by me. She brought me red jelly yesterday, and anoil-cloth bib, so's I wouldn't spill it on my dress. My dress 's new!"she added, edging up to Hildegarde, and holding up a red merino skirtwith orange spots. 

"I see it is, " said Hilda, admiringly; "and so bright and warm, isn'tit?"

"I've got a grandma to home!" cried another shrill voice. "She makessplendid mittens! She makes cookies too. "

"My Uncle Jim's got a wooden leg!" chimed in another. "He got it fallingoff a mast. He kin drive tacks with it, he kin. When I'm big I'm goingto fall off a mast and git a wooden leg. You kin make lots o' noise withit. "

"My grandma's got a wig!" said the former speaker, in triumph. "Ipulled it off one day. She was just like an aig on top. Are you like anaig on top?"

Here followed a gentle pull at one of Hildegarde's smooth braids, andshe sprang up, feeling quite sure that her hair would stay on, but notcaring to have it tumbling on her shoulders. "I think it is nearly timefor me to go now, " she was beginning, when she heard a tiny sob, andlooking down, saw a very small creature looking up at her with roundblue eyes full of tears. "Why, darling, what is the matter?" she asked, stooping, and lifting the baby in her strong young arms. 

"I--wanted--" Here came another sob. 

"What did you want? Come, we'll sit here by the window, and you shalltell me all about it. "

"Ze uzzers told you sings, and--I--wanted--to tell you sings--too!"

"Well, pet!" said Hildegarde, drying the tears, and kissing the roundvelvet cheek, "tell me then!"

"Ain't got no--sings--to tell!" And another outburst threatened; butHilda intervened hastily. 

"Oh, yes, I am sure you have things to tell, lots of things; only youcouldn't think of them for a minute. What did you have for breakfastthis morning?"

Baby looked doubtful. "Dat ain't a sing!"

"Yes, it is, " said Hildegarde, boldly. "Come, now! I had a mutton chop. What did you have?"

"Beef tea, " was the reply, with a brightening look of retrospectivecheer, "and toasty strips!"

"_Oh_, how good!" cried Hilda. "I wish I had some. And what are yougoing to have for dinner?"

"Woast tsicken!" and here at last came a smile, which broadened into alaugh and ended in a chuckle, as Hilda performed a pantomime expressingrapture. 

"I never heard of anything so good!" she cried. "And what are you goingto eat it with, --two little sticks?"

"No-o!" cried Baby, with a disdainful laugh. "Wiz a worky, a wealworky. "

"A walk!" said Hildegarde, puzzled. 

"Es!" said Baby, proudly. "A atta worky, dess like people's!"

"Please, he means fork!" said a little girl, sidling up with a finger inher mouth. "Please, he's my brother, and we've both had tripod fever;and we're going home to-morrow. "

"And the young lady must go home now, " said Mrs. Murray, laying a kindhand on the little one's shoulder. "The man has come for you, MissGrahame, and I don't know how to thank you enough for all the pleasureyou have given these dear children. "

"Oh, no!" cried Hildegarde. "Please don't! It is I who must thank youand the children and all. I wish Rose--I wish my friend had come. Shewould have known; she would have said just the right thing to each one. Next time I shall bring her. "

But "Nein! Müssen selbst kommen!" cried Fritzerl; and "You come, Lady!"shouted all the others. And as Hildegarde passed back through the longroom where the sick children lay, Benny woke from his nap, and shouted, "Sing-girl! _my_ sing-girl! come back soon!"

So, half laughing and half crying, Hildegarde passed out, her heart veryfull of painful pleasure. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 

Rose was wonderfully better. Every day in the clear, bracing air ofBywood seemed to bring fresh vigor to her frame, fresh color to hercheeks. She began to take regular walks, instead of strolling a littleway, leaning on her friend's stronger arm. Together the girls exploredall the pleasant places of the neighborhood, which were many; hunted forrare ferns, with tin plant-boxes hanging from their belts, or stalkedthe lonely cardinal-flower, as it nodded over some woodland brook. Oftenthey took the little boat, and made long expeditions down the pleasantriver, --Hildegarde rowing, Rose couched at her ease in the stern. Oncethey came to the mouth of a stream which they pleased themselves byimagining to be unknown to mankind. Dipping the oars gently, Hildegardedrew the boat on and on, between high, dark banks of hemlock and pineand white birch. Here were cardinal-flowers, more than they had everseen before, rank behind rank, all crowding down to the water's edge tosee their beauty mirrored in the clear, dark stream. They were toobeautiful to pick. But Hildegarde took just one, as a memento, and evenfor that one the spirit of the enchanted place seemed to be angered; forthere was a flash of white barred wings, a loud shrill cry, and theycaught the gleam of two fierce black eyes, as something whirred pastthem across the stream, and vanished in the woods beyond. 

"Oh! what was it?" cried Hildegarde. "Have we done a dreadful thing?"

"Only a kingfisher!" said Rose, laughing. "But I don't believe we oughtto have picked his flower. This is certainly a fairy place! Move on, orhe may cast a spell over us, and we shall turn into two black stones. "

One day, however, they had a stranger adventure than that of the HalcyonStream, as they named the mysterious brook. They had been walking in thewoods; and Rose, being tired, had stopped to rest, while Hildegardepursued a "yellow swallow-tail" among the trees. Rose establishedherself on the trunk of a fallen tree, whose upturned roots made a mostcomfortable armchair, all tapestried with emerald moss. She looked abouther with great content; counted the different kinds of moss growingwithin immediate reach, and found six; tried to decide which was theprettiest, and finding this impossible, gave it up, and fell to watchingthe play of the sunshine as it came twinkling through the branches ofoak and pine. Green and gold!--those were the colors the fairy princesalways wore, she thought. It was the most perfect combination in theworld; and she hummed a verse of one of Hildegarde's ballads:--

 "Gold and green, gold and green, She was the lass that was born a queen. Velvet sleeves to her grass-green gown, And clinks o' gold in her hair so brown. "

Presently the girl noticed that in one place the trees were thinner, andthat the light came strongly through, as from an open space beyond. Didthe wood end here, then? She rose, and parting the leaves, movedforward, till all of a sudden she stopped short, in amazement. Forsomething strange was before her. In an open green space, with theforest all about it, stood a house, --not a deserted house, nor atumbledown log-hut, such as one often sees in Maine, but a trim, prettycottage, painted dark red, with a vine-covered piazza, and a miniaturelawn, smooth and green, sloping down to a fringe of willows, beyondwhich was heard the murmur of an unseen brook. The shutters were closed, and there was no sign of life about the place, yet all was in perfectorder; all looked fresh and well cared for, as if the occupants had gonefor a walk or drive, and might return at any moment. A drive? Hark! wasnot that the sound of wheels, even at this moment, on the neatgravel-path? Rose drew back instinctively, letting the branches close infront of her. Yet, she thought, there could be no harm in her peepingjust for a moment, to see who these forest-dwellers might be. A fairyprince? a queenly maiden in gold and green? Laughing at her ownthoughts, she leaned forward to peep through the leafy screen. What washer astonishment when round the corner came the familiar head of Dr. Abernethy, with the carryall behind him, Jeremiah driving, and MissWealthy sitting on the back seat! Rose could not believe her eyes atfirst, and thought she must be asleep on the tree-trunk, and dreaming itall. Her second thought was, why should not Miss Bond know the people ofthe house? They were her neighbors; she had come to make a friendlycall. There was nothing strange about it. No! but it _was_ strange tosee the old lady, after mounting the steps slowly, draw a key from herpocket, deliberately open the door, and enter the house, closing thedoor after her. Jeremiah drove slowly round to the back of the house. Ina few moments the shutters of the lower rooms were flung back. MissWealthy stood at the window for a few minutes, gazing out thoughtfully;then she disappeared. 

Rose was beginning to feel very guilty, as if she had seen what sheought not to see. A sense of sadness, of mystery, weighed heavily on hersensitive spirit. Very quietly she stole back to her tree-trunk, and waspresently joined by Hildegarde, flushed and radiant, with the butterflysafe in her plant-box, a quick and merciful pinch having converted himinto a "specimen" before he fairly knew that he was caught. Rose toldher tale, and Hildegarde wondered, and in her turn went to look at themysterious house. 

"How _very_ strange!" she said, returning. "I hardly know why it is sostrange, for of course there might be all kinds of things to account forit. It may be the house of some one who has gone away and asked CousinWealthy to come and look at it occasionally. The people _may_ be in it, and like to have the blinds all shut. And yet--yet, I don't believe itis so. I feel strange!"

"Come away!" said Rose, rising. "Come home; it is a secret, and not oursecret. "

And home they went, very silent, and forgetting to look for maiden-hair, which they had come specially to seek. 

But girls are girls; and Hildegarde and Rose could not keep theirthoughts from dwelling on the house in the wood. After someconsultation, they decided that there would be no harm in asking Marthaabout it. If she put them off, or seemed unwilling to speak, then theywould try to forget what they had seen, and keep away from that part ofthe woods; if not--

So it happened that the next day, while Miss Wealthy was taking herafter-dinner nap, the two girls presented themselves at the door ofMartha's little sewing-room, where she sat with her sleeves rolled up, hemming pillow-cases. It was a sunny little room, with a pleasant smellof pennyroyal about it. There was a little mahogany table that mighthave done duty as a looking-glass, and indeed did reflect the wonderfulbouquet of wax flowers that adorned it; a hair-cloth rocking-chair, anda comfortable wooden one with a delightful creak, without which Marthawould not have felt at home. On the walls were some bright prints, and aframed temperance pledge (Martha had never tasted anything stronger thanshrub, and considered that rather a dangerous stimulant); and theDeathbed of Lincoln, with a wooden Washington diving out of stony cloudsto receive the departing spirit. 

"May we come in, Martha?" asked Hildegarde. "We have brought our work, and we want to ask you about something. "

"Come in, and welcome!" responded Martha. "Glad to see you, --if you canmake yourselves comfortable, that is. I'll get another chair from--"

"No, indeed, you will not!" said Hildegarde. "Rose shall sit in thisrocking-chair, and I will take the window-seat, which is better thananything else; so, there we are, all settled! Now, Martha--" Shehesitated a moment, and Rose shrank back and made a little deprecatorymovement with her hand; but Hildegarde was not to be stopped. "Martha, we have seen the house in the wood. We just happened on it by chance, and we saw--we saw Cousin Wealthy go in. And we want to know if you cantell us about it, or if Cousin Wealthy would not like us to be told. Youwill know, of course. "

She paused. A shadow had crossed Martha's cheerful, wise face; and shesighed and stitched away in silence at her pillow-case for some minutes, while the girls waited with outward patience. At last, "I don't know whyI shouldn't tell you, young ladies, " she said slowly. "It's no harm, and no secret; only, of course, you wouldn't speak of it to her, poordear!"

She was silent again, collecting her words; for she was slow of speech, this good Martha. "That house, " she said at last, "belongs to Miss Bond. It was built just fifty years ago by the young man she was going tomarry. " Hildegarde drew in her breath quickly, with a low cry ofsurprise, but made no further interruption. 

"He was a fine young gentleman, I've been told by all as had seen him;tall and handsome, with a kind of foreign way with him, very taking. Hewas brought up in France, and almost as soon as he came out here (hispeople were from Castine, and had French blood) he met Miss Bond, andthey fell in love with each other at sight, as they say. She lived herein this same house with her father (her mother was dead), and she wasas sweet as a June rose, and a picture to look at. Ah! dear me, dear me!Poor lamb! I never saw her then. I was a baby, as you may say; leastwisea child of three or four. 

"Old Mary told me all about it when first I came, --old Mary washousekeeper here forty years, and died ten year ago. Well, she used tosay it was a picture to see Miss Wealthy when she was expecting Mr. LaRose (Victor La Rose was his name). She would put on a white gown, witha bunch of pansies in the front of it; they were his favorite flowers, Mary said, and he used to call her his Pansy, which means something inFrench, I don't rightly know what; and then she would come out on thelawn, and look and look down river. Most times he came up in hissail-boat, --he loved the water, and was more at home on it than on land, as you may say. And when she saw the white boat coming round the bend, she would flush all up, old Mary said, like one of them damask roses inyour belt, Miss Hilda; and her eyes would shine and sparkle, and she'dclap her hands like a child, and run down to the wharf to meet him. Standing there, with her lovely hair blowing about in the wind, shewould look more like a spirit, Mary would say, than a mortal person. Then when the boat touched the wharf, she would hold out her littlehands to help him up; and he, so strong and tall, was glad to be helped, just to touch her hand. And so they would come up to the house together, holding of hands, like two happy children. And full of play they was, tossing flowers about and singing and laughing, all for the joy of beingtogether, as you may say; and she always with a pansy for hisbutton-hole the first thing; and he looking down so proud and lovingwhile she fastened it in. And most times he'd bring her something, --abox of chocolate, or a new book, or whatever it was, --but old Marythought she was best pleased when he came with nothing but himself. Andboth of them that loving and care-taking to the old gentleman, as onedon't often see in young folks courting; making him sit with them on thepiazza after tea, and the young man telling all he'd seen and done sincethe last time; and then she would take her guitar and sing the sweetest, old Mary said, that ever was sung out of heaven. Then by and by old Mr. Bond would go away in to his book, and they would sit and talk, or walkin the moonlight, or perhaps go out on the water. She was a great handfor the water, Mary said; and never's been on it since that time. Notthat it's to wonder at, to my mind. Ah, dear me!

"Well, my dears, they was to be married in the early fall, as it mightbe September. He had built that pretty house, so as she needn't be farfrom her father, who was getting on in years, and she his only child. Hefurnished it beautiful, every room like a best parlor, --carpets andsofys and lace curt'ins, --there was nothing too good. But her own roomwas all pansies, --everything made to order, with that pattern andnothing else. It's a sight to see to-day, fifty years since 't was allfresh and new. 

"One day--my dear young ladies, the ways of the Lord are very strange bytimes, but we must truly think that they _are_ his ways, and so betterthan ours, --one day Miss Wealthy was looking for her sweetheart at theusual time of his coming, about three o'clock in the afternoon. Themorning had been fine, but the weather seemed to be coming up bad, Marythought; and old Mr. Bond thought so, too, for he came out on the piazzawhere Mary was sorting out garden-herbs, and said, 'Daughter, I thinkVictor will drive to-day. There is a squall coming up; it isn't a goodday for the water. '

"And it wasn't, Mary said; for an ugly black cloud was coming over, andunder it the sky looked green and angry. 

"But Miss Wealthy only laughed, and shook her yellow curls back, --likecurling sunbeams, Mary said they was, and said, 'Victor doesn't mindsqualls, Father dear. He has been in gales and hurricanes and cyclones, and do you think he will stop for a river flaw? See! there is the boatnow, coming round the bend. ' And there, sure enough, came the whitesailboat, flying along as if she was alive, old Mary said. Miss Wealthyran out on the lawn and waved her handkerchief, and they saw the youngman stand up in the boat and wave his in return. And then--oh, dear! oh, dear me!--Mary said, it seemed as if something black came rushingacross the water and struck the boat like a hand; and down she went, andin a moment there was nothing to see, only the water all black andhissing, and the wind tearing the tree-tops. "

"Oh! but he could swim!" cried Hildegarde, pale and breathless. 

"He was a noble swimmer, my dear!" said Martha, sadly. "But it came toosudden, you see. He had turned to look at his sweetheart, poor younggentleman, and wave to her, and in that moment it came. He hadn't timeto clear himself, and was tangled in the ropes, and held down by thesail. Oh, don't ask me any more! But he was drowned, that is all of it. Death needs only a moment, and has that moment always ready. Eh, dear!My poor, sweet lady!"

There was a pause; for Rose was weeping, and Hildegarde could not speak, though her eyes were dry and shining. 

Presently Martha continued: "The poor dear fell back into her father'sarms, and he and Mary carried her into the house; and then came a long, sad time. For days and days they couldn't make her believe but that hewas saved, for she knew he was a fine swimmer; but at last, when all wasover, and the body found and buried, they brought her a little box thatthey found in his pocket, all soaked with water, --oh, dear!--and in itwas that pin, --the stone pansy, as she always wears, and will till theday she dies. Then she knew, and she lay back in her bed, and theythought she would never leave it. But folks don't often die that way, Miss Hilda and Miss Rose. Trouble is for us to live through, not to dieby; and she got well, and comforted her father, and by and by shelearned how to smile again, though that was not for a long time. Thepoor gentleman had made a will, giving the new house to her, and all hehad; for he had no near kin living. Mr. Bond wanted her to sell it; but, oh! she wouldn't hear to it. All these years--fifty long years, MissHilda!--she has kept that house in apple-pie order. Once a month I goover, as old Mary did before me, and sweep it from top to bottom, andwash the windows. And three times a week she--Miss Bond--goes overherself, as you saw her to-day, and sits an hour or so, and puts freshpansies in the vases; and Jeremiah keeps the lawn mowed, odd times, andeverything in good shape. It's a strange fancy, to my idea; but there!it's her pleasure. In winter, when she can't go, of course, for thesnow, she is always low-spirited, poor lady! I was _so_ glad Mrs. Grahame asked her to go to New York last winter!

"And now, young ladies, " said Martha, gathering up her pillow-cases, "Ishould be in my kitchen, seeing about supper. That is all the story ofthe house in the wood. And you'll not let it make you too sad, seeing 'twas the Lord's doing; and to look at her now, you'd never think but whather life had been of her own choosing, and she couldn't have had anyother. "

Very quietly and sadly the girls went to their rooms, and sat hand inhand, and talked in whispers of what they had heard. The brightness ofthe day seemed gone; they could hardly bear the pain of sympathy, oftender pity, that filled their young hearts. They could not understandhow there could ever be rallying from such a blow. They knew nothing ofhow long passing years turn bitter to sweet, and build a lovely "Houseof Rest" over what was once a black gulf of anguish and horror. 

Miss Wealthy's cheerful face, when they went down to tea, struck themwith a shock; they had almost expected to find it pale andtear-stained, and could hardly command their usual voices in speaking toher. The good lady was quite distressed. "My dear Rose, " she said, "youlook very pale and tired. I am quite sure you must have walked too farto-day. You would better go to bed very early, my dear, and Martha shallgive you a hop pillow. Very soothing a hop pillow is, when one is tired. And, Hilda, you are not in your usual spirits. I trust you are nothomesick, my child! You have not touched your favorite cream-cheese. "

Both girls reassured her, feeling rather ashamed of themselves; andafter tea Hildegarde read "Bleak House" aloud, and then they had a gameof casino, and the evening passed off quite cheerfully. 

CHAPTER XI. 

"UP IN THE MORNING EARLY. "

"One! two! three! four! five! six!" said the clock in the hall. 

"Yes, I know it!" replied Hildegarde, sitting up in bed; and then sheslipped quietly out and went to call Rose. 

"Get up, you sleepy flower!" she said, shaking her friend gently, --

 "À l'heure où s'éveille la rose, Ne vas-tu pas te réveiller?"

Rose sighed, as she always did at the sound of the "impossiblelanguage, " as she called the French, over which she struggled for anhour every day; but got up obediently, and made a hasty and fragmentarytoilet, ending with a waterproof instead of a dress. Then each girl tooka blue bundle and a brown bath towel, and softly they slippeddownstairs, making no noise, and out into the morning air, and away downthe path to the river. Every blade of grass was awake, and a-quiver withthe dewdrop on its tip; the trees showered pearls and diamonds on thetwo girls, as they brushed past them; the birds were singing andfluttering and twittering on every branch, as if the whole worldbelonged to them, as indeed it did. On the river lay a mantle of softwhite mist, curling at the edges, and lifting here and there; and intothis mist the sun was striking gold arrows, turning the white to silver, and breaking through it to meet the blue flash of the water. Graduallythe mist rose, and floated in the air; and now it was a maiden, a youngTitaness, rising from her sleep, with trailing white robes, whichcaught on the trees and the points of rock, and hung in fleecy tatterson the hillside, and curled in snowy circles through the coves andhollows. At last she laid her long white arms over the hill-tops, andlifted her fair head, and so melted quite away and was gone, and the sunhad it all his own way. 

Then Hildegarde and Rose, who had been standing in silent delight andwonder, gave each a sigh of pleasure, and hugged each other a little, because it was so beautiful, and went into the boat-house. Thence theyreappeared in a few minutes, clad in close-fitting raiment of blueflannel, their arms bare, their hair knotted in Gothic fashion on top oftheir heads. Then Hildegarde stood on the edge of the wharf, and rose onthe tips of her toes, and joined her palms high above her head, thensprang into the air, describing an arc, and disappeared with a silversplash which rivalled that of her own sturgeon. But Rose, who could notdive, just sat down on the wharf and then rolled off it, in the mostcomfortable way possible. When they both came up, there was muchpuffing, and shaking of heads, and little gasps and shrieks of delight. The water by the wharf was nearly up to the girls' shoulders, andfarther than this Rose could not go, as she could not swim; so a ropehad been stretched from the end of the wharf to the shore, and on thisshe swung, like the mermaids on the Atlantic cable, in Tenniel'scharming picture, and floated at full length, and played a thousandgambols. She could see the white pebbled bottom through the clear water, and her own feet as white as the pebbles (Rose had very pretty feet; andnow that they were no longer useless appendages, she could not helpliking to look at them, though she was rather ashamed of it). Now sheswung herself near the shore, and caught hold of the twisted roots ofthe great willow that leaned over the water, and pulled the branchesdown till they fell like a green canopy over her; and now she splashedthe water about, for pure pleasure of seeing the diamond showers as thesunlight caught them. But Hildegarde swam out into the middle of theriver, cleaving the blue water with long, regular strokes; and thenturned on her back, and lay contemplating the universe with infinitecontent. 

"You are still in the shade, you poor Rosebud!" she cried. "See! I amright _in_ the sparkle. I can gather gold with both hands. How manybroad pieces will you have?" She sent a shower of drops toward theshore, which Rose returned with interest; and a battle-royal ensued, inwhich the foam flew left and right, and the smooth water was churnedinto a thousand eddies. 

"I am the Plesiosaurus!" cried Hildegarde, giving a mighty splash. "Beware! beware! my flashing eyes, my floating hair!"

"Shade of Coleridge, forgive her!" exclaimed Rose, dashing a returnvolley of pearly spray. "And the Plesiosaurus had no hair; otherwise, Imay say I have often observed the resemblance. Well, I am theIchthyosaurus! You remember the picture in the 'Journey to the Centre ofthe Earth'?"

Hildegarde replied by plunging toward her, rearing her head in asserpentine a manner as she could command; and after a struggle the twomighty saurians went down together in a whirlpool of frothing waves. They came up quite out of breath, and sat laughing and panting on thewillow root, which in one place curved out in such a way as to make acharming seat. 

"Look at Grandfather Bullfrog!" said Rose. "He is shocked at ourbehavior. We are big enough to know better, aren't we, sir?" Sheaddressed with deep respect an enormous brown bullfrog, who had come upto see what was the matter, and who sat on a stone surveying the pairwith a look of indignant amazement. 

"Coax! coax! Brek-ke-ke-kex!" cried Hildegarde. "That is the onlysentence of frog-talk I know. It is in a story of Hans Andersen's. Doyou see, Rose? He understands; he winked in a most expressive manner. Whom did you get for a wife, when you found Tommelise had run away fromyou; and what became of the white butterfly?"

The bullfrog evidently resented this inquiry into his most privateaffairs, and disappeared with an indignant "Glump!"

"Now you shall see me perform the great Nose and Toe Act!" saidHildegarde, jumping from the seat and swimming to the end of the wharf. "I promised to show it to you, you remember. " She seized the great toeof her left foot with the right hand, and grasping her nose with theleft, threw herself backward into the water. 

Rose waited in breathless suspense for what seemed an interminable time;but at length there was a glimmer under the water, then a break, and upcame the dauntless diver, gasping but triumphant, still grasping thenose and toe. 

"I didn't--let go!" she panted. "I didn't--half--think I could do it, itis so long since I tried. "

"I thought you would never come up again!" cried Rose. "It is a dreadfulthing to do. You might as well be the Great Northern Diver at once. Areyou sure there isn't a web growing between your toes?"

"Oh, that is nothing!" said Hildegarde, laughing. "You should see Papaturn back somersaults in the water. _That_ is worth seeing! Look!" sheadded, a moment after, "there is a log floating down. I wonder if I canwalk on it. " She swam to the log, which was coming lazily along with thecurrent; tried to climb on it, and rolled over with it promptly, toRose's great delight. But, nothing daunted, she tried again and yetagain, and finally succeeded in standing up on the log, holding out herarms to balance herself. A pretty picture she made, --lithe and slenderas a reed, her fair face all aglow with life and merriment, and thesunshine all round her. "See!" she cried, "I am Taglioni, the queen ofthe ballet. I had--a--_oh!_ I _nearly_ went over that time--I had apaper-doll once, named Taglioni. She was truly--lovely! You stood her ona piece of wood--just like this; only there was a crack which held hertoes, and this has no crack. Now I will perform the Grand Pas de Fée!La-la-tra-la--if I can only get to this end, now! Rose, I forbid you tolaugh. You shake the log with your empty mirth. La-la-la--" Here thelog, which had its own views, turned quietly over, and the queen of theballet disappeared with a loud splash, while Rose laughed till shenearly lost hold of her rope. 

But now the water-frolic had lasted long enough, and it was nearlybreakfast-time. Very reluctantly the girls left the cool delight of thewater, and shaking themselves like two Newfoundland dogs, ran into theboat-house, with many exclamations over the good time they had had. 

At breakfast they found Miss Wealthy looking a little troubled over anote which she had just received by mail. It was from Mrs. Murray, thematron of the Children's Hospital. 

"Perhaps you would read it to me, Hilda dear!" she said. "I cannot makeit out very well. Mrs. Murray's hand is very illegible, or it may bepartly because I have not my reading-glasses. " So Hilda read asfollows:--

 DEAR MISS BOND, --Is there any one in your neighborhood who would take a child to board for a few weeks? Little Benny May, a boy of four years, very bright and attractive, is having a slow recovery from pneumonia, and has had one relapse. I dare not send him home, where he would be neglected by a very careless mother; nor can we keep him longer here. I thought you might possibly know of some good, motherly woman, who would take the little fellow, and let him run about in the sunshine and drink milk, for that is what he needs. 

 With kind regards to your niece, whom I hope we shall see again, Always sincerely yours, ELIZABETH MURRAY. 

Miss Wealthy listened attentively, and shook her head; buttered amuffin, stirred her tea a little, and shook her head again. "I can'tthink, " she said slowly and meditatively, "of a soul. I really--" Buthere she was interrupted, though not by words. For Hildegarde and Rosehad been exchanging a whole battery of nods and smiles and kindlingglances; and now the former sprang from her seat, and came and knelt byMiss Wealthy's chair, and looked up in her face with mute but eloquentappeal. 

"My dear!" said the old lady. "What is it? what do you want? Isn't theegg perfectly fresh? I will call--" But Hildegarde stayed her hand asit moved toward the bell. 

"I want Benny!" she murmured, in low and persuasive tones, caressing thesoft withered hand she had taken. 

"A penny!" cried Miss Wealthy. "My _dear_ child, certainly! Any smallamount I will most gladly give you; though, dear Hilda, you are ratherold, perhaps, --at least your mother might think so, --to--"

"Oh, Cousin Wealthy, how _can_ you?" cried Hildegarde, springing up, andturning scarlet, though she could not help laughing. "I didn't say_penny_, I said _Benny_! I want the little boy! Rose and I both wanthim, to take care of. Mayn't we have him, _please_? We may not bemotherly, but we are very sisterly, --at least Rose is, and I know Icould learn, --and we would take such good care of him, and we _do_ wanthim so!" She paused for breath; and Miss Wealthy leaned back in herchair, and looked bewildered. 

"A child! here!" she said; and she looked round the room, as if sherather expected the pictures to fall from the walls at the bare idea. Inthis survey she perceived that one picture hung slightly askew. Shesighed, and made a motion to rise; but Hildegarde flew to straighten therefractory frame, and then returned to the charge. 

"He is very small!" she said meekly. "He could sleep in my room, and wewould wash and dress him and keep him quiet _all_ the time. "

"A child!" repeated Miss Wealthy, speaking as if half in a dream; "alittle child, here!" Then she smiled a little, and then the tears filledher soft blue eyes, and she gave something like a sob. "I don't knowwhat Martha would say!" she cried. "It might disturb Martha;otherwise--"

But Martha was at her elbow, and laid a quiet hand on her mistress'sarm. "Sure we would all like it, Mam!" she said in her soothing, eventones. "'T would be like a sunbeam in the house, so it would. You'dbetter let the child come, Mam!"

So it was settled; and the very next day Hildegarde and Rose, escortedby Jeremiah, went to Fairtown, and returned in triumph, bringing littleBenny with them. 

Benny's eyes were naturally well opened, but by the time he reached thehouse they were staring very wide indeed. He held Hildegarde's hand verytight, and looked earnestly up at the vine-clad walls of the cottage. "Don't want to go in vere!" he said, hanging back, and putting hisfinger in his mouth. "Want to go back!"

"Oh, yes!" said Hildegarde. "You do want to come in here, Benny. Thatis what we have come for, you know. I am going to show you all sorts ofpretty things, --picture-books, and shells, and a black kitty--"

But here she had touched a string that wakened a train of reflection inBenny's mind; his lip began to quiver. "Want--my--Nelephant!" he saidpiteously. "He's lef' alone--wiv fits. Want to go back to my Nelephant. "An ominous sniff followed; an outbreak of tears was imminent. 

Hildegarde caught him up in her arms and ran off toward the garden. Shecould _not_ have him cry, she thought, just at the first moment. CousinWealthy would be upset, and might never get rid of the first impression. It would spoil everything! The little fellow was already sobbing on hershoulder, and as she ran she began hastily to repeat the first thingthat came into her mind. 

 "Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste To the Butterfly's Ball and the Grasshopper's Feast. The trumpeter Gadfly has summoned the crew, And the revels are now only waiting for you!

 "On the smooth-shaven grass by the side of the wood, Beneath a broad oak that for ages has stood, See the children of earth and the tenants of air For an evening's amusement together repair. "

The sobs had ceased, and Hildegarde paused for breath; but the armtightened round her neck, and the baby voice, still tearful, cried, "Sing! Sing-girl want to sing!"

"Oh me!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. "You little Old Man of the Sea, howcan I run and sing too?" She sat down under the laburnum-tree, andtaking the two tiny hands in hers, began to pat them together, while shewent on with the "Butterfly's Ball, " singing it now to the tune of acertain hornpipe, which fitted it to perfection. She had not heard theverses since she was a little girl, but she could never forget thedelight of her childhood. 

 "And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black, Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back. And there came the Gnat, and the Dragon-fly too, With all their relations, green, orange, and blue. 

 "And there came the Moth--"

At this moment came something else, more welcome than the moth wouldhave been; for Rose appeared, bearing a mug in one hand, and in theother--what?

"Cow!" cried Benny, sitting upright, and stretching out both arms inrapture. "_My_ cow! mine! all mine!"

"Yes, your cow, dear, for now!" said Rose, setting the treasure down onthe table. "Look, Benny! she is such a good cow! She is going to giveyou some milk, --nice, fresh milk!"

The brown crockery cow was indeed a milk-jug; and Benny's blue eyes andHildegarde's gray ones opened wide in amazement as Rose, grasping thecreature's tail and tilting her forward, poured a stream of milk fromher open mouth into the mug. The child laughed, and clapped his handswith delight. 

"Where did you get it?" asked Hildegarde in a low tone, as she held themug to Benny's lips. 

"Saint Martha!" replied Rose, smiling. "It belonged to her grandmother. She brought it down just now, and said she had seen many a child quietedwith it, and the little one would very likely be for crying at first, ina strange place! Isn't it nice?"

"Nice!" said Hildegarde; "I never want to drink out of anything else buta brown cow. Dear Martha! and observe the effect!"

Indeed, Benny was laughing, and patting the cow, and chattering to it, as if no such thing as a gray rubber elephant had ever existed. Sofickle is childhood!

CHAPTER XII. 

BENNY. 

Benny took possession of his kingdom, and ruled it with a firm, thoughfor the most part an indulgent hand. Miss Wealthy succumbed from thefirst moment, when he advanced boldly toward her, and laying a chubbyhand on her knee, said, "I like you. Is you' hair made of spoons? it isall silver. "

Martha was his slave, and lay in wait for him at all hours withgingerbread-men and "cooky"-cows; while the two girls were nurses, playmates, and teachers by turns. Jeremiah wheeled him in thewheelbarrow, and suffered him to kick his shins, and might often be seensedately at work hoeing or raking, with the child sitting astride onhis shoulders, and drumming with sturdy heels against his breast. Onemember of the family alone resisted the sovereign charm of childhood;one alone held aloof in cold disdain, refusing to touch the little handor answer the piping voice. That one was Samuel Johnson. The greatDoctor was deeply offended at the introduction of this new element intothe household. He had not been consulted; he would have nothing to dowith it! So when Miss Wealthy introduced Benny to him the day after thechild arrived, and waited anxiously for an expression of his opinion, the Doctor put up his great back, expanded his tail till it looked likea revolving street-sweeper, and uttering an angry "Fsss! spt!" walkedaway in high dudgeon. 

Benny was delighted. "Funny old kyat!" he cried, clapping his hands. "Say 'Fsss' some more! Hi, ole kyat! I catch you. "

Hildegarde caught him up in her arms as he was about to pursue theretiring dignitary, and Miss Wealthy looked deeply distressed. 

"My dears, what shall we do?" she said. "This is very unfortunate. If Ihad thought the Doctor--but the little fellow is so sweet, I thought hewould be pleased and amused. We must try to keep them away from eachother. Or perhaps, if the little dear would try to propitiate theDoctor, --you have no idea how sensitive he is, and how he feels anythinglike disrespect, --if he were to _try_ to propitiate him, he might--"

 "Vat ole kyat, He's too fat!"

shouted Benny, stamping his feet to emphasize the metre, --

 "Vat ole kyat He's too fat! _He_ ought to go AND catch a rat!"

"Come, Benny!" said Hildegarde, hastily, as she caught a glare from theDoctor's yellow eyes that fairly frightened her. "Come out with me andget some flowers. " And as they went she heard Miss Wealthy's voiceaddressing the great cat in humble and deprecatory tones. As she walkedabout in the garden holding the child's hand, Hildegarde tried toexplain to him that he must be very polite to Dr. Johnson, who was notat all a common cat, and should be treated with great respect. 

But Benny's bump of reverence was small. "Huh!" he said. "_I_ isn't'fraid of kyats, sing-girl! You 's 'fraid, but I isn't. I had brownkitties, only I never seed 'em. Dr. Brown is a liar!" he added suddenly, with startling emphasis. 

"Why, Benny!" cried Hildegarde. "What do you mean? You mustn't say suchthings, dear child. "

"He _is_ a liar!" Benny maintained stoutly. "He said ve brown kittieswas in my froat. Vey wasn't; so he's a liar. P'r'aps he's 'fraid too, but I isn't. "

For several days the greatest care was taken to keep Benny out of Dr. Johnson's way. When the imperious mew was heard at the dining-room doorafter dinner, the child was hurried through with the last spoonfuls ofhis pudding, and whisked away to the parlor before the cat was let in. Nor would Miss Wealthy herself go into the parlor when the Doctor hadfinished his dessert, till she was sure that Benny had been taken out ofdoors. Hildegarde was inclined to remonstrate at this course of action, but Miss Wealthy would not listen to her. 

"My dear, " she said, "it does not do to trifle with a character like theDoctor's. I tremble to think what he might do if once thoroughly rousedto anger. He is accustomed to respect, and demands it; and we mustremember, my dear, that even in the domestic cat lies dormant the spiritof the Royal Bengal Tiger. No, my dear Hildegarde, we are responsiblefor this child's life, and we must at any cost keep him out of theDoctor's way. "

But fate, which rules both cats and tigers, had ordained otherwise. Oneday Hildegarde had gone out to the stable to give a message to Jeremiah, and had left Benny playing by the back door, where Martha had promisedto "have an eye to him" as she shelled the peas. 

[Illustration: "'OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!'"]

On her return, Hildegarde found that the child had run round to thefront of the house; and she followed in that direction, led by the soundof his voice, which resounded loud and clear. Whom was he talking to?Hildegarde wondered. Rose was upstairs writing letters, and CousinWealthy was taking a nap. But now the words were plainly audible. "Dee ole kitty! Oh, _such_ a dee ole kitty! Ole fat kyat, I lubby you. "

Holding her breath, Hildegarde peeped round the corner of the house. There on the piazza, lay Dr. Johnson, fast asleep in the sunshine; andbeside him stood Benny, regarding him with affectionate satisfaction. "Iain't seed you for yever so long, ole fat kyat!" he continued; "wherehas you been? You is _so_ fat, you make a nice pillow for Benny. Bennygo to sleep with ole fat kyat for a pillow. " And to Hildegarde's mingledhorror and amusement, the child curled himself up on the piazza floor, and deliberately laid his head on the broad black side of the sleepinglexicographer. The great cat opened his yellow eyes with a start, andturned his head to see "what thing upon his back had got. " There was amoment of suspense. Hildegarde's first impulse was to rush forward andsnatch the child away; her second was to stand perfectly still. "_Dee_ole kitty!" murmured Benny, in dulcet tones. "P'ease don't move! Benny_so_ comfortable! Benny lubs his sweet ole pillow-kyat! Go to s'eepagain, dee ole kitty!"

The Doctor lay motionless. His eyes wandered over the little figure, thesmall hands nestled in his own thick fur, the rosy face which smiled athim with dauntless assurance. Who shall say what thoughts passed in thatmoment through the mind of the representative of the Royal Bengal Tiger?Presently his muscles relaxed. His magnificent tail, which had againexpanded to thrice its natural size, sank; he uttered a faint mew, andthe next moment a sound fell on Hildegarde's ear, like the distantmuttering of thunder, or the roll of the surf on a far-off sea-beach. Dr. Johnson was purring!

After this all was joy. The barriers were removed, and the child and thecat became inseparable companions. Miss Wealthy beamed with delight, and called upon the girls to observe how, in this most remarkableanimal, intellect had triumphed over the feline nature. She was even alittle jealous, when the Doctor forsook his hassock beside her chair togo and play at ball with Benny; but this was a passing feeling. Allagreed, however, that a line must be drawn somewhere; and when Bennydemanded to have his dinner on the floor with his "sweet ole kyat, " fourheads were shaken at him quite severely, and he was told that cats weregood to play with, but not to eat with. In spite of which Rose washorrified, the next day, to find him crouched on all-fours, lapping fromone side of the Doctor's saucer, while he, purring like a Sound steamer, lapped on the other. 

Benny did another thing one day. Oh, Benny did another thing! Rose wasteaching him his letters in the parlor, and he was putting them intometre, as he was apt to put everything, --

 "_A_, B, _C_, D, _Fiddle_, diddle, _Yes_, I see!"

And with each emphasis he jumped up and down, as if to jolt the lettersinto his head. 

"Try to stand still, Benny dear!" said gentle Rose. 

But Benny said he couldn't remember them if he stood still. "_A_, B, _C_, D! _E_, F, _jiggle_ G!" This time he jumped backward, and flung hisarms about to illustrate the "jiggle;" and--and he knocked over thepeacock glass vase, and it fell on the marble hearth, and broke intofifty pieces. Oh! it was very dreadful. Mrs. Grahame had brought thepeacock vase from Paris to Miss Wealthy, and it was among her mostcherished trifles; shaped like a peacock, with outspread tail, andshining with beautiful iridescent tints of green and blue. Now it layin glittering fragments on the floor, and timid Rose felt as if she weretoo wicked to live, and wished she were back at the Farm, where therewere no vases, but only honest blue willow-ware. 

At this very moment the door opened, and Miss Wealthy came in. Roseshrank back for a moment behind the tall Japanese screen; not to concealherself, but to gather her strength together for the ordeal. Her longyears of illness had left her sensitive beyond description; and now, though she knew that she had done nothing, and that the child would meetonly the gentlest of plaintive reproofs, her heart was beating so hardthat she felt suffocated, her cheeks were crimson, her eyes suffusedwith tears. But Benny was equal to the emergency. His cheeks were veryred, too, and his eyes opened very wide; but he went straight up to MissWealthy and said in a clear, high-pitched voice, --

"I've broke vat glass fing which was a peacock. I'm sorry I broke vatglass fing which was a peacock. I shouldn't fink you would leave glassfings round for little boys to hit wiv veir little hands and break vem. You is old enough to know better van vat. I know you is old enough, 'cause you' hair is all spoons, and people is old when veir hair isspoons, --I mean silver. " Having said this with unfaltering voice, thechild suddenly and without the slightest warning burst into a loud roar, and cried and screamed and sobbed as if his heart would break. 

Rose was at his side in an instant, and told the story of the accident. And Miss Wealthy, after one pathetic glance at the fragments of herfavorite ornament, fell to wiping the little fellow's eyes with her finecambric handkerchief, and telling him that it was "no matter! no matterat all, dear! Accidents _will_ happen, I suppose!" she added, turningto Rose with a sad little smile. "But, my dear, pray get the dust-pan atonce. The precious child might get a piece of glass into his foot, anddie of lockjaw. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

A SURPRISE. 

It was a lovely August morning. Hildegarde and Rose had the peas toshell for dinner, and had established themselves under the greatelm-tree, each with a yellow bowl and a blue-checked apron. Hildegardewas moreover armed with a book, for she had found out one can read andshell peas at the same time, and some of their pleasantest hours werepassed in this way, the primary occupation ranging from pea-shelling tothe paring of rosy apples or the stoning of raisins. So on this occasionthe sharp crack of the pods and the soft thud of the "Champions ofEngland" against the bowl kept time with Hildegarde's voice, as she readfrom Lockhart's ever-delightful "Life of Scott. " The girls were enjoyingthe book so much! For true lovers of the great Sir Walter, as they bothwere, what could be more interesting than to follow their hero throughthe varying phases of his noble life, --to learn how and where and underwhat circumstances each noble poem and splendid romance was written; andto feel through his own spoken or written words the beating of one ofthe greatest hearts the world ever knew. 

Hildegarde paused to laugh, after reading the description of the firstvisit of the Ettrick Shepherd to the Scotts at Lasswade; when the goodman, seeing Mrs. Scott, who was in delicate health, lying on a sofa, thought he could not do better than follow his hostess's example, andaccordingly stretched himself at full length, plaid and all, on anothercouch. 

"What an extraordinary man!" cried Rose, greatly amused. "How could hebe so very uncouth, and yet write the 'Skylark'?"

"After all, he was a plain, rough shepherd!" replied Hildegarde. "Andremember, 'The dewdrop that hangs from the rowan bough Is fine as the proudest rose can show. '

Leyden was a shepherd, too, who wrote the 'Mermaid' that I read you theother day; and Burns was a farmer's boy. What wonderful people the Scotsare!"

"On the whole, " said Rose, after a pause, "perhaps it isn't so strangefor a shepherd to be a poet. They sit all day out in the fields allalone with the sky and the sheep and the trees and flowers. One canimagine how the beauty and the stillness would sink into his heart, andturn into music and lovely words there. No one ever heard of abutcher-poet or a baker-poet--at least, I never did!--but a shepherd!There was the Shepherd Lord, too, that you told me about, and theShepherd of Salisbury Plain, in a funny little old book that Father had;by Hannah More, I think it was. And wasn't there a shepherd painter?"

"Of course! Giotto!" cried Hildegarde. "He was only ten years old whenCimabue found him drawing a sheep on a smooth stone. "

"It was in one of my school-readers, " said Rose. "Only the teachercalled him Guy Otto, and I supposed it was a contraction of the twonames, for convenience in printing. Then, " she added, after a moment, "there was David, when he was 'ruddy, and of a beautiful countenance. '"

"And Apollo, " cried Hildegarde, "when he kept the flocks of Admetus, youknow. "

"I don't know!" said Rose. "I thought Apollo was the god of the sun. "

"So he was!" replied Hildegarde. "But Jupiter was once angry with him, and banished him from Olympus. His sun-chariot was sent round the sky asusual, but empty; and he, poor dear, without his golden rays, came downto earth, and hired himself as a shepherd to King Admetus of Thessaly. All the other shepherds were very wild and savage, but Apollo played tothem on his lyre, and sang of all the beautiful things in the world, --ofspring, and the young grass, and the birds, and--oh! everything lovely. So at last he made them gentle, like himself, and taught them to sing, and play on the flute, and to love their life and the beautiful worldthey lived in. And so shepherds became the happiest people in theworld, and the most skilful in playing and singing, and in shooting withbow and arrows, which the god also taught them; till at last the godswere jealous, and called Apollo back to Olympus. Isn't it a prettystory? I read it in 'Télémaque, ' at school last winter. "

"Lovely!" said Rose. "Yes, I think I should like to be a shepherd. " Andstraightway she fell into a reverie, this foolish Rose, and fanciedherself wrapped in a plaid, lying in a broad meadow, spread with heatheras with a mantle, and here and there gray rocks, and sheep moving slowlyabout nibbling the heather. 

And as Hildegarde watched her pure sweet face, and saw it soften intodreamy languor and then kindle again with some bright thought, anotherpoem of the Ettrick Shepherd came to her mind, and she repeated theopening lines, half to herself:--

 "Bonny Kilmeny gaed up the glen; But it wasna to meet Duneira's men, Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see, For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. "

"Oh, go on, please!" murmured Rose, all unconscious that she was theKilmeny of her friend's thoughts:--

 "It was only to hear the yorlin sing, And pu' the cress-flower round the spring; The scarlet hypp and the hindberrye, And the nut that hung frae the hazel-tree: For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. But lang may her minny look o'er the wa', And lang may she seek i' the greenwood shaw; Lang the Laird of Duneira blame, And lang, lang greet or Kilmeny come hame. 

 "When many a day had come and fled, When grief grew calm, and hope was dead; When mass for Kilmeny's soul had been sung, When the bedesman had prayed and the dead-bell rung; Late, late in a gloamin', when all was still, When the fringe was red on the westlin hill, The wood was sear, the moon i' the wane, The reek o' the cot hung over the plain, Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane; When the ingle lowed with an eiry leme, Late, late in the gloamin' Kilmeny cam hame. "

Here Hildegarde stopped suddenly; for some one had come along the road, and was standing still, leaning against the fence, and apparentlylistening. It was a boy about eleven years old. He was neatly dressed, but his clothes were covered with dust, and his broad-brimmed straw hatwas slouched over his eyes so that it nearly hid his face, which wasalso turned away from the girls. But though he was apparently gazingearnestly in the opposite direction, still there was an air ofconsciousness about his whole figure, and Hildegarde was quite sure thathe had been listening to her. She waited a few minutes; and then, as theboy showed no sign of moving on, she called out, "What is it, please? Doyou want something?"

The boy made an awkward movement with his shoulders, and without turninground replied in an odd voice, half whine, half growl, "Got any coldvictuals, lady?"

"Come in!" said Hildegarde, rising, though she was not attracted eitherby the voice, nor by the lad's shambling, uncivil manner, --"come in, andI will get you something to eat. "

The boy still kept his back turned to her, but began sidling slowlytoward the gate, with a clumsy, crab-like motion. "I'm a poor feller, lady!" he whined, in the same disagreeable tone. "I ain't had nothin' toeat for a week, and I've got the rheumatiz in my j'ints. "

"_Nothing to eat for a week!_" exclaimed Hildegarde, severely. "My boy, you are not telling the truth. And who ever heard of rheumatism at yourage? Do you think we ought to let him in, Rose?" she added, in a lowertone. 

But the boy continued still sidling toward the gate. "I've got a wifeand seven little children, lady! They're all down with the small-pox andthe yeller--" But at this point his eloquence was interrupted, for Rosesprang from her seat, upsetting the basket of pods, and running forward, seized him by the shoulders. 

"You scamp!" she cried, shaking him with tender violence. "You naughtymonkey, how could you frighten us so? Oh, my dear, dear little lad, howdo you do?" and whirling the boy round and tossing off his hat, sherevealed to Hildegarde's astonished gaze the freckled, laughing face andmerry blue eyes of Zerubbabel Chirk. 

Bubble was highly delighted at the success of his ruse. He rubbed hishands and chuckled, then went down on all-fours and began picking upthe pea-pods. "Sorry I made you upset the basket, Pink!" he said. "Isay! how well you're looking! Isn't she, Miss Hilda? Oh! I didn'tsuppose you were as well as this. "

He gazed with delighted eyes at his sister's face, on which the freshpink and white told a pleasant tale of health and strength. She returnedhis look with one of such beaming love and joy that Hildegarde, in themidst of her own heartfelt pleasure, could not help feeling a momentarypang. "If my baby brother had only lived!" she thought. But the nextmoment she was shaking Bubble by both hands, and telling him how gladshe was to see him. 

"And now tell us!" cried both girls, pulling him down on the groundbetween them. "Tell us all about it! How did you get here? Where do youcome from? When did you leave New York? What have you been doing? Howis Dr. Flower?"

"Guess I've got under Niag'ry Falls, by mistake!" said Bubble, dryly. "Let me see, now!" He rumpled up his short tow-colored hair with hisfavorite gesture, and meditated. "I guess I'll begin at the beginning!"he said. "Well!" (it was observable that Bubble no longer said "Wa-al!"and that his speech had improved greatly during the year spent in NewYork, though he occasionally dropped back into his former broad drawl. )"Well! it's been hot in the city. I tell you, it's been hot. Why, MissHilda, I never knew what heat was before. "

"I know it must be dreadful, Bubble!" said Hildegarde. "I have neverbeen in town in August, but I can imagine what it must be. "

"I really don't know, Miss Hilda, whether you can, " returned Bubble, respectfully. "It isn't like any heat I ever felt at home. Can youimagine your brains sizzling in your head, like a kettle boiling?"

"Oh, don't, Bubble!" cried Rose. "Don't say such things!"

"Well, it's true!" said the boy. "That's exactly the way it felt. It waslike being in a furnace, --a white furnace in the day-time, and a blackone at night; that was all the difference. I had my head shaved, --it'sgrowed now, but I'm going to have it done again, soon as I getback, --and wore a flannel shirt and those linen pants you made, Pinkie. I tell you I was glad of 'em, if I did laugh at 'em at first--and so Igot on. I wrote you that Dr. Flower had taken me to do errands for himduring vacation?" The girls nodded. "Well, I stayed at his house, --it'sa jolly house!--and 't was as cool there as anywhere. I went to thehospital with him every day, and I'm going to be a surgeon, and he saysI can. "

Hildegarde smiled approval, and Rose patted the flaxen head, and said, "Yes, I am sure you can, dear boy. Do you remember how you set thechicken's leg last year?"

"I told the doctor about that, " said Bubble, "and he said I did itright. Wasn't I proud! I held accidents for him two or three times thissummer, " he added proudly. "It never made me faint at all, though itdoes most people at first. "

"Held accidents?" asked Hildegarde, innocently. "What do you mean, laddie?"

"People hurt in accidents!" replied the boy. "While he set the bones, you know. There were some very fine ones!" and he kindled withprofessional enthusiasm. "There was one man who had fallen from astaging sixty feet high, and was all--"

"Don't! don't!" cried both girls, in horror, putting their fingers intheir ears. 

"We don't want to hear about it, you dreadful boy!" said Hildegarde. "_We_ are not going to be surgeons, be good enough to remember. "

"Oh, it's all right!" said Bubble, laughing. "He got well, and is abouton crutches now. Then there was a case of trepanning. Oh, that _was_ sobeautiful! You _must_ let me tell you about that. You see, this man wasa sailor, and he fell from the top-gallantmast, and struck--" But hereRose's hand was laid resolutely over his mouth, and he was told that ifhe could not refrain from surgical anecdotes, he would be sent back toNew York forthwith. 

"All right!" said the embryo surgeon, with a sigh; "only they're aboutall I have to tell that is really interesting. Well, it grew hotter andhotter. Dr. Flower didn't seem to mind the heat much; but Jock andI--well, we did. "

"Oh, my dear little Jock!" cried Hildegarde, remorsefully. "To think ofmy never having asked for him. How is the dear doggie?"

"He's all right now, " replied Bubble, "But there was one hot spell lastmonth, that we thought would finish the pup. Hot? Well, I should--Imean, I should think it was! You had to put your boots down cellar everynight, or else they'd be warped so you couldn't put 'em on in themorning. "

"Bubble!" said Hildegarde, holding up a warning finger. But Bubble wouldnot be repressed again. 

"Oh, Miss Hilda, you don't know anything about it!" he said; "excuse me, but really you don't. The sidewalks were so hot, the bakers just puttheir dough out on them, and it was baked in a few minutes. All theFifth Avenue folks had fountain attachments put on to their carriages, and sprinkled themselves with iced lavender water and odycolone as theydrove along; and the bronze statue in Union Square melted and ran allover the lot. "

"Rose, what shall we do to this boy?" cried Hildegarde, as the youthfulMunchausen paused for breath. "And you aren't telling me a word about myprecious Jock, you little wretch!"

"One night, " Bubble resumed, --"I'm in earnest now, Miss Hilda, --onenight it seemed as if there was no air to breathe; as if we was justtaking red-hot dust into our lungs. Poor little Jock seemed very sick;he lay and moaned and moaned, like a baby, and kept looking from thedoctor to me, as if he was asking us to help him. I was pretty nigh beatout, too, and even the doctor seemed fagged; but we could stand itbetter than the poor little beast could. I sat and fanned him, but thatdidn't help him much, the air was so hot. Then the doctor sent me forsome cracked ice, and we put it on his head and neck, and _that_ tookhold! 'The dog's in a fever!' says the doctor. 'We must watch himto-night, and if he pulls through, I'll see to him in the morning, ' sayshe. Well, we spent that night taking turns, putting ice on that dog'shead, and fanning him, and giving him water. "

"My dear Bubble!" said Hildegarde, her eyes full of tears. "Dear goodboy! and kindest doctor in the world! How shall I thank you both?"

"We weren't going to let him die, " said Bubble, "after the way you savedhis life last summer, Miss Hilda. Well, he did pull through, and so didwe; but I was pretty shaky, and the morning came red-hot. The sun waslike copper when it rose, and there seemed to be a sort of haze ofheat, just pure heat, hanging over the city. And Dr. Flower says, 'You're going to git out o' this!' says he. "

"I don't believe he said anything of the kind!" interrupted Rose, whoregarded Dr. Flower as a combination of Bayard, Sidney, and theAdmirable Crichton. 

"Well, it came to the same thing!" retorted Bubble, unabashed. "Anyhow, we took the first train after breakfast for Glenfield. "

"Oh, oh, Bubble!" cried both girls, eagerly. "Not really?"

"Yes, really!" said Bubble. "I got to the Farm about ten o'clock, andwent up and knocked at the front door, thinking I'd give Mrs. Hartley asurprise, same as I did you just now; but nobody came, so I went in, andfound not a soul in the house. But I knowed--I _knew_ she couldn't befar off; for her knitting lay on the table, and the beans--it wasSaturday--were in the pot, simmering away. So I sat down in the farmer'sbig chair, and looked about me. Oh, I tell you, Miss Hilda, it seemedgood! There was the back door open, and the hens picking round the bigdoorstep, just the way they used, and the great willow tapping againstthe window, and a pile of Summer Sweetings on the shelf, all warm in thesunshine, you know, --only you weren't there, and I kept kind o' hopingyou would come in. Do you remember, one day I wanted one of themSweetings, and you wouldn't give me one till I'd told you about all thefamous apples I'd ever heard of?"

"No, you funny boy!" said Hildegarde, laughing. "I have forgotten aboutit. "

"Well, I hain't--haven't, I mean!" said the boy. "I couldn't think of asingle one, 'cept William Tell's apple, and Adam and Eve, of course, andthree that Lawyer Clinch's red cow choked herself with trying toswallow 'em all at once, being greedy, like the man that owned her. Soyou gave me the apple, gave me two or three; and while I was eating 'em, you told me about the Hesperides ones, and the apple of discord, andthat--that young woman who ran the race: what was her name?--somecapital of a Southern State! Milledgeville, was it?"

"Atlanta!" cried Hildegarde, bursting into a peal of laughter; and"Atlanta! you goosey!" exclaimed Rose, pretending to box the boy's ears. "And it wasn't named for Atalanta at all, was it, Hildegarde?"

"No!" said the latter, still laughing heartily. "Bubble, it isdelightful to hear your nonsense again. But go on, and tell us about thedear good friends. "

"I'm coming to them in a minute, " said Bubble; "but I must just tell youabout Jock first. You never saw a dog so pleased in all your life. Hewent sniffing and smelling about, and barking those little, short'Wuffs!' as he does when he is tickled about anything. Then he went tolook for his plate. But it wasn't there, of course; so he ran out to seethe hens, and pass the time o' day with them. They didn't mind him much;but all of a sudden a cat came out from the woodshed, --a strange cat, who didn't know Jock from a--from an elephant. Up went her back, and outwent her tail, and she growled and spit like a good one. Of course Jockcouldn't stand that, so he gave a 'ki-hi!' and after her. They made timeround that yard, now I tell you! The hens scuttled off, clucking as ifall the foxes in the county had broke loose; and for a minute or two itseemed as if there was two or three dogs and half-a-dozen cats. Well, sir!--I mean, ma'am! at last the cat made a bolt, and up the big mapleby the horse-trough. I thought she was safe then; but Jock, he gave aspring and caught hold of the eend of her tail, and down they both come, kerwumpus, on to the ground, and rolled eend over eend. " (It wasobservable that in the heat of narration Bubble dropped his schoolEnglish, and reverted to the vernacular of Glenfield. ) "But that wasmore than the old cat could stand, and she turned and went for _him_. Ha, ha! 't was 'ki, hi!' out of the other side of his mouth then, I tellye, Miss Hildy! You never see a dog so scairt. And jest then, as 'twould happen, Mis' Hartley came in from the barn with a basket of eggs, and you may--you may talk Greek to me, if that pup didn't bolt rightinto her, so hard that she sat down suddent on the doorstep, and theeggs rolled every which way. Then I caught him; and the cat, she lit outsomewhere, quicker 'n a wink, and Mis' Hartley sat up, and says she, 'Well, of all the world! Zerubbabel Chirk, you may just pick up themeggs, if you _did_ drop from the moon!"

CHAPTER XIV. 

TELEMACHUS GOES A-FISHING. 

At this point Bubble's narrative was interrupted by the appearance ofMartha, making demand for her peas. Bubble was duly presented to her;and she beamed on him through her spectacles, and was delighted to seehim, and quite sure he must be very hungry. 

"I never thought of that!" cried Hildegarde, remorsefully. "When did youhave breakfast, and have you had anything to eat since?"

Bubble had had breakfast at half-past six, and had had nothing since. The girls were horrified. 

"Come into the kitchen this minute!" said Martha, imperatively. So hedid; and the next minute he was looking upon cold beef and johnny-cakeand apple-pie, and a pile of doughnuts over which he could hardly seeMartha's anxious face as she asked if he thought that would stay himtill dinner. "For boys are boys!" she added, impressively, turning toHildegarde; "and girls they are not, nor won't be. "

When he had eaten all that even a hungry boy could possibly eat, Bubblewas carried off to be introduced to Miss Wealthy. She, too, wasdelighted to see him, and made him more than welcome; and when he spokeof staying a day or two in the neighborhood, and asked if he could get aroom nearer than the village, she was quite severe with him, forbade himto mention the subject again, and sent Martha to show him the littleroom in the ell, where she said he could be comfortable, and the longerhe stayed the better. It was the neatest, cosiest little room, just bigenough for a boy, the girls said with delight, when they went to inspectit. The walls were painted bright blue, which had rather a peculiareffect; but Martha explained that Jeremiah had half a pot of blue paintleft after painting the wheelbarrow and the pails, and thought he mightas well use it up. Apparently the half pot gave out before Jeremiah cameto the chairs, for one of them was yellow, while the other had red legsand a white seat and back. But the whole effect was very cheerful andpleasant, and Bubble was enchanted. 

The girls left him to wash his face and hands, and brush the roadsidedust from his clothes. As he was plunging his face into the cool, sparkling water in the blue china basin, he heard a small but decidedvoice addressing him; and looking up, became aware of a person in kiltsstanding in the doorway and surveying him with manifest disapprobation. 

"Hello, young un!" said Bubble, cheerily. "How goes the world with you?"

"Vat basin ain't your basin!" responded the person in kilts, with greatseverity. 

Bubble looked from him to the basin, and back again, with amusedperplexity. "Oh! it isn't, eh?" he said. "Well, that's a pity, isn'tit?"

"Vis room ain't your room!" continued the new-comer, with increasedsternness; "vis bed ain't your bed! I's ve boy of vis house. Go out ofve back door! _Go_ 'WAY!"

At the last word Benny stamped his foot, and raised his voice to a roarwhich fairly startled his hearer. Bubble regarded him steadfastly for amoment, and then sat down on the bed and began feeling in his pockets. "I found something so funny to-day!" he said. "I was walking along theroad--"

"Go out of ve back door!" repeated Benny, in an appalling shout. 

"And I came, " continued Bubble, in easy, conversational tones, regardless of the vindictive glare of the blue eyes fixed upon him, --"Icame to a great bed of blue clay. Not a bed like this, you know, "--forBenny's glare was now intensified by the expression of scorn andincredulity, --"but just a lot of it in the road and up the side of theditch. So I sat down on the bank to rest a little, and I made somemarbles. See!" he drew from his pocket some very respectable marbles, and dropped them on the quilt, where they rolled about in an enticingmanner. Benny was opening his mouth for another roar; but at sight ofthe marbles he shut it again, and put his hand in his kilt pocketinstinctively. But there were no marbles in his pocket. 

"Then, " Bubble went on, taking apparently no notice of him, "I thought Iwould make some other things, because I didn't know but I might meetsome boy who liked things. " Benny edged a little nearer the bed, butspoke no word. "So I made a pear, "--he took the pear out and laid it onthe bed, --"and a hen, "--the hen lay beside the pear, --"and a bee-hive, and a mouse; only the mouse's tail broke off. " He laid the delightfulthings all side by side on the bed, and arranged the marbles round themin a circle. "And look here!" he added, looking up suddenly, as if abright idea had struck him; "if you'll let me stay here a bit, I'll giveyou all these, and teach you to play ring-taw too! Come now!" His brightsmile, combined with the treasures on the bed, was irresistible. Benny'smouth quivered; then the corners went up, up, and the next moment he wassitting on the bed, chuckling over the hen and the marbles, and the twohad known each other for years. 

"But look here!" said the person in kilts, breaking off suddenly in ananimated description of the brown crockery cow, "you must carry me abouton your back!"

"Why, of course!" responded Bubble. "What do you suppose I come herefor?"

"And go on all-fours when I want you to!" persisted the small tyrant. "'Cause Jeremiah has a bone in his leg, and them girls"--oh, blackingratitude of childhood!--"won't. I don't need you for a pillow, 'causeI has my sweet old fat kyat for a pillow. "

"Naturally!" said Bubble. "But if you should want a bolster any time, just let me know. "

"Because I's ve boy of ve house, you see!" said Benny, in a tone ofrelief. 

"You are that!" responded Bubble, with great heartiness. 

By general consent, the second half of Zerubbabel's narrative wasreserved for the evening, when Miss Wealthy could hear and enjoy it. Hildegarde and Rose, of course, found out all about their kind friendsat the Farm; and the former looked very grave when she heard that Mr. And Mrs. Hartley were expecting Rose without fail early in September, and were counting the days till her return. But she resolutely shook offall selfish thoughts, and entered heartily into the pleasure of doingthe honors of the place for the new-comer. 

Bubble was delighted with everything. It was the prettiest place he hadever seen. There never was such a garden; there never were suchapple-trees, "except the Red Russet tree at the Farm!" he said. "_That_tree is hard to beat. 'Member it, Miss Hilda, --great big tree, down bythe barn?"

"Indeed I do!" said Hilda. "Those are the best apples in the world, Ithink; and so beautiful, --all golden brown, with the bright scarletpatch on one cheek. Dear apples! I wish I might have some this fall. "

Bubble smiled, knowing that Farmer Hartley was counting upon sending hisbest barrel of Russets to his favorite "Huldy;" but preserved a discreetsilence, and they went on down to the boat-house. 

When evening came, the group round the parlor-table was a very pleasantone to see. Miss Wealthy's chair was drawn up near the light, and shehad her best cap on, and her evening knitting, which was something assoft and white and light as the steam of the tea-kettle. Near her satHildegarde, wearing a gown of soft white woollen stuff, which set offher clear, fresh beauty well. She was dressing a doll, which she meantto slip into the next box of flowers that went to the hospital, for alittle girl who was just getting well enough to want "something tocuddle;" and her lap was full of rainbow fragments of silk and velvet, the result of Cousin Wealthy's search in one of her numerous piece-bags. On the other side of the table sat Rose, looking very like hername-flower in her pale-pink dress; while Bubble, on a stool beside her, rested his arm on his sister's knee, and looked the very embodiment ofcontent. A tiny fire was crackling on the hearth, even though it wasstill August; for Miss Wealthy thought the evening mist from the riverwas dangerous, and dried her air as carefully as she did her linen. Dr. Johnson was curled on his hassock beside the fire; Benny was safe inbed. 

"And now, Bubble, " said Hildegarde, with a little sigh of satisfactionas she looked around and thought how cosey and pleasant it all was, "nowyou shall tell us about your fishing excursion. "

"Well, " said Bubble, nothing loath, "it was this way, you see. When Icame back from the Farm, leaving Jock there, I found the doctor in hisstudy, and the whole room full of rods and lines and reels, and allkinds of truck; and he was playing with the queerest things I ever sawin my life, --bits of feather and wool, and I don't know what not, withhooks in them. When he called me to come and look at his flies I was allup a tree, and didn't know what he was talking about; but he told meabout 'em, and showed me, and then says he, 'I'm going a-fishing, Bubble, and I'm going to take you, if you want to go. ' Well, I didn'tleave much doubt in his mind about _that_. Fishing! Well, _you_ know, Pinkie, there's nothing like it, after all. So we started next morning, Doctor and I, and three other fel--I mean gentlemen. Two of 'em wasdoctors, and the third was a funny little man, not much bigger'n me. Iwish 't you could ha' seen us start! Truck? Well, I should--say so!Rods, and baskets, and bait-boxes, and rugs, and pillows, and cannedthings, and camp-stools, and tents, and a cooking-stove, and a barrel ofbeer, and--"

"How much of this are you making up, young man?" inquired Hildegarde, calmly; while Miss Wealthy paused in her knitting, and looked over herspectacles at Bubble in mild amazement. 

"Not one word, Miss Hilda!" replied the boy, earnestly. "Sure as you'resitting there, we did start with all them--_those_ things. Doctor, ofcourse, knew 't was all nonsense, and he kept telling the others so; butthey was bound to have 'em; and the little man, he wouldn't be separatedfrom that beer-barrel, not for gold. However, it all turned out right. We were bound for Tapsco stream, you see; and when we came to the endof the railroad, we hired a sledge and a yoke of oxen, and started forthe woods. Seven miles the folks there told us it was, but it took ustwo whole days to do it; and by the time we got to the stream, the citychaps, all 'cept Dr. Flower (and he really ain't half a city chap!) werepretty well tired out, I can tell you. Breaking through the bushes, stumbling over stumps and stones, and h'isting a loaded sledge over theworst places, wasn't exactly what they had expected; for none of 'em butthe doctor had been in the woods before. Well, we got to the stream; andthere was the man who was going to be our guide and cook, and all that. He had two canoes, --a big one and a little one; he was going to paddleone, and one of us the other. Well, the little man--his name wasPackard--said he'd paddle the small canoe, and take the stove and thebeer-barrel, ''cause they'll need careful handling, ' says he. The oldguide looked at him, when he said that, pretty sharp, but he didn't saynothing; and the rest of us got into the other canoe with the rest ofthe truck, after we'd put in his load. We started ahead, and Mr. Packardcame after, paddling as proud as could be, with his barrel in the bow, and he and the stove in the stern. I wish't you could ha' seen him, MissHilda! I tell you he was a sight, with his chin up in the air, and hismouth open. Presently we heard him say, 'This position becomes irksome;I think I will change'--but that was all he had time to say; for beforethe guide could holler to him, he had moved, and over he went, boat andbarrel and stove and all. Ha! ha! ha! Oh, _my!_ if that wasn't the mostcomical sight--"

"Oh, but, Bubble, " cried Hildegarde, hastily, as a quick glance showedher that Miss Wealthy had turned pale, dropped her knitting, and puther hand up to the pansy brooch, "he wasn't hurt, was he? Poor littleman!"

"Hurt? not a mite!" responded Bubble. "He come up next minute, puffingand blowing like a two-ton grampus, and struck out for our canoe. Wewere all laughing so we could hardly stir to help him in; but the doctorhauled him over the side, and then we paddled over and righted hiscanoe. He was in a great state of mind! 'You ought to be indicted, ' hesays to the guide, 'for having such a canoe as that. It's infamous! it'satrocious! I--I--I--how dare you, sir, give me such a rickety eggshelland call it a boat?' Old Marks, the guide, looked at him again, anddidn't say anything for a while, but just kept on paddling. At last hesays, very slow, as he always speaks, 'I--guess--it's all right, Squire. This is a prohibition State, you know; and that's a prohibition boat, that's all. ' Well, there was some talk about fishing the things up; butthere was no way of doing it, and Dr. Flower said, anyhow, he didn'tcome to fish for barrels nor yet for cook-stoves; so we went on, andthere they be--_are_ yet, I suppose. Bimeby we came to Marks's camp, where we were to stay. It was a bark lean-to, big enough for us all, with a nice fire burning, and all comfortable. Doctor and I liked itfirst-rate; but the city chaps, --they said they must have their tentsup, so we spent a good part of a day getting the things up. "

"And were they more comfortable?" asked Rose. "I suppose the gentlemenwere not used to roughing it. "

"Humph!" responded Bubble, with sovereign contempt. "Mr. Packard set hisafire, trying to build what he called a scientific fire, and came nearburning himself up, and the rest of us, let alone the whole woods. Andthe second night it came on to rain, --my! how it did rain! and thesecond tent was wet through, and they were all mighty glad to come intothe lean-to!"

"This seems to have been a severe experience, my lad, " said MissWealthy, with gentle sympathy. "I trust that none of the party sufferedin health from all this exposure. "

"Oh, no, ma'am!" Bubble hastened to assure her. "It was splendid fun!splendid! I never had such a good time. I could fish for a year withoutstopping, I do believe. "

Miss Wealthy's sympathetic look changed to one of mild disapproval, forshe did not like what she called "violent sentiments. " "So exaggerated astatement, my boy, " she said gently, "is doubtless not meant to be takenliterally. Fishing, or angling, to use a more elegant word, seems to bea sport which gives great pleasure to those who pursue it. Dr. Johnson, it is true, spoke slightingly of it, and described a fishing-rod as astick with a hook at one end, and--ahem! he was probably in jest, mydears--a fool at the other. But Izaak Walton was a meek and devoutperson; and my dear father was fond of angling, and--and--others I haveknown. Go on, my lad, with your lively description. "

Poor Bubble was so abashed by this little dissertation that hisliveliness seemed to have deserted him entirely for the moment. He hunghis head, and looked so piteously at Hildegarde that she was obliged totake refuge in a fit of coughing, which made Miss Wealthy exclaimanxiously that she feared she had taken cold. 

"Go on, Bubble!" said Hildegarde, as soon as she had recovered herself, nodding imperatively to him. "How many fish did you catch?"

"Oh, a great many!" replied the boy, rather soberly. "Dr. Flower is afirst-rate fisherman, and he caught a lot every day; and the other twodoctors caught some. But Mr. Packard, "--here his eyes began to twinkleagain, and his voice took on its usual cheerful ring, --"poor Mr. Packard, he did have hard luck. The first time he threw a fly it caughtin a tree, and got all tangled up, so 't he was an hour and more gettinghis line free. Then he thought 't would be better on the other side ofthe stream; so he started to cross over, and stepped into a deep hole, and down he sat with a splash, and one of his rubber boots came off, andhe dropped his rod. Of all the unlucky people I ever saw! I tell you, 'twas enough to make a frog laugh to see him fish! Then, of course, he'dgot the water all riled--"

"All--I beg your pardon?--riled?" asked Miss Wealthy, innocently. 

"All muddy!" said Bubble, hastily; "so he couldn't fish there no morefor one while. And just then I happened to come along with a string oftrout--ten of 'em, and perfect beauties!--that I'd caught with a stringand a crooked pin; and that seemed to finish Mr. Packard entirely. Nextday he had rheumatism in his joints, and stayed in camp all day, watching Marks making snow-shoes. The day after that he tried again, andfished all the morning, and caught one yellow perch and an eel. The eeldanced right up in his face, --it did, sure as I'm alive, Pink!--andscairt him so, I'm blessed if he didn't sit down again--ho! ho! ho!--ona point o' rock, and slid off into the water, and lost his spectacles. Oh, dear! it don't seem as if it could be true; but it is, every word. The next day he went home. _He_'ll never go a-fishing again. "

"Poor man! I should think not!" said Rose, compassionately. "But is Dr. Flower--are all the others still there?"

"Gone home!" said Bubble. "We came out of the woods three days ago, andtook the train yesterday. I never thought of such a thing as stopping;supposed I must go right back to work. But when the brakeman sung out, 'Next station Bywood!' Doctor just says quietly, 'Get your bag ready, Bubble! You're going to get out at this station. ' And when I looked athim, all struck of a heap, as you may say, he says, 'Shut your mouth!you look really better with it shut. There is a patient of mine stayingat this place, Miss Chirk by name. I want you to look her up, makeinquiries into her case, and if you can get lodgings in theneighborhood, stay till she is ready to be escorted back to New York. Itis all arranged, and I have a boy engaged to take your place for twoweeks. Now, then! do not leave umbrellas or packages in the train!Good-by!' And there we were at the station; and he just shook hands, anddropped me off on the platform, and off they went again. Isn't he a goodman? I tell you, if they was all like him, there wouldn't be no troublein the world for anybody. " And Rose thought so too!

CHAPTER XV. 

THE GREAT SCHEME. 

In the latter days of August came a hot wave. It started, we will say, from the Gulf, which was heated sevenfold on purpose, and which simmeredand hissed like a gigantic caldron. It came rolling up over the country, scorching all it touched, spreading its fiery billows east and west. NewYork wilted and fell prostrate. Boston wiped the sweat from herintellectual brow, and panted in all the modern languages. Even Mainewas not safe among her rocks and pine-trees; and a wavelet of purecaloric swept over quiet Bywood, and made its inhabitants veryuncomfortable. Miss Wealthy could not remember any such heat. There hadbeen a very hot season in 1853, --she remembered it because her fatherhad given up frills to his shirts, as no amount of starch would keepthem from hanging limp an hour after they were put on; but she reallydid not think it was so severe as this. She was obliged to put away herknitting, it made her hands so uncomfortable; and took to crocheting atidy with linen thread, as the coolest work she could think of. Hildegarde and Rose put on the thin muslins which had lain all summer intheir clothespress drawers, and did their best to keep Benny cool andquiet; read Dr. Kane's "Arctic Voyages, " and discussed the possibilityof Miss Wealthy's allowing them to shave Dr. Johnson. 

Bubble spent much of his time in cracking ice and making lemonade, whenhe was not on or in the river. 

As for Martha, she devoted herself to the concoction of cold dishes, andfed the whole family on jellied tongue, lobster-salad, ice-cream, andCharlotte Russe, till they rose up and blessed her. 

When Flower-Day came, the girls braved the heat, and went to Fairtownwith the flowers; Miss Wealthy reluctantly allowing them to go, becauseshe was anxious, as they were, to know how the little patients bore theheat. They brought back a sad report. The sick children were sufferingmuch; the hospital was like a furnace, in spite of all that could bedone to keep it cool. Mrs. Murray sighed for a "country week" for themall, but knew no way of attaining the desired object, as most of thepeople interested in the hospital were out of town. 

"Oh, if we could only find a place!" cried Hildegarde, after she hadtold about the little pallid faces and the fever-heat in town. "Ifthere were only some empty house, "--she did not dare to look at MissWealthy as she said this, but kept her eyes on the river (they were allsitting on the piazza, waiting for the afternoon breeze, which seldomfailed them), --"some quiet place, like Islip, where the poor littlesouls could come, for a week or two, till this dreadful heat is past. "Then she told the story of Islip, with its lovely Seaside Home, whereall summer long the poor children come and go, nursed and tended torefreshment by the black-clad Sisters. Miss Wealthy made no sign, butsat with clasped hands, her work lying idle in her lap. Rose was verypale, and trembled with a sense of coming trouble; but Hildegarde'scheeks were flushed, and her eyes shone with excitement. 

There were a few moments of absolute silence, broken only by the hotshrilling of a locust in a tree hard by; then Zerubbabel Chirk, calmlyunconscious of any thrill in the air, any tension of the nerves, anycrisis impending, paused in his whittling, and instead of carving awhistle for Benny, cut the Gordian knot. 

"Why, there is a house, close by here, " he said; "not more 'n half amile off. I was going to ask you girls about it. A pretty red house, allspick and span, and not a soul in it, far as I could see. Why isn't itexactly the place you want?" He looked from one to the other withbright, inquiring eyes; but no one answered. "I'm sure it is!" hecontinued, with increasing animation. "There's a lawn where the childrencould play, and a nice clear brook for 'em to paddle and sail boats in, and gravel for 'em to dig in, --why, it was _made_ for children!" criedthe boy. "And as for the man that owns it, why, if he doesn't want tostay there himself, why shouldn't he let some one else have it?--unlesshe's an old hunks; and even if he is--" He stopped short, for Rose hadseized his arm with a terrified grasp, and Hildegarde's clear eyesflashed a silent warning. 

Miss Wealthy tottered to her feet, and the others rose instinctivelyalso. She stood for a moment, her hand at her throat, her eyes fixed onBubble, trembling as if he had struck her a heavy blow; then, as thefrightened girls made a motion to advance, she waved them back with agesture full of dignity, and turned and entered the house, making a lowmoan as she went. 

"Send Martha to her, _quick_!" said Hildegarde, in an imperativewhisper. "Fly, Bubble! the back door!"

Bubble flew, as if he had been shot from a gun, and returned, wide-eyedand open-mouthed, to find his sister in tears, and his adored Miss Hildapacing up and down the piazza with hasty and agitated steps. 

"What is it?" he cried in dismay. "What did I do? What is the matterwith everybody? Why, I never--"

Hildegarde quieted him with a gesture, and then told him, briefly, thestory of the house in the wood. Poor Bubble was quite overcome. Hepunched his head severely, and declared that he was the most stupididiot that ever lived. 

"I'd better go away!" he cried. "I can't see the old lady again. As kindas she's been to me, and then for me to call her a--I guess I'll begoing, Miss Hilda; I'm no good here, and only doing harm. "

"Be quiet, Bubble!" said Hildegarde, smiling in the midst of herdistress. "You shall do nothing of the kind. And, Rose, you are not toshed another tear. Who knows? This may be the very best thing that couldhave happened. Of course I wouldn't have had you say it, Bubble, justin that way; but now that it _is_ said, I--I think I am glad of it. Ishould not wonder--I really do hope that it may have been just the wordthat was wanted. "

And so it proved. For an hour after, as the three still sat on thepiazza, --two of them utterly disconsolate, the third trying to cheerthem with the hope that she was feeling more and more strongly, --Marthaappeared. There were traces of tears in her friendly gray eyes, but shelooked kindly at the forlorn trio. 

"Miss Bond is not feeling very well!" she said. "She is lying down, andthinks she will not come downstairs this evening. Here is a note foryou, Miss Hilda, and a letter for the post. "

Hildegarde tore open the little folded note, and read, in Miss Wealthy'spretty, regular hand, these words:--

 MY DEAR HILDA, --Please tell the boy that I do not mean to be an old hunks, and ask him to post this letter. We will make our arrangements to-morrow, as I am rather tired now. 

 Your affectionate cousin, WEALTHY BOND. 

The letter was addressed to Mrs. Murray at the Children's Hospital; andat sight of it Hildegarde threw her arms round Martha's neck, and gaveher a good hug. Her private desire was to cry; but tears were a luxuryshe rarely indulged in, so she laughed instead. 

"Is it all right, Martha, " she asked, --"really and truly right? Becauseif it is, I am the happiest girl in the world. "

"It is all right, indeed, Miss Hilda!" replied Martha, heartily; "andthe best thing that could have happened, to my mind. Dear gracious! sooften as I've wished for something to break up that place, so to speak, and make a living house 'stead of a dead one! And it never could ha'been done, in my thinking, any other way than this. So it's a good day'swork you've done, and thankful she'll be to you for it when the shock ofit is over. " Then, seeing that the young people were still a little"trembly, " as she called it, this best of Marthas added cheerfully:"It's like to be a very warm evening, I'm thinking. And as Miss Bondisn't coming down, wouldn't it be pleasant for you to go out in theboat, perhaps, Miss Hilda, and take your tea with you? There's a nicelittle mould of pressed chicken, do you see, and some lemon jelly on theice; and I could make you up a nice basket, and 't would be rightpleasant now, wouldn't it, young ladies?"

Whereupon Martha was called a saint and an angel and a brick, all inthree breaths; and she went off, well pleased, to pack the basket, leaving great joy behind her. 

Late that evening, when Hildegarde was going to bed, she saw the door ofMiss Wealthy's room ajar, and heard her name called softly. She went in, and found the dear old lady sitting in her great white dimity armchair. 

"Come here, my dear, " said Miss Wealthy, gently. "I have something toshow you, which I think you will like to see. "

She had a miniature in her hand, --the portrait of a young and handsomeman, with flashing dark eyes, and a noble, thoughtful face. 

"It is my Victor!" said the old lady, tenderly. "I am an old woman, buthe is always my true love, young and beautiful. Look at it, my child! Itis the face of a good and true man. "

"You do not mind my knowing?" Hildegarde asked, kissing the soft, wrinkled hand. 

"I am very glad of it, " replied Miss Wealthy, --"very glad! And in--in alittle while--when I have had time to realize it--I shall no doubt beglad of this--this projected change. You see"--she paused, and seemed toseek for a word, --"you see, dear, it has always been Victor's house tome. I never--I should not have thought of making use of it, like anotherhouse. It is doubtless--much better. In fact, I am sure of it. It hascome to me very strongly that Victor would like it, that it would pleasehim extremely. And now I blame myself for never having thought of such athing before. So, my dear, " she added, bending forward to kissHildegarde's forehead, "besides the blessings of the sick children, youwill win one from me, and--who knows?--perhaps one from a voice wecannot hear. "

The girl was too much moved to speak, and they were silent for a while. 

"And now, " Miss Wealthy said very cheerfully, "it is bedtime for you, and for me too. But before you go, I want to give you a little trinketthat I had when I was just your age. My grandmother gave it to me; andthough I am not exactly your grandmother, I am the next thing to it. Open that little cupboard, if you please, and bring me a small redmorocco box which you will find on the second shelf, in the right-handcorner. There is a brown pill-box next to it; do you find it, my love?"

Hildegarde brought the box, and on being told to open it, found abracelet of black velvet, on which was sewed a garland of miniatureflowers, white roses and forget-me-nots, wrought in exquisite enamel. 

"I thought of it, " said the old lady, as Hildegarde bent over the prettytrinket in wondering delight, "when I saw your forget-me-not room lastwinter. The clasp, you see, is a turquoise; I believe, rather a fineone. My grandfather brought it from Constantinople. A pretty thing; itwill look well on your arm. The Bonds all have good arms, which is aprivilege. Good-night, dear child! Sleep well, and be ready to elaborateyour great scheme to-morrow. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE WIDOW BRETT. 

So it came to pass that at the breakfast-table next morning no one wasso bright and gay as Miss Wealthy. She was full of the new plan, andmade one suggestion after another. 

"The first thing, " she said, "is to find a good housekeeper. There isnothing more important, especially where children are concerned. Now, Ihave thought of precisely the right person, --pre-cisely!" she added, sipping her tea with an air of great content. "Martha, your cousinCynthia Brett is the very woman for the place. "

"Truly, Mam, I think she is, " said Martha, putting down the butteredtoast on the exact centre of the little round mat where it belonged;"and I think she would do it too!"

"A widow, " Miss Wealthy explained, turning to Hildegarde, her kind eyesbeaming with interest, "fond of children, neat as _wax_, capable, a goodcook, and makes butter equal to Martha's. My dears, Cynthia Brett wasmade for this emergency. Zerubbabel, my lad, are you desirous ofattracting attention? We will gladly listen to any suggestion you haveto make. "

The unfortunate Bubble, who had been drumming on the table with hisspoon, blushed furiously, muttered an incoherent apology, and wished hewere small enough to dive into his bowl of porridge. 

"And this brings me to another plan, " continued the dear old lady. "Bixby, where Cynthia Brett lives, is an extremely pretty littlevillage, and I should like you all to see it. What do you say to drivingover there, spending the night at Mrs. Brett's, and coming back the nextday, after making the arrangements with her? Zerubbabel could borrow Mr. Rawson's pony, I am sure, and be your escort. Do you like the plan, Hilda, my dear?"

"Oh, Cousin Wealthy, " cried Hildegarde, "it is too delightful! We shouldenjoy it above all things. But--no!" she added, "what would you dowithout the Doctor? You would lose your drive. Is there no other way ofsending word to Mrs. Brett?"

But Miss Wealthy would not hear of any other way. It was a pity if shecould not stay at home one day, she said. So when Mr. Brisket, the longbutcher from Bixby, came that morning, and towering in the doorway, sixfeet and a half of blue jean, asked if they wanted "a-any ni-icemut-ton toda-a-ay, " he was intrusted with a note from Martha to hercousin, telling of the projected expedition, and warning her to expectthe young ladies the next day but one. 

The day came, --a day of absolute beauty, and though still very hot, notunbearable. Dr. Abernethy had had an excellent breakfast, with twice hisusual quantity of oats, so that he actually frisked when he was broughtround to the door. The whole family assembled to see the little partystart. Miss Wealthy stood on the piazza, looking like an ancient Dresdenshepherdess in her pink and white and silver beauty, and gave cautionafter caution: they must spare the horse up hill, and _never_ trot downhill; "and let the good beast drink, dearie, when you come to thehalf-way trough, --not too much, but enough moderately to quench histhirst;" etc. 

Martha beamed through her silver-rimmed spectacles, and hoped she'dgiven them enough lunch; while Benny, with his hand resting on the headof his "ole fat kyat, " surveyed them with rather a serious air. 

The girls had been troubled about Benny. They did not want to leave thelittle fellow, who had announced his firm intention of going with them;yet it was out of the question to take him. The evening before, however, Bubble had had a long talk with "ve boy of ve house;" and great was therelief of the ladies when that youthful potentate announced at breakfasthis determination to stay at home and "take care of ve womenfolks, 'cause Jim-Maria [the name by which he persistently called themelancholy prophet], he's gettin' old, an' somebody has to see to fings;and I's ve boy of ve house, so _I_ ought to see to vem. "

When the final moment came, however, it seemed very dreadful to see hisown Sing-girl drive away, and Posy, and the other boy too; and Benny'slip began to quiver, and his eyes to grow large and round, to make roomfor the tears. At this very moment, however, Jim-Maria, who haddisappeared after bringing the horse to the door, came round the corner, bringing the most wonderful hobby-horse that ever was seen. It waspainted bright yellow, for that was the color Jeremiah was painting thebarn. Its eyes were large and black, which gave it a dashing andspirited appearance; and at sight of it the Boy of the House forgoteverything else in heaven and earth. "Mine horse!" he cried, rushingupon it with outstretched arms, --"all mine, for to wide on! Jim-Maria, get out ov ve way! Goo-by, Sing-girl! goo-by, ev'ryboggy! Benny's goin'to ve Norf Pole!" and he cantered away, triumphant. 

Then Hildegarde and Rose, seeing that all was well, made their adieuswith a light heart, and Bubble waved his hat, and Miss Wealthy kissedher hand, and Martha shook her blue checked apron violently up and down, and off they went. 

 * * * * *

The little village of Bixby was in its usual condition of somnolentcheerfulness, that same afternoon. The mail had come in, being broughtin Abner Colt's green wagon from the railway-station two miles away. Theappearance of the green wagon, with its solitary brown bag, notgenerally too well filled, and its bundle of newspapers, was the signalfor all the village-loungers to gather about the door of thepost-office. The busy men would come later, when the mail was sorted;but this was the supreme hour of the loungers. They did not often getletters themselves, but it was very important that they should see who_did_ get letters; and most of them had a newspaper to look for. Thenthe joy of leaning against the door-posts, and waiting to see ifanything would happen! As a rule, nothing did happen, but there was noknowing what joyful day might bring a new sensation. Sometimes there wasa dog-fight. Once--thrilling recollection!--Ozias Brisket's horse hadrun away ("Think 't 's likely a bumble-bee must ha' stung him; couldn'tnothin' else ha' stirred him out of a walk, haw! haw!") and hadscattered the joints of meat all about the street. 

To-day there seemed little chance of any awakening event beyond thearrival of the green cart. It was very warm; the patient post-supporterswere nearly asleep. Their yellow dogs slumbered at their feet; theafternoon sun filled the little street with vivid golden light. 

Suddenly the sound of wheels was heard, --of unfamiliar wheels. Thepost-supporters knew the creak or rattle or jingle of every "team" inBixby. There was a general stir, a looking up the street, in thedirection whence the sound came; and then a gaping of mouths, an openingof eyes, a craning of long necks. 

A phaeton, drawn by a comfortable-looking gray horse, was coming slowlydown the street. It approached; it stopped at the post-office door. Init sat two young girls: one, tall, erect, with flashing gray eyes andbrilliant color, held the reins, and drew the horse up with the air of apractised whip; the other leaned back among the cushions, with a veryhappy, contented look, though she seemed rather tired. Both girls weredressed alike in simple gowns of blue gingham; but the simplicity was ofa kind unknown to Bixby, and the general effect was very marvellous. Thespectators had not yet shut their mouths, when a clattering of hoofswas heard, and a boy on a black pony came dashing along the street, anddrew up beside the phaeton. 

"No, it wasn't that house, " he said, addressing the two girls. "Atleast, there was no one there. Say, " he added, turning to the nearestlounger, a sandy person of uncertain age and appearance, "can you tellus where Mrs. Brett lives?"

"The Widder Brett?" returned the sandy person, cautiously. "Do ye meanthe Widder Brett?"

"Yes, I suppose so, " answered the boy. "Is there any other Mrs. Brett?"

"No, there ain't!" was the succinct reply. 

"Well, where _does_ she live?" cried the boy, impatiently. 

"The Widder Brett lives down yender!" said the sandy person, noddingdown the street. "Ye can't see the house from here, but go clear on tothe eend, and ye'll see it to yer right, --a yaller house, with greenblinds, an' a yard in front. You 'kin to the Widder Brett?"

"No, " said the tall young lady, speaking for the first time; "we are norelations. Thank you very much! Good-morning!" and with a word to theboy, she gathered up the reins, and drove slowly down the little street. 

The post-supporters watched them till the last wheel of the phaetondisappeared round the turn; then they turned eagerly to one another. 

"Who be they? What d'ye s'pose they want o' the Widder Brett?" was theeager cry. "Says they ain't no blood relation o' Mis' Brett's. " "Some o'Brett's folks, likely!" "I allus heerd his folks was well off. "

Meanwhile the phaeton was making its way along slowly, as I said, forRose was tired after the long drive. 

"But not too tired!" she averred, in answer to Hildegarde's anxiousinquiry. "Oh, no, dear! not a bit too tired, only just enough to makerest most delightful. What a funny little street!--something like thestreet in Glenfield, isn't it? Look! that might be Miss Bean's shop, before you took hold of it. "

"Oh, worse, much worse!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. "These bonnets arepositively mildewed. Rose, I see the mould on that bunch of berries. "

"Mould!" cried Rose, in mock indignation. "It is bloom, Hilda, --a finepurple bloom! City people don't know the difference, perhaps. "

"See!" said Hildegarde; "this must be 'the Widder Brett's' house. What apretty little place, Rose! I am sure we shall like the good womanherself. Take the reins, dear, while I go and make sure. No, Bubble, Iwill go myself, thank you. "

She sprang lightly out, and after patting Dr. Abernethy's head andbidding him stand still like the best of dears, she opened the whitegate, which stuck a little, as if it were not opened every day. A tidylittle wooden walk, with a border of pinks on either side, led up to thegreen door, in front of which was one broad stone doorstep. Beyond thepinks was a bed of pansies on the one hand; on the other, twoapple-trees and a pleasant little green space; while under the cottagewindows were tiger-lilies and tall white phlox and geraniums, and agreat bush of southernwood; altogether, it was a front yard such as MissJewett would like. 

Hildegarde lifted the bright brass knocker, --she was so glad it was aknocker, and not an odious gong bell; she _could_ not have liked ahouse with a gong bell, --and rapped gently. The pause which followed wasnot strictly necessary, for the Widow Brett had been reconnoitring everymovement of the new-comers through a crack in the window-blind, and wasnow standing in the little entry, not two feet from the door. The goodwoman counted twenty, which she thought would occupy just about the timenecessary to come from the kitchen, and then opened the door, with aproper expression of polite surprise on her face. 

"Good-day!" she said, with a rising inflection. 

"How do you do?" replied Hildegarde, with a falling one. "Are you Mrs. Brett, and are you expecting us?"

"My name is Brett, " replied the tall, spare woman in the brown stuffgown; "but I wasn't expectin' any one, as I know of. Pleased to see ye, though! Step in, won't ye?"

"Oh!" cried Hildegarde, looking distressed. "Didn't you--haven't you hada letter from Martha? She promised to write, and said she was sure youwould take us in for the night. I don't understand--"

"There!" cried Mrs. Brett. "Step right in now, do! and I'll tell you. This way, if _you_ please!" and much flurried, she led the way into thebest room, and drew up the hair-cloth rocking-chair, in which ourheroine entombed herself. "I _do_ declare, " the widow went on, "I oughtto be shook! There _was_ a letter come last night; and my spectacles wasbroken, my dear, and I can't read Martha's small handwriting without'em. I thought 't was just one of her letters, you know, telling howthey was getting on, and I'd wait till one of the neighbors came in toread it to me. Well, there! and all the time she was telling mesomething, was she? and who might you be, dear, that was thinking ofstaying here?"

"I am Hilda Grahame!" said the girl, suppressing an inclination to cry, as the thought of Rose's tired face came over her. "If you will find theletter, Mrs. Brett, I will read it to you at once. It was to tell youthat I was coming, with my friend, who is in the carriage now, and heryoung brother; and Martha thought there was no doubt about your takingus in. Perhaps there is some other house--"

"No, there isn't, " said the Widow Brett, quickly and kindly, --"notanother one. The idea! Of course I'll take you in, child, and gladenough of the chance. And you Miss Hildy Grahame, too, that Marthy hastold me so much about! Why, I'm right glad to see ye, right glad!" Shetook Hildegarde's hand, and moved it up and down as if it were apump-handle, her homely face shining with a cordiality which wasevidently genuine. "Only, "--and here her face clouded again, --"only ifI'd ha' known, I should have had everything ready, and have done somecleaning, and cooked up a few things. You'll have to take me just as Iam, I expect! However--"

"Oh, we _like_ things just as they are!" cried Hildegarde, in delight. "You must not make any difference at all for us, Mrs. Brett! We shallnot like it if you do. May I bring my friend in now?"

"Well, I should say so!" cried the good woman. "She's out in thecarriage, you say? I'll go right out and fetch her in. "

Rose was warmly welcomed, and brought into the house; while Hildafastened Dr. Abernethy to the gate-post, and got the shawls andhand-bags out from under the seat. 

"I expect you'd like to go right upstairs and lay off your things!" wasMrs. Brett's next remark. "I declare! I do wish 't I'd known! I swep'the spare chamber yesterday, but I hadn't any _i_dea of its being used. Well, there! you'll have to take me as I am. " She bustled upstairsbefore the girls, talking all the way. "I try to keep the house clean, but I don't often have comp'ny, and the dust doos gather so, this dryweather, and not keeping any help, you see--well, there! this is thebest I've got, and maybe it'll do to sleep in. "

She threw open, with mingled pride and nervousness, the door of apleasant, sunny room, rather bare, but in exquisite order. The ragcarpet was brilliant with scarlet, blue, and green; the furniture showedno smallest speck of dust; the bed looked like a snowdrift. Nevertheless, the good hostess went peering about, wiping the chairswith her apron, and repeating, "The dust _doos_ gather so! I wouldn'tset down, if I was you, till I've got the chairs done off!"

"Why, Mrs. Brett, " cried Hildegarde, laughing merrily, "it is the chairsyou should be anxious for, not ourselves. We are simply _covered_ withdust, from head to foot. I think it must be an inch deep on my hat!" shecontinued, taking off her round "sailor" and looking at it withpretended alarm. "I don't dare to put it down in this clean room. "

"Oh, _that_'s all right!" cried the widow, beaming. "Land sakes! I don'tcare how much dust you bring in, but I _should_ be lawth to have you getany on you here. Well, there! now you need a proper good rest, I'm sure, both of you. Wouldn't you like a cup o' tea now?"

[Illustration: "'NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!'"]

Both girls declined the tea, and declared that an hour's rest was allthey needed; so the good woman bade them "rest good!" and hurrieddownstairs, to fling herself into a Berserker fit of cooking. "Not athing in the house!" she soliloquized, as she sifted flour and beat eggswith the energy of desperation, "except cookies and doughnuts; andMarthy always has everything so nice, let alone what they're used to athome. I'll make up a sheet of sponge-cake, I guess, first, and whileit's baking I can whip up some chocolate frosting and mix a pan ofbiscuit. Le' me see! I might make a jelly-roll, while I'm about it, forthere's some of Marthy's own currant jelly that she sent me last fall. They'd ought to have some hearty victuals for supper, I suppose; but Ideclare, "--she paused, with the egg-beater in her hand, --"stuffedaigs'll have to do to-night, I guess!" she concluded with a sigh. "Thereisn't time to get a chicken ready. Well, there! If I'd ha' known! butthey'll have to take me as I am. I might give 'em some fritters, though, to eat with maple surrup, just for a relish. "

While these formidable preparations were going on against their peace ofbody, the two girls were enjoying an hour of perfect rest, each afterher own manner. Rose was curled up on the bed, in a delicious doze whichwas fast deepening into sound sleep. Hildegarde sat in a low chair witha book in her hand, and looked out of the window. She could always restbetter with a book, even if she did not read it; and the very touch ofthis little worn morocco volume--it was the "Golden Treasury"--was apleasure to her. She looked out dreamily over the pleasant green fieldsand strips of woodland; for the house stood at the very end of thelittle village, and the country was before and around it. Under thewindow lay the back yard, with a white lilac-tree in blossom, and awell with a long sweep. Such a pleasant place it looked! A lowstone-wall shut it in, the stones all covered with moss and gay red andyellow lichens. Beside the white lilac, there was a great elm and ayellow birch. In the latter was an oriole's nest; and presentlyHildegarde heard the bird's clear golden note, and saw his bright wingsflash by. "I like this place!" she said, settling herself comfortably inthe flag-bottomed chair. She dropped her eyes to the book in her lap andread, --

 "Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures While the landscape round it measures: Russet lawns, and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray; Mountains, on whose barren breast The laboring clouds do often rest; Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide. "

Then her eyes strayed over the landscape again. "There must be a brookover there, behind that line of willows!" she thought. "I wonder ifMilton loved willows. There are pines and monumental oaks in 'IlPenseroso, ' but I don't remember any willows. It's a pity we have noskylarks here! I do want Rose to hear a skylark. Dear Rose! dear Milton!Oh--I am _so_ comfortable!"

And Hildegarde was asleep. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

OLD MR. COLT. 

Supper was over. The girls had laughingly resisted their hostess'sappeal, "Just one more fritter, with another on each side to keep itwarm, --though I don't know as they _are_ fit to eat!" and on herpositive refusal to let them help wash the dishes, had retired to theback doorstep, from which they could watch the sunset. Here they werejoined by Bubble, who had found a lodging for himself, Dr. Abernethy, and the pony, in the family of Abner Colt, the mail-carrier. He took hisplace on the doorstep with the air of one who has fairly earned hisrepose. 

"Well, Bubble, " said Hildegarde, "tell us how you have fared. "

"Oh, very well!" answered the boy, --"very well, Miss Hilda! They're afunny set over there at Mr. Colt's, but they seem very kind, and theyhave given me a nice little room in the stable-loft, so 't I can see tothe Doctor any minute. "

"How is the dear beast?" asked Rose. "I thought he went a little lame, after he got that stone in his foot. "

"I have bathed the foot, " said Bubble, "and it'll be all rightto-morrow. Old Mr. Colt wanted to give me three different kinds ofliniment to rub on it, but hot water is all it needs. He's a queer oldfellow, old Mr. Colt!" he added meditatively. "Seems to live on medicinechiefly. "

"What do you mean?" asked the girls. 

"Why, " said Bubble, "he came in to supper--I hadn't seen himbefore--with a big bottle under his arm, and a box of pills in his hand. He came shuffling in in his stocking-feet, and when he saw me he gave akind of groan. 'Who's that?' says he. 'It's a boy come over fromBywood, ' says Mrs. Abner, as they call her. 'He's goin' to stop hereover night, Father. Ain't you glad to see him?--Father likes young folksreal well!' she says to me. The old gentleman gave a groan, and satdown, nursing his big bottle as if it were a baby. 'D'ye ever have thedyspepsy?' he asked, looking at me. 'No, sir!' said I. 'Never hadanything that I know of, 'cept the measles. ' He groaned again, andpoured something out of the bottle into a tumbler. 'You look kinder'pindlin', ' says he, shaking his head. 'I think likely you've got it onye 'thout knowin' it. It's sub-tile, dyspepsy is, --dreadful sub-tile. '"

"What did he mean?--subtle?" asked Hilda, laughing. 

"I suppose so!" replied the boy. "And then he took his medicine, groaning all the time and making the worst faces you ever saw. 'I reckonyou'd better take a swallow o' this, my son!' he said. 'It's apre-ventitative, as well 's a cure. '"

"Bubble, " cried his sister, "you are making this up. Confess, youmonkey!"

"I'm not!" said Bubble, laughing. "It's true, every word of it. I_couldn't_ make up old Mr. Colt! 'It's a pre-ventitative!' he says, andreaches out his hand for my tumbler. Then Abner, the young man, spokeup, and told him he guessed I'd be better without it, and that 't wasn'tmeant for young people, and so on. 'What is it, Mr. Colt?' I asked, seeing that he looked real--I mean very much--disappointed. Hebrightened up at once. 'It's Vino's Vegetable Vivifier!' he said. 'It'sthe greatest thing out for dyspepsy. How many bottles have I took, Leory?' 'I believe this is the tenth, Father!' said Mrs. Abner. 'And _I_don't see as 't 's done you a mite o' good!' she said to herself, but so't I could hear. 'Thar!' says the old man, nodding at me, as proud ascould be, 'd' ye hear that? Ten bottles I've took, at a dollar a bottle. Ah! it's great stuff. Ugh!' and he groaned and took a great piece ofmince-pie on his plate. 'Oh, Father!' says the young woman, '_do_ youthink you ought to eat mince-pie, after as sick as you was yesterday?'He was just as mad as hops! 'Ef I'm to be grutched vittles, ' he says, 'Iguess it's time for me to be quittin'. I've eat mince-pie seventy year, man an' boy, and I guess I ain't goin' to leave off now. I kin go overto Joel's, if so be folks begrutches me my vittles here. ' 'Oh, come, Father!' says Abner; 'you know Leory didn't mean nothing like that. Efyou've got to have the pie, why, you've _got_ to have it, that's all. 'The old man groaned, and pegged away at the pie like a good one. 'Ah!'he said, 'I sha'n't be here long, anyway. Nobody needn't be afraid o'_my_ eatin' up their substance. Hand me them doughnuts, Abner. Nothin'seems to have any taste to it, somehow. '"

"Did he eat nothing but pie and doughnuts?" asked Hilda. "I should beafraid he would die to-night. "

"Oh, " said Bubble, "you wouldn't believe me if I told you all the thingshe ate. Pickles and hot biscuit and cheese--and groaning all the time, and saying nobody knowed what dyspepsy was till they'd had it. Then, when he'd finished, he opened the pill-box, which had been close besidehis plate all the time, and took three great fat black pills. 'Have anytrouble with yer liver?' says he, turning to me again; 'there isnothin' like these pills for yer liver. You take two of these, andyou'll feel 'em all over ye in an hour's time, --all over ye!' I thought't was about time for me to go, so I said I must attend to the horse'sfoot, and went out to the stable. It was then that he brought me thethree kinds of liniment, and wanted me to rub them all on, 'so 's if onedidn't take holt, another would. '"

"What a dreadful old ghoul!" cried Hildegarde, indignantly. "I don'tthink it's safe for you to stay there, Bubble. I know he will poison youin some way. "

"You're talking about Cephas Colt, _I_ know, " said the voice of Mrs. Brett; and the good woman appeared with her knitting, and joined thegroup on the doorstep. "He is a caution, Cephas is, --a caution! He'sbeen dosing himself for the last thirty years, and it's a living miraclethat he is alive to-day Abner and Leory have a sight o' trouble withhim; but they're real good and patient, more so 'n I should be. Did heshow you his collection of bottles?" she added, turning to Bubble. 

"No, " replied the boy. "He did speak of showing me something; but I wasin a hurry to get over here, so I told him I couldn't wait. "

"You'll see 'em to-morrow, then!" said the widow. "It's his delight toshow 'em to strangers. Four thousand and odd bottles he has, --all physicbottles, that have held all the stuff he and his folks have taken forthirty years. "

"Four--thousand--bottles!" cried her hearers, in dismay. 

"And odd!" replied the widow, with emphasis. "He's adding new ones allthe time, and hopes to make it up to five thousand before he dies. Largeones and small, of course, and lotions and all. He takes every newthing that comes along, reg'lar. He has his wife's bottles all arrangedin a shape, kind o' monument-like. They do say he wanted to set them upon her grave, but I guess that's only talk. "

"How long ago did she die?" asked Rose. 

"Three year ago, it is now!" said Mrs. Brett. "Dosed herself to death, we all thought. She was just like him! Folks used to say they had pillsand catnip-tea for dinner the day they was married. You know how folkswill talk! It's a fact though"--here she lowered her voice--"and I'dought not to gossip about my neighbors, nor I don't among themselvesmuch, but strangers seem different somehow, --anyhow, it _is_ a fact thathe wanted to put a scandalous inscription on her monument in thecemetery, and Abner wouldn't let him; the only time Abner ever stoodout against his father, as I know of. "

"What was the inscription?" asked Hildegarde, trying hard to look asgrave as the subject required. 

"Well, --you mustn't say I told you!" said the Widow Brett, lowering hervoice still more, and looking about with an air of mystery, --"'t was

 'Phosphoria helped her for a spell; But Death spoke up, and all is well. '

'Sh! you mustn't laugh!" she added, as the three young people broke intopeals of laughter. "There! I'd ought not to have told. He didn't _mean_nothing improper, only to express resignation to the will o' Providence. Well, there! the tongue's an onruly member. And so you young ladiesthought you'd like to see Bixby, did ye?" she added, for the third orfourth time. "Well, I'm sure! Bixby'd oughter be proud. 'T _is_ asightly place, I've always thought. You must go over t' the cemeteryto-morrow, and see what there is to see. "

"Yes, we did want to see Bixby, " answered straightforward Hildegarde;"but we came still more to see you, Mrs. Brett. Indeed, we have a veryimportant message for you. "

And beginning at the beginning, Hildegarde unfolded the great scheme. Mrs. Brett listened, wide-eyed, following the recital with appreciativemotions of lips and hands. When it was over, she seemed for once at aloss for words. 

"I--well, there!" she said; and she crumpled up her apron, and thensmoothed it out again. "I--why, I don't know what _to_ say. Well! I'mcompletely, as you may say, struck of a heap. I don't know whatMarthy's thinking of, I'm sure. It isn't _me_ you want, surely. Youwant a woman with faculty!"

"Of course we do!" cried both girls, laughing. "That is why we have cometo you. "

"Sho!" said Mrs. Brett, crumpling her apron again, and trying not tolook pleased. "Why, young ladies, I couldn't do it, no way in the world. There's my chickens, you see, and my cow, let alone the house; not butwhat Joel (that's my nephew) would be glad enough to take keer of 'em. And goin' so fur away, as you may say--though 't would be pleasant to benigh Marthy--we was always friends, Marthy and me, since we wasgirls--and preserves to make, and fall cleanin' comin' on, and help soskurce as 'tis--why, I don't know what Marthy's thinkin' of, really Idon't. Children, too! why, I do love children, and I shouldn't neverthink I had things comfortable enough for 'em; not but that's a lovelyplace, pretty as ever I see. I helped Marthy clean it one spring, andsuch a fancy as I took to that kitchen, --why, there! and the little roomover it; I remember of saying to Marthy, says I, a woman might livehappy in those two rooms, let alone the back yard, with all that nicefine gravel for the chickens, I says. But there! I couldn't do it, MissGrahame, no way in the world. Why, I ain't got more'n half-a-dozenaprons to my back; so now you see!"

This last seemed such a very funny reason to give, that the three youngpeople could not help laughing heartily. 

"Martha has dozens and dozens of aprons, Mrs. Brett, " said Hildegarde. "She has a whole bureau full of them, because she is afraid her eyes maygive out some day, and then she will not be able to make any more. Andnow, just think a moment!" She laid her hand on the good woman's arm, and continued in her most persuasive tones: "Think of living in thatpleasant house, with the pretty room for your own, and the sunnykitchen, and the laundry, all under your own management. "

"Set tubs!" said Mrs. Brett, in a pathetic parenthesis. "If there's onething I've allers hankered after, more 'n another, it's a set tub!"

"And the dear little children playing about in the garden, and coming toyou with flowers, and looking to you as almost a second mother--"

"Little Joel, "--cried the widow, putting her apron to her eyes, andbeginning to rock gently to and fro--"I've allus felt that blessed childwould ha' lived, if he'd ha' been left with me. There! Joel's been agood nephew, there couldn't no one have a better; but his wife and me, we never conjingled. She took the child away, and it peaked and pinedfrom that day. Well, there! the ways are mysterious!"

"And you would take the chickens and the cow with you, of course, " thisartful girl went on; "for the children must have milk and eggs, and Inever tasted more delicious milk than this of yours. "

"I've no cause to be ashamed of the cow!" said the widow, still rocking. "There isn't a cow equal to her round Marthy's way. I've heerd Marthysay so. Sixteen quarts she gives, and I do 'clare it's most half cream. Jersey! there isn't many Jerseys round Marthy's way. "

"And then the comfort you would be to Martha and to dear Miss Bond!"Rose put in. "Martha has a good deal of rheumatism in winter, you know, and she says you are such a good nurse. She told me how you rubbed herin her rheumatic fever. She thinks you saved her life, and I am sure youdid. "

"If I rubbed Marthy Ellen Banks one foot, I rubbed her a hundred miles!"said Mrs. Brett, with a faint gleam in her moist eyes. "'From hertombstun back to a well woman is a good way, ' Dr. Jones says to me, 'andthat way you've rubbed Marthy Ellen, Mis' Brett!' says he. Good man Dr. Jones is, --none better! There isn't no one round Bixby can doctor mysciatica as he did when I was stayin' to Mis' Bond's last year. Mis'Bond, too, --well, there! she was a mother to me. Seemed like 't was morehome there than Bixby was, since little Joel died. Mysterious the waysis! Mr. Rawlins well?" she added, after a moment's pause. 

"Mr. --Oh, Jeremiah!" cried Hildegarde, after a moment of bewilderment. "Jeremiah is very well, all except a cough; and, dear me! Mrs. Brett, Ihaven't given you his message. 'Tell Mrs. Brett, ' he said, almost thelast thing before we came away this morning, --'tell Mrs. Brett she'll_have_ to come, to make me a treacle-posset for my cough. Not evenMartha can make treacle-posset like hers!' Those were Jeremiah's verywords, Mrs. Brett. "

A faint color stole into the widow's thin cheeks. She sat up straight, and began to smooth out her apron. "Miss Grahame, " she saidemphatically, "I verily believe you could persuade a cat out of abird's-nest. If it seems I'm really needed over to Bywood--I don'thardly know how I _can_ go--but--well, there! you've come so fur, and Ido like to 'commodate; so--well, I don't really see how I can--but--Iwill!"

CHAPTER XVIII. 

JOYOUS GARD. 

It was the tenth day of September, and as pleasant a day as one couldwish to see. The sun shone brightly everywhere; but Hildegarde thoughtthat the laughing god sent his brightest golden rays down on the spotwhere she was standing. The House in the Wood no longer justified itsname; for the trees had been cut away from around it, --only a fewstately pines and ancient hemlocks remaining to mount guard over thecottage, and to make pleasant shady places on the wide, sunny lawns thatstretched before and behind it. The brook no longer murmured unseen, butlaughed now in the sunlight, and reflected every manner of prettything, --fleecy cloudlet, fluttering bird or butterfly, nodding fern orsoldierly "cat-tail. "

The house itself looked alert and wide-awake, with all its windowsthrown open, and its door standing hospitably ajar, as if awaitingwelcome guests. From an upper window came a sound of singing, for Rosewas there, arranging flowers in the vases; from another direction washeard the ring of a hammer, as Bubble gave the last strokes to awonderful cart which he had been making, and which was to be hiscontribution to the Country Home. 

Hildegarde stood on the piazza, alone; her hands were full of flowers, and the "laughing light" of them was reflected in her bright, lovelyface. She looked about her on the sunny greenery, on the blue shiningstream, up to the bluer sky above. "This is the happiest day of mylife!" said the girl, softly. She wondered what she had done, that allthis joy and brightness should be hers. Every one was so good to her;every one had helped so kindly in the undertaking, from the beginningdown to this happy end. There had been a good deal to be done, ofcourse; but it seemed as if every hand had been outstretched to aid thiswork of her heart. 

Cousin Wealthy, of course, had made it possible, and had been absorbedin it, heart and soul, as had all the others of the household. But therehad also been so many pleasant tokens from outside. When Mrs. Brettarrived a week before, to take charge of the house, she brought a box ofcontributions from her neighbors in Bixby, to whom she had told thestory of the Country Home, --scrap-books, comforters, rag-babies, preserves, pop-corn, pincushions, catsup, kettle-holders. Bixby haddone what it could, and the girls and Miss Wealthy and Martha weredelighted with everything; but there was much laughter when the widowpulled out a huge bottle of Vino's Vegetable Vivifier, and presented it, with a twinkle in her eye, as the gift of Mr. Cephas Colt. Nor had thescattered villagers of Bywood been less generous. One good farmer hadbrought a load of wood; another, some sacks of Early Rose potatoes; athird presented a jar of June butter; a fourth, some home-mademaple-syrup. The wives and daughters had equalled those of Bixby intheir gifts of useful trifles; and Rose, who was fond of details, calculated that there were two tidies for every chair in the house. 

The boys of the neighborhood, who had at first shown a tendency to sitround on stumps and jeer at the proceedings, had now, at Hildegarde'ssuggestion, formed themselves into a Kindling-Wood Club, under Bubble'sleadership; and they split wood every afternoon for an hour, with suchgood results that Jeremiah reckoned they wouldn't need no coal roundthis place; they could burn kindlin's as reckless as if they wassomebody's else hired gal!

Then, the day before, a great cart had rumbled up to the door, bringinga packing-case, of a shape which made Hildegarde cry out, and clap herhands, and say, "Papa! I _know_ it is Papa!"--which for the momentgreatly disconcerted the teamster, who had no idea of carrying people'spapas round in boxes. But when the case was opened, there was theprettiest upright piano that ever was seen; and sure enough, a noteinside the cover said that this was "for Hildegarde's Hobby, fromHildegarde's Poppy. " But more than that! the space between the piano andthe box was completely filled with picture-books, --layers and layers ofthem; Walter Crane, and Caldecott, and Gordon Browne, and all the mostdelightful picture-books in the world. And in each book was written "TheRainy-Day Library;" which when Hildegarde saw, she began to cry, andsaid that her mother was the most blessed creature in the world. 

But after all, the thing that had touched the girl's heart most deeplywas the arrival, this very morning, of old Galusha Pennypacker, shuffling along with his stick, and bent almost double under the weightof a great sack which he carried on his back. Mrs. Brett had beenlooking out of the window, and announced that a crazy man was coming:"Looks like it, anyway. Hadn't I better call Zee-rubble, Miss Grahame?"

But Hildegarde looked out, recognized the old man, and flew to meet him. "Good-morning, Mr. Pennypacker!" she cried cordially. "Do let me helpyou with that heavy bag! There! now sit down here in the shade, for I amsure you are very tired. "

She brought a chair quickly; and the old man sank into it, for he wasindeed exhausted by the long walk under his heavy burden. He gaspedpainfully for breath; and it was not till Hildegarde had brought himwater, and fanned him diligently for some minutes, that he was able tospeak. 

"Thank ye!" he said at last, drawing out something that might once havebeen a handkerchief, and wiping his wrinkled face. "It's a warm day--forwalkin'. "

"Yes, indeed it is!" Hildegarde assented. "And it is a long walk fromyour house, Mr. Pennypacker. I fear it has been too much for you. Couldyou not have got one of the neighbors to give you a lift?"

"No! no!" replied the old man quickly, with a cunning gleam in hissharp little eyes. "I'd ruther walk, --I'd ruther! Walkin' don't costnothin'! They'd charged me, like's not, a quarter for fetchin' on mehere. They think the old man's got money, but he hain't; no, he hain'tgot one red cent, --not for them he hain't. " He paused, and beganfumbling at the string of the sack. "Hearin' you was settin' up ahorspittle here, " he said, "I cal'lated to bring two or three apples. Children likes apples, don't they?" He looked up suddenly, with the samefierce gleam which had frightened Hildegarde and Rose so when they firstsaw him; but Hildegarde had no longer any fear of the singular old man. 

"Yes, they do!" she said warmly. "I don't know of anything they like sowell, Mr. Pennypacker. How very kind of you! And you came all this wayon foot, to bring them?"

"The' warn't no shorter way!" replied old Galusha, dryly. "Thar'! Ireckon them's good apples. "

They were superb Red Astrakhans; every one, so far as Hildegarde couldsee, perfect in shape and beauty. Moreover, they had all been polishedtill they shone mirror-like. Hildegarde wondered what they had beenrubbed with, but dismissed the thought, as one unwise to dwell upon. 

"They's wuth money, them apples!" said the old man, after she hadthanked him again and again for the timely gift. "Money!" he repeated, lingering on the word, as if it were pleasant to the taste. "Huh! thereain't nobody else on the yearth I'd ha' give so much as a core of one of'em to, 'cept you, young woman. "

"I'm sure you are extremely kind, Mr. Pennypacker!" was all Hildegardecould say. 

"Ye've took thought for me!" said the old man. "The' ain't nobody tookthought for old G'lushe Pennypacker, round here, not for a good while. Ye was to my place yesterday, warn't ye?" He looked up again, with asudden glare. 

"Yes, " Hildegarde admitted, "I was; and my friend too. She knit thestockings for you, sir. I hope you liked them. "

"Yes, yes!" said the old man, absently. "Good stockin's, good stockin's!Nice gal she is too. But--'t was you left the book, warn't it, hey?"

"Yes, " said Hildegarde, blushing. "I am so fond of 'Robinson Crusoe'myself, I thought you might like it too. "

"Hain't seen that book for fifty year!" said the old man. "Sot up alllast night readin' it. It'll be comp'ny to me all winter. And you--youtook thought on me!--a young, fly-away, handsome gal, and old G'lushePennypacker! Wal, 't won't be forgot here, nor yet yender!"

He gave an upward jerk of his head, and then passed his rag of ahandkerchief over his face again, and said he must be going. But he didnot go till he had had a glass of milk, and half-a-dozen of Mrs. Brett'sdoughnuts, to strengthen him for his homeward walk. 

All this came back to Hildegarde, as she stood on the piazza; and as sherecalled the softened, friendly look in the old man's eyes as he badeher good-by, she said again to herself, "This is the happiest day of mylife!" The next day would not be so happy, for Rose and Bubble weregoing, --one to her home at Hartley's Glen, the other to his school inNew York; and in a fortnight she must herself be turning her facehomeward. 

How short the summer had been!--had there ever been such a flyingseason?--and yet she had done very little; she had only been happy, andenjoyed herself. Miss Wealthy, perhaps, could have told anotherstory, --of kind deeds and words; of hours spent in reading aloud, inwinding wools, in arranging flowers, in the thousand littlehelpfulnesses by which a girl can make herself beloved and necessary ina household. To the gentle, dreamy, delicate Rose, Hildegarde had really_been_ the summer. Without this strong arm always round her, this strongsunny nature, helping, cheering, amusing, how could she have come out ofthe life-long habits of invalidism, and learned to face the worldstanding on both feet? She could not have done it, Rose felt; and withthis feeling, she probably would not have done it. 

But, as I said, Hildegarde knew nothing of this. She had been happy, that was all. And though she was going to her own beloved home, and tothe parents who were the greater part of the world to her, still shewould be sorry to leave this happiness even for a completer one. 

But hark! was that the sound of wheels? Yes; they were coming. 

"Cousin Wealthy!" cried the girl, running to the door. "Rose! Bubble!Martha! Mrs. Brett! Benny! Come out, all of you! The stage is here!"

Out they came, all running, all out of breath, save Miss Wealthy, whoknew the exact number of steps that would bring her to the exact middleof the piazza, and took these steps with her usual gentle precision ofmovement. She had no sooner taken up the position which she felt to bethe proper one for her, than round the corner came the Bywood stage, --along, lumbering, ramshackle vehicle, in which sat Mrs. Murray, akind-looking nurse, and the twelve convalescent children who were tohave the first delights of the Country Home. 

At sight of them Bubble began to wave his hat violently. "Hooray!" heshouted. "Three cheers for the young uns!"

"Hooray!" echoed Benny, flapping his hands about, as he had no hat towave. 

The children set up a feeble shout in reply, and waved heads, arms, andlegs indiscriminately. Then ensued a scene of joyous confusion. Thelittle ones were lifted out, kissed, and welcomed; their bundlesfollowed; and for a few minutes the quiet place was filled with a veryBabel of voices. 

High above them all rose the clarion tones of Benny, explaining to aformer fellow-patient his present position in life. "I don't liveshere!" he said; "I lives a little way off. I's ve boy of ve house whereI lives, and I takes care of a whole lot of womenfolks, and Jim Mariahelps me, and vere's anover boy who does fings for me. It's bully, andI'm goin' to stay vere all my life long. "

Mrs. Murray looked quickly at Miss Wealthy. "Does he know of hismother's death?" she asked in a low tone. 

"No!" replied Miss Wealthy. "He has almost forgotten her, poor littlelad! I fear she was not very kind to him. And I have decided to keephim, Mrs. Murray, and to give him a happy childhood, and then send himto a good school. He is a most lovable child, and it will be a privilegeto have him, especially as my dear young relative is to leave me soon. "

Both looked instinctively toward Hildegarde, who was standing, flushedand radiant, the centre of a group of children, who clustered roundher, pulling at her hands and clinging to her gown. 

"What's the name of this place?" one little fellow was asking her. "Ilike this place! What is its name?"

"It is called Joyous Gard!" replied Hildegarde. "That was the name of abeautiful castle, long and long ago, which belonged to a very braveknight; and we think it will be a good name for your Country Home, because we mean to make it full of joy and happiness, and yet to guardyou well in it. So Joyous Gard it is to be. Say it now, all ofyou, --'Joyous Gard!'"

And "Joyous Gard!" shouted the children, their voices echoing merrilyamong the trees, and spreading away, till Rose, the romantic, wonderedif some faint tone of it might not reach a pale shade called Lancelot duLake, and bring him comfort where he sorrowed for his sins. 

So in Joyous Gard let us leave our Hildegarde, --in each hand a child, around her many loving hearts, in her own heart great joy and light andlove. Let us leave her, and wish that all girls might know the cheer andhappiness that was hers, not for that day only, but through all herdays. 

THE END. 

Selections from L. C. Page & Company's Books for Young People

THE BLUE BONNET SERIES

 _Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $ 2. 00

 _The seven volumes, boxed as a set_ 14. 00

=A TEXAS BLUE BONNET=

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS. 

=BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY=

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND EDYTH ELLERBECK READ. 

=BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON=

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS. 

=BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE=

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS. 

=BLUE BONNET--DÉBUTANTE=

By LELA HORN RICHARDS. 

=BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS=

By LELA HORN RICHARDS. 

=BLUE BONNET'S FAMILY=

By LELA HORN RICHARDS. 

 "Blue Bonnet has the very finest kind of wholesome, honest, lively girlishness and cannot but make friends with every one who meets her through these books about her. "--_Chicago Inter-Ocean. _

 "Blue Bonnet and her companions are real girls, the kind that one would like to have in one's home. "--_New York Sun. _

=THE HENRIETTA SERIES=

By LELA HORN RICHARDS

 _Each one volume, 12mo, illustrated_ $1. 90

=ONLY HENRIETTA=

 "It is an inspiring story of the unfolding of life for a young girl--a story in which there is plenty of action to hold interest and wealth of delicate sympathy and understanding that appeals to the hearts of young and old. "--_Pittsburgh Leader. _

=HENRIETTA'S INHERITANCE=

 "One of the most noteworthy stories for girls issued this season. The life of Henrietta is made very real, and there is enough incident in the narrative to balance the delightful characterization. "--_Providence Journal. _

=THE BOYS' STORY OF THE RAILROAD SERIES=

By BURTON E. STEVENSON

_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, _ $1. 75

=THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND=; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN WEST. 

 "The whole range of section railroading is covered in the story. "--_Chicago Post. _

=THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER=

 "A vivacious account of the varied and often hazardous nature of railroad life. "--_Congregationalist. _

=THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER=

 "It is a book that can be unreservedly commended to anyone who loves a good, wholesome, thrilling, informing yarn. "--_Passaic News. _

=THE YOUNG APPRENTICE=; OR, ALLAN WEST'S CHUM. 

 "The story is intensely interesting. "--_Baltimore Sun. _

=THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY SERIES=

=Of Worth While Classics for Boys and Girls=

 _Revised and Edited for the Modern Reader Each large 12mo, illustrated and with a poster jacket in full color_ $2. 00

=THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY=

By W. H. DAVENPORT ADAMS. 

=THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS=

By C. M. YONGE. 

=ERLING THE BOLD=

By R. M. BALLANTYNE. 

=WINNING HIS KNIGHTHOOD=; Or, THE ADVENTURES OF RAOULF DE GYSSAGE. 

By H. TURING BRUCE. 

 "Tales which ring to the clanking of armour, tales of marches and counter-marches, tales of wars, but tales which bring peace; a peace and contentment in the knowledge that right, even in the darkest times, has survived and conquered. "--_Portland Evening Express. _

=BARBARA WINTHROP SERIES=

By HELEN KATHERINE BROUGHALL

 _Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated_ $2. 00

=BARBARA WINTHROP AT BOARDING SCHOOL=

=BARBARA WINTHROP AT CAMP=

=BARBARA WINTHROP: GRADUATE=

=BARBARA WINTHROP ABROAD=

 "Full of adventure--initiations, joys, picnics, parties, tragedies, vacation and all. Just what girls like, books in which 'dreams come true, ' entertaining 'gossipy' books overflowing with conversation. "--_Salt Lake City Deseret News. _

 "High ideals and a real spirit of fun underlie the stories. They will be a decided addition to the bookshelves of the young girl for whom a holiday gift is contemplated. "--_Los Angeles Saturday Night. _

=DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL SERIES=

By MARION AMES TAGGART

 _Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume, _ $1. 75

=THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL=

 "A charming story of the ups and downs of the life of a dear little maid. "--_The Churchman. _

=SWEET NANCY:= THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL. 

 "Just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence cannot but be elevating. "--_New York Sun. _

=NANCY, THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE PARTNER=

 "The story is sweet and fascinating, such as many girls of wholesome tastes will enjoy. "--_Springfield Union. _

=NANCY PORTER'S OPPORTUNITY=

 "Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young woman, with plenty of pluck. "--_Boston Globe. _

=NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS=

 "The story is refreshing. "--_New York Sun. _

 * * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired. 

In the Hildegarde-Margaret Series advertisement, the price per volumehad been blotted out by a reader and $2. 00 written in. A search foradvertisements of this set costing $19. 75 shows them individually at$1. 75 and the text has been changed to reflect that.