QUEEN HILDEGARDE BOOKS BY LAURA E. RICHARDS * * * * * Each 1 volume, cloth decorative, illustrated, $1. 75 Star Bright Captain January The above volumes boxed as a set, $3. 50 STORIES FOR LITTLE FOLKS Each, one volume, cloth decorative, illustrated Five Minute Stories $1. 75 More Five Minute Stories 1. 75 Three Minute Stories 1. 75 A Happy Little Time 1. 75 Four Feet, Two Feet, No Feet 2. 75 When I Was Your Age 1. 75 THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES Captain January $1. 00 Melody 1. 00 Each, one volume, illustrated, 90 cents Jim of Hellas Marie Rosin the Beau Snow-white Narcissa "Some Day" Nautilus Isla Heron The Little Master Captain January--_Baby Peggy Edition_ $2. 50 HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES Each, one volume, illustrated, $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 are also boxed as a set, $19. 25 * * * * * Honor Bright $1. 75 Honor Bright's New Adventure 1. 75 The Armstrongs 1. 50 The Green Satin Gown 1. 50 * * * * * L. C. PAGE & COMPANY (Inc. ) 53 Beacon Street Boston, Mass. [Illustration: "SHE GLANCED INTO THE LONG CHEVAL-GLASS. "] _THE HILDEGARDE SERIES_ Queen Hildegarde 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, 1889, by_ THE PAGE COMPANY Copyright renewed, 1917 Made in U. S. A. Thirty-second Impression, August, 1927 THE COLONIAL PRESS C. H. SIMONDS CO. , BOSTON, U. S. A. TO MY BELOVED SISTER, =Maud Howe Elliott. = CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. HILDEGARDIS GRAHAM 9 II. DAME AND FARMER 31 III. THE PRISONER OF DESPAIR 49 IV. THE NEW HILDA 73 V. THE BLUE PLATTER 94 VI. HARTLEY'S GLEN 111 VII. PINK CHIRK 135 VIII. THE LETTER 160 IX. THE OLD CAPTAIN 178 X. A PARTY OF PLEASURE 198 XI. THE WARRIOR QUEEN 218 XII. THE OLD MILL 237 XIII. THE TREE-PARTY 272 THE LAST WORD 289 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE "SHE GLANCED INTO THE LONG CHEVAL-GLASS" (_See page 32_) _Frontispiece_ "SHE PUSHED THE BUSHES ASIDE AND CAME TOWARDS HIM" 47 "SHE BENT IN REAL DISTRESS OVER THE CURRANTS" 89 "SHE FLUNG THE CORN IN GOLDEN SHOWERS ON THEIR HEADS" 117 "THE PALE GIRL MADE NO ATTEMPT TO RISE" 155 "'SAY, MISS HILDY, --DO YOU LIKE PURPS?'" 205 "EACH TOOK A SKIMMER AND SET EARNESTLY TO WORK" 227 "'TAKE IT AND OPEN IT!'" 267 QUEEN HILDEGARDE. CHAPTER I. HILDEGARDIS GRAHAM. "And have you decided what is to become of Hilda?" asked Mrs. Graham. "Hilda?" replied her husband, in a tone of surprise, "Hilda? why, shewill go with us, of course. What else should become of the child? Shewill enjoy the trip immensely, I have no doubt. " Mrs. Graham sighed and shook her head. "I fear that is impossible, dearGeorge!" she said. "To tell the truth, I am a little anxious aboutHilda; she is not at all well. I don't mean that she is actually _ill_, "she added quickly, as Mr. Graham looked up in alarm, "but she seemslanguid and dispirited, has no appetite, and is inclined to befretful, --an unusual thing for her. " "Needs a change!" said Mr. Graham, shortly. "Best thing for her. Beenstudying too hard, I suppose, and eating caramels. If I could discoverthe man who invented that pernicious sweetmeat, I would have himhanged!--hanged, madam!" "Oh, no, you wouldn't, dear!" said his wife, laughing softly; "I thinkhis life would be quite safe. But about Hilda now! She _does_ need achange, certainly; but is the overland journey in July just the rightkind of change for her, do you think?" Mr. Graham frowned, ran his fingers through his hair, drummed on thetable, and then considered his boots attentively. "Well--no!" he said atlast, reluctantly. "I--suppose--not. But what _can_ we do with her? Sendher to Fred and Mary at the seashore?" "To sleep in a room seven by twelve, and be devoured by mosquitoes, andhave to wear 'good clothes' all the time?" returned Mrs. Graham. "Certainly not. " "Aunt Emily is going to the mountains, " suggested Mr. Graham, doubtfully. "Yes, " replied his wife, "with sixteen trunks, a maid, a footman, andthree lapdogs! _That_ would _never_ do for Hilda. " "You surely are not thinking of leaving her alone here with theservants?" The lady shook her head. "No, dear; such poor wits as Heaven granted meare not yet entirely gone, thank you!" Mr. Graham rose from his chair and flung out both arms in a mannerpeculiar to him when excited. "Now, now, now, Mildred!" he saidimpressively, "I have always said that you were a good woman, and Ishall continue to assert the same; but you have powers of tormentingthat could not be surpassed by the most heartless of your sex. It isperfectly clear, even to my darkened mind, that you have some plan forHilda fully matured and arranged in that scheming little head of yours;so what is your object in keeping me longer in suspense? Out with it, now! What are you--for of course I am in reality only a cipher (atolerably large cipher) in the sum--what are you, the commander-in-chief, going to do with Hilda, the lieutenant-general? If you will kindlyinform the orderly-sergeant, he will act accordingly, and endeavor todo his duty. " Pretty Mrs. Graham laughed again, and looked up at the six-feet-two ofsturdy manhood standing on the hearth-rug, gazing at her with eyes whichtwinkled merrily under the fiercely frowning brows. "You are a very_dis_orderly-sergeant, dear!" she said. "Just look at your hair! Itlooks as if all the four winds had been blowing through it--" "Instead of all the ten fingers _going_ through it, " interrupted herhusband. "Never mind my hair; that is not the point. _What_--do--you--propose--to--do--with--your daughter--Hildegarde, orHildegardis, as it should properly be written?" "Well, dear George, " said the commander-in-chief (she was a very smallwoman and a very pretty one, though she had a daughter "older thanherself, " as her husband said; and she wore a soft lilac gown, and hadsoft, wavy brown hair, and was altogether very pleasant to lookat)--"well, dear George, the truth is, I _have_ a little plan, which Ishould like very much to carry out, if you fully approve of it. " "Ha!" said Mr. Graham, tossing his "tempestuous locks" again, "ho! Ithought as much. _If_ I approve, eh, little madam? Better say, whether Iapprove or not. " So saying, the good-natured giant sat himself down again, and listenedwhile his wife unfolded her plan; and what the plan was, we shall see byand by. Meanwhile let us take a peep at Hilda, or Hildegardis, as shesits in her own room, all unconscious of the plot which is hatching inthe parlor below. She is a tall girl of fifteen. Probably she hasattained her full height, for she looks as if she had been growing toofast; her form is slender, her face pale, with a weary look in the largegray eyes. It is a delicate, high-bred face, with a pretty nose, slightly "tip-tilted, " and a beautiful mouth; but it is half-spoiled bythe expression, which is discontented, if not actually peevish. If welifted the light curling locks of fair hair which lie on her forehead, we should see a very decided frown on a broad white space which ought tobe absolutely smooth. Why should a girl of fifteen frown, especially agirl so "exceptionally fortunate" as all her friends considered HildaGraham? Certainly her surroundings at this moment are pretty enough tosatisfy any girl. The room is not large, but it has a sunny bay-windowwhich seems to increase its size twofold. In re-furnishing it a yearbefore, her father had in mind Hilda's favorite flower, theforget-me-not, and the room is simply a bower of forget-me-nots. Scattered over the dull olive ground of the carpet, clustering andnodding from the wall-paper, peeping from the folds of the curtains, theforget-me-nots are everywhere. Even the creamy surface of the toilet-jugand bowl, even the ivory backs of the brushes that lie on theblue-covered toilet table, bear each its cluster of pale-blue blossoms;while the low easy-chair in which the girl is reclining, and the prettysofa with its plump cushions inviting to repose, repeat the same tale. The tale is again repeated, though in a different way, by a scrollrunning round the top of the wall, on which in letters of blue and goldis written at intervals: "Ne m'oubliez pas!" "Vergiss mein nicht!" "Nonti scordar!" and the same sentiment is repeated in Spanish, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, of all which tongues the fond father possessedknowledge. Is not this indeed a bower, wherein a girl ought to be happy? the birdin the window thinks his blue and gold cage the finest house in theworld, and sings as heartily and cheerily as if he had been in the widegreen forest; but his mistress does not sing. She sits in theeasy-chair, with a book upside-down in her lap, and frowns, --actuallyfrowns, in a forget-me-not bower! There is not much the matter, really. Her head aches, that is all. Her German lesson has been longer andharder than usual, and her father was quite right about the caramels;there is a box of them on the table now, within easy reach of the slimwhite hand with its forget-me-not ring of blue turquoises. (I do notaltogether agree with Mr. Graham about hanging the caramel-maker, but Ishould heartily like to burn all his wares. Fancy a great mountain ofcaramels and chocolate-creams and marrons glacés piled up in UnionSquare, for example, and blazing away merrily, --that is, if the thingswould burn, which is more than doubtful. How the maidens would weep andwring their hands while the heartless parents chuckled and fed theflames with all the precious treasures of Maillard and Huyler! Ah! it isa pleasant thought, for I who write this am a heartless parent, do yousee?) As I said before, Hilda had no suspicion of the plot which her parentswere concocting. She knew that her father was obliged to go to SanFrancisco, being called suddenly to administer the estate of a cousinwho had recently died there, and that her mother and--as shesupposed--herself were going with him to offer sympathy and help to thewidow, an invalid with three little children. As to the idea of herbeing left behind; of her father's starting off on a long journeywithout his lieutenant-general; of her mother's parting from her onlychild, whom she had watched with tender care and anxiety since the dayof her birth, --such a thought never came into Hilda's mind. Wherever herparents went she went, as a matter of course. So it had always been, andso without doubt it always would be. She did not care specially aboutgoing to California at this season of the year, --in fact she had toldher bosom friend, Madge Everton, only the day before, that it was"rather a bore, " and that she should have preferred to go to Newport. "But what would you?" she added, with the slightest shrug of her prettyshoulders. "Papa and mamma really must go, it appears; so of course Imust go too. " "A bore!" repeated Madge energetically, replying to the first part ofher friend's remarks. "Hilda, what a _very_ singular girl you are! HereI, or Nelly, or _any_ of the other girls would give both our ears, andour front teeth too, to make such a trip; and just because you _can_ go, you sit there and call it 'a bore!'" And Madge shook her black curls, and opened wide eyes of indignation and wonder at our ungratefulheroine. "I only wish, " she added, "that you and I could be changed intoeach other, just for this summer. " "I wish--" began Hilda; but she checked herself in her response to thewish, as the thought of Madge's five brothers rose in her mind (Hildacould not endure boys!), looked attentively at the toe of her littlebronze slipper for a few moments, and then changed the subject byproposing a walk. "Console yourself with the caramels, my fiery Madge, "she said, pushing the box across the table, "while I put on my boots. Wewill go to Maillard's and get some more while we are out. His caramelsare decidedly better than Huyler's; don't you think so!" A very busy woman was pretty Mrs. Graham during the next two weeks. First she made an expedition into the country "to see an old friend, "she said, and was gone two whole days. And after that she was out everymorning, driving hither and thither, from shop to dressmaker, fromdressmaker to milliner, from milliner to shoemaker. "It is a sad thing, " Mr. Graham would say, when his wife fluttered into lunch, breathless and exhausted and half an hour late (she, the mostpunctual of women!), --"it is a sad thing to have married a comet bymistake, thinking it was a woman. How did you find the other planetsthis morning, my dear? Is it true that Saturn has lost one of his rings?and has the Sun recovered from his last attack of spots? I really fear, "he would add, turning to Hilda, "that this preternatural activity inyour comet-parent portends some alarming change in the--a--atmosphericphenomena, my child. I would have you on your guard!" and then he wouldlook at her and sigh, shake his head, and apply himself to the coldchicken with melancholy vigor. Hilda thought nothing of her father's remarks, --papa was always talkingnonsense, and she thought she always understood him perfectly. It didoccur to her, however, to wonder at her mother's leaving her out on allher shopping expeditions. Hilda rather prided herself on her skill inmatching shades and selecting fabrics, and mamma was generally glad ofher assistance in all such matters. However, perhaps it was onlyunder-clothing and house-linen, and such things that she was buying. Allthat was the prosy part of shopping. It was the poetry of it that Hildaloved, --the shimmer of silk and satin, the rich shadows in velvet, thecool, airy fluttering of lawn and muslin and lace. So the girl went onher usual way, finding life a little dull, a little tiresome, and mostpeople rather stupid, but everything on the whole much as usual, if herhead only would not ache so; and it was without a shadow of suspicionthat she obeyed one morning her mother's summons to come and see her inher dressing-room. Mr. Graham always spoke of his wife's dressing-room as "the citadel. " Itwas absolutely impregnable, he said. In the open field of thedrawing-room or the broken country of the dining-room it might bepossible--he had never known such a thing to occur, but still it _might_be possible--for the commander-in-chief to sustain a defeat; but onceintrenched behind the walls of the citadel, horse, foot, and dragoonsmight storm and charge upon her, but they could not gain an inch. Not aninch, sir! True it was that Mrs. Graham always felt strongest in thisparticular room. She laughed about it, but acknowledged the fact. Here, on the wall, hung a certain picture which was always an inspiration toher. Here, on the shelf above her desk, were the books of her heart, thefew tried friends to whom she turned for help and counsel when thingspuzzled her. (Mrs. Graham was never disheartened. She didn't believethere was such a word. She was only "puzzled" sometimes, until she sawher way and her duty clear before her, and then she went straightforward, over a mountain or through a stone wall, as the case mightbe. ) Here, in the drawer of her little work-table, were some relics, --atiny, half-worn shoe, a little doll, a sweet baby face laughing from anivory frame: the insignia of her rank in the great order of sorrowingmothers; and these, perhaps, gave her that great sympathy and tendernessfor all who were in trouble which drew all sad hearts towards her. And so, on this occasion, the little woman had sat for a few momentslooking at the pictured face on the wall, with its mingled majesty andsweetness; had peeped into the best-beloved of all books, and said alittle prayer, as was her wont when "puzzled, " before she sent themessage to Hilda, --for she knew that she must sorely hurt and grieve thechild who was half the world to her; and though she did not flinch fromthe task, she longed for strength and wisdom to do it in the kindest andwisest way. "Hilda, dear, " she said gently, when they were seated together on thesofa, hand in hand, with each an arm round the other's waist, as theyloved best to sit, --"Hilda, dear, I have something to say that will notplease you; something that may even grieve you very much at first. " Shepaused, and Hilda rapidly reviewed in her mind all the possibilitiesthat she could think of. Had anything happened to the box of Frenchdresses which was on its way from Paris? Had a careless servant brokenthe glass of her fernery again? Had Aunt Emily been saying disagreeablethings about her, as she was apt to do? She was about to speak, but atthat moment, like a thunderbolt, the next words struck her ear: "We havedecided not to take you with us to California. " Amazed, wounded, indignant, Hilda could only lift her great gray eyes to meet the softviolet ones which, full of unshed tears, were fixed tenderly upon her. Mrs. Graham continued: "Your father and I both feel, my darling, thatthis long, fatiguing journey, in the full heat of summer, would be theworst possible thing for you. You have not been very well lately, and itis most important that you should lead a quiet, regular, healthy lifefor the next few months. We have therefore made arrangements to leaveyou--" But here Hilda could control herself no longer. "Mamma! mamma!" shecried. "How can you be so unkind, so cruel? Leave me--you and papa both?Why, I shall die! Of course I shall die, all alone in this great house. I thought you loved me!" and she burst into tears, half of anger, halfof grief, and sobbed bitterly. "Dear child!" said Mrs. Graham, smoothing the fair hair lovingly, "ifyou had heard me out, you would have seen that we had no idea of leavingyou alone, or of leaving you in this house either. You are to staywith--" "Not with Aunt Emily!" cried the girl, springing to her feet withflashing eyes. "Mamma, I would rather beg in the streets than stay withAunt Emily. She is a detestable, ill-natured, selfish woman. " "Hildegarde, " said Mrs. Graham gravely, "be silent!" There was a momentof absolute stillness, broken only by the ticking of the little crystalclock on the mantelpiece, and then Mrs. Graham continued: "I must askyou not to speak again, my daughter, until I have finished what I haveto say; and even then, I trust you will keep silence until you are ableto command yourself. You are to stay with my old nurse, Mrs. Hartley, ather farm near Glenfield. She is a very kind, good woman, and will takethe best possible care of you. I went to the farm myself last week, andfound it a lovely place, with every comfort, though no luxuries, savethe great one of a free, healthy, natural life. There, my Hilda, weshall leave you, sadly indeed, and yet feeling that you are in good andloving hands. And I feel very sure, " she added in a lighter tone, "thatby the time we return, you will be a rosy-cheeked country lass, strongand hearty, with no more thought of headaches, and no wrinkle in yourforehead. " As she ceased speaking, Mrs. Graham drew the girl close toher, and kissed the white brow tenderly, murmuring: "God bless mydarling daughter! If she knew how her mother's heart aches at partingwith her!" But Hilda did not know. She was too angry, too bewildered, too deeply hurt, to think of any one except herself. She felt that shecould not trust herself to speak, and it was in silence, and withoutreturning her mother's caress, that she rose and sought her own room. Mrs. Graham looked after her wistfully, tenderly, but made no effort tocall her back. The tears trembled in her soft blue eyes, and her lipquivered as she turned to her work-table; but she said quietly toherself: "Solitude is a good medicine. The child will do well, and Iknow that I have chosen wisely for her. " Bitter tears did Hildegarde shed as she flung herself face downward onher own blue sofa. Angry thoughts surged through her brain. Now sheburned with resentment at the parents who could desert her, --their onlychild; now she melted into pity for herself, and wept more and more asshe pictured the misery that lay before her. To be leftalone--_alone!_--on a squalid, wretched farm, with a dirty old woman, awoman who had been a servant, --she, Hildegardis Graham, the idol of herparents, the queen of her "set" among the young people, the proudest andmost exclusive girl in New York, as she had once (and not withdispleasure) heard herself called! What would Madge Everton, what would all the girls say! How they wouldlaugh, to hear of Hilda Graham living on a farm among pigs and hens anddirty people! Oh! it was intolerable; and she sprang up and paced thefloor, with burning cheeks and flashing eyes. The thought of opposing the plan did not occur to her. Mrs. Graham'srule, gentle though it was, was not of the flabby, nor yet of theelastic sort. Her decisions were not hastily arrived at; but once made, they were final and abiding. "You might just as well try to oppose theGulf Stream!" Mr. Graham would say. "They do it sometimes with icebergs, and what is the result? In a few days the great clumsy things are bowingand scraping and turning somersaults, and fairly jostling each other intheir eagerness to obey the guidance of the insidious current. InsidiousCurrent, will you allow a cup of coffee to drift in my direction? Ishall be only too happy to turn a somersault if it will affordyou--thanks!--the smallest gratification. " So Hildegarde's first lessons had been in obedience and in truthfulness;and these were fairly well learned before she began her ABC. And so sheknew now, that she might storm and weep as she would in her own room, but that the decree was fixed, and that unless the skies fell, hersummer would be passed at Hartley's Glen. CHAPTER II. DAME AND FARMER. When the first shock was over, Hilda was rather glad than otherwise tolearn that there was to be no delay in carrying out the odious plan. "The sooner the better, " she said to herself. "I certainly don't want tosee any of the girls again, and the first plunge will be the worst ofit. " "What clothes am I to take?" she asked her mother, in a tone which shementally denominated "quiet and cold, " though possibly some people mighthave called it "sullen. " "Your clothes are already packed, dear, " replied Mrs. Graham; "you haveonly to pack your dressing-bag, to be all ready for the start to-morrow. See, here is your trunk, locked and strapped, and waiting for theporter's shoulder;" and she showed Hilda a stout, substantial-lookingtrunk, bearing the initials H. G. "But, mamma, " Hilda began, wondering greatly, "my dresses are allhanging in my wardrobe. " "Not all of them, dear!" said her mother, smiling. "Hark! papa iscalling you. Make haste and go down, for dinner is ready. " Wondering more and more, Hildegarde made a hasty toilet, putting on thepretty pale blue cashmere dress which her father specially liked, withsilk stockings to match, and dainty slippers of bronze kid. As sheclasped the necklace of delicate blue and silver Venetian beads whichcompleted the costume, she glanced into the long cheval-glass whichstood between the windows, and could not help giving a little approvingnod to her reflection. Though not a great beauty, Hildegarde wascertainly a remarkably pretty and even distinguished-looking girl; and"being neither blind nor a fool, " she soliloquized, "where is the harmin acknowledging it?" But the next moment the thought came: "Whatdifference will it make, in a stupid farm-house, whether I am pretty ornot? I might as well be a Hottentot!" and with the "quiet and cold" lookdarkening over her face, she went slowly down stairs. Her father met her with a kiss and clasp of the hand even warmer thanusual. "Well, General!" he said, in a voice which insisted upon being cheery, "marching orders, eh? Marching orders! Break up camp! boot, saddle, tohorse and away! Forces to march in different directions, by order of thecommander-in-chief. " But the next moment he added, in an altered tone:"My girl, mamma knows best; remember that! She is right in this move, asshe generally is. Cheer up, darling, and let us make the last evening ahappy one!" Hilda tried to smile, for who _could_ be angry with papa? She made alittle effort, and the father and mother made a great one, --_how_ greatshe could not know; and so the evening passed, better than might havebeen expected. The evening passed, and the night, and the next day came; and it waslike waking from a strange dream when Hilda found herself in a railwaytrain, with her father sitting beside her, and her mother's farewellkiss yet warm on her cheek, speeding over the open country, away fromhome and all that she held most dear. Her dressing-bag, with herumbrella neatly strapped to it, was in the rack overhead, the check forher trunk in her pocket. Could it all be true? She tried to listen whileher father told her of the happy days he had spent on his grandfather'sfarm when he was a boy; but the interest was not real, and she found ithard to fix her mind on what he was saying. What did she care aboutswinging on gates, or climbing apple-trees, or riding unruly colts! Shewas not a boy, nor even a tomboy. When he spoke of the delights ofwalking in the country through woodland and meadow, her thoughts strayedto Fifth Avenue, with its throng of well-dressed people, the glitteringequipages rolling by, the stately houses on either side, through whoseshining windows one caught glimpses of the splendors within; and to thePark, with its shady alleys and well-kept lawns. Could there be anywalking so delightful as that which these afforded? Surely not! Ah!Madge and Helen were probably just starting for their walk now. Did theyknow of her banishment? would they laugh at the thought of QueenHildegardis vegetating for three months at a wretched-- "Glenfield!" The brakeman's voice rang clear and sharp through the car. Hilda started, and seized her father's hand convulsively. "Papa!" she whispered, "O papa! don't leave me here; take me home! Icannot bear it!" "Come, my child!" said Mr. Graham, speaking low, and with an odd catchin his voice; "that is not the way to go into action. Remember, this isyour first battle. So, eyes front! charge bayonets! quick step! forward, _march_!" The train had stopped. They were on the platform. Mr. Graham led Hildaup to a stout, motherly-looking woman, who held out her hand with abeaming smile. "Here is my daughter, Mrs. Hartley!" he said, hastily. "You will takegood care of her, I know. My darling, good-by! I go on to Dashford, andhome by return train in an hour. God bless you, my Hilda! Courage! Up, Guards, and at them! Remember Waterloo!" and he was gone. The engineshrieked an unearthly "Good-by!" and the train rumbled away, leavingHilda gazing after it through a mist which only her strong willprevented from dissolving in tears. "Well, my dear, " said Dame Hartley's cheery voice, "your papa's gone, and you must not stand here and fret after him. Here is old Nancyshaking her head, and wondering why she does not get home to her dinner. Do you get into the cart, and I will get the station-master to put yourtrunk in for us. " Hilda obeyed in silence; and climbing into the neat wagon, took her seatand looked about her while Dame Hartley bustled off in search of thestation-master. There was not very much to look at at Glenfield station. The low wooden building with its long platform stood on a bare spot ofground, from which the trees all stood back, as if to mark theirdisapproval of the railway and all that belonged to it. The sandy soilmade little attempt to produce vegetation, but put out little humps ofrock occasionally, to show what it could do. Behind, a road led off intothe woods, hiding itself behind the low-hanging branches of chestnut andmaple, ash and linden trees. That was all. Now that the train was gone, the silence was unbroken save by the impatient movements of the oldwhite mare as she shook the flies off and rattled the jingling harness. Hilda was too weary to think. She had slept little the night before, andthe suddenness of the recent changes confused her mind and made her feelas if she were some one else, and not herself at all. She sat patiently, counting half-unconsciously each quiver of Nancy's ears. But now DameHartley came bustling back with the station-master, and between the two, Hilda's trunk was hoisted into the cart. Then the good woman climbed inover the wheel, settled her ample person on the seat and gathered up thereins, while the station-master stood smoothing the mare's mane, readyfor a parting word of friendly gossip. "Jacob pooty smart!" he asked, brushing a fly from Nancy's shoulder. "Only middling, " was the reply. "He had a touch o' rheumatiz, that lastspell of wet weather, and it seems to hang on, kind of. Ketches him inthe joints and the small of his back if he rises up suddin. " "I know! I know!" replied the station-master, with eager interest. "Jestlike my spells ketches me; on'y I have it powerful bad acrost myshoulders, too. I been kerryin' a potato in my pocket f'r over and abovea week now, and I'm in hopes 't'll cure me. " "A potato in your pocket!" exclaimed Dame Hartley. "Reuel Slocum! what_do_ you mean?" "Sounds curus, don't it?" returned Mr. Slocum. "But it's a fact thatit's a great cure for rheumatiz. A grea-at cure! Why, there's BarzillaySmith, over to Peat's Corner, has kerried a potato in his pocket forfive years, --not the same potato, y' know; changes 'em when they beginto sprout, --and he hesn't hed a touch o' rheumatism all that time. Not atouch! tol' me so himself. " "Had he ever hed it before?" asked Dame Hartley. "I d'no as he hed, " said Mr. Slocum, "But his father hed; an' hisgranf'ther before him. So ye see--" But here Hilda uttered a long sigh of weariness and impatience; and DameHartley, with a penitent glance at her, bade good-morning to the victimof rheumatism, gave old Nancy a smart slap with the reins, and drove offdown the wood-road. "My dear child, " she said to Hilda as they jogged along, "I ought not tohave kept you waiting so long, and you tired with your ride in the cars. But Reuel Slocum lives all alone here, and he does enjoy a little chatwith an old neighbor more than most folks; so I hope you'll excuse me. " "It is of no consequence, thank you, " murmured Hildegarde, with coldcivility. She did not like to be called "my dear child, " to begin with;and besides, she was very weary and heartsick, and altogether miserable. But she tried to listen, as the good woman continued to talk in acheery, comfortable tone, telling her how fond she had always been of"Miss Mildred, " as she called Mrs. Graham, and how she had the care ofher till she was almost a woman grown, and never would have left herthen if Jacob Hartley hadn't got out of patience. "And to think how you've grown, Hilda dear! You don't remember it, ofcourse, but this isn't the first time you have been at Hartley's Glen. Asweet baby you were, just toddling about on the prettiest little feet Iever saw, when your mamma brought you out here to spend a month with oldNurse Lucy. And your father came out every week, whenever he could getaway from his business. What a fine man he is, to be sure! And he and myhusband had rare times, shooting over the meadows, and fishing, and thelike. " They were still in the wood-road, now jolting along over ridges andhummocks, now ploughing through stretches of soft, sandy soil. Above andon either side, the great trees interlaced their branches, sometimesletting them droop till they brushed against Hilda's cheek, sometimeslifting them to give her a glimpse of cool vistas of dusky green, shadewithin shade, --moss-grown hollows, where the St. John's-wort showed itstarnished gold, and white Indian pipe gleamed like silver along theground; or stony beds over which, in the time of the spring rains, little brown brooks ran foaming and bubbling down through the woods. Theair was filled with the faint cool smell of ferns, and on every sidewere great masses of them, --clumps of splendid ostrich-ferns, wavingtheir green plumes in stately pride; miniature forests of the gracefulbrake, beneath whose feathery branches the wood-mouse and other tinyforest-creatures roamed secure; and in the very road-way, trampled underold Nancy's feet, delicate lady-fern, and sturdy hart's-tongue, and adozen other varieties, all perfect in grace and sylvan beauty. Hilda wasconscious of a vague delight, through all her fatigue and distress Howbeautiful it was; how cool and green and restful! If she must stay inthe country, why could it not be always in the woods, where there was nonoise, nor dust, nor confusion? Her revery was broken in upon by Dame Hartley's voice crying cheerily, -- "And here we are, out of the woods at last! Cheer up, my pretty, and letme show you the first sight of the farm. It's a pleasant, heartsomeplace, to my thinking. " The trees opened left and right, stepping back and courtesying, liketrue gentlefolks as they are, with delicate leaf-draperies drooping low. The sun shone bright and hot on a bit of hard, glaring yellow road, andtouched more quietly the roofs and chimneys of an old yellow farm-housestanding at some distance from the road, with green rolling meadows onevery side, and a great clump of trees mounting guard behind it. A lowstone wall, with wild-roses nodding over it, ran along the roadside forsome way, and midway in it was a trim, yellow-painted gate, which stoodinvitingly open, showing a neat drive-way, shaded on either side bygraceful drooping elms. Old Nancy pricked up her ears and quickened herpace into a very respectable trot, as if she already smelt her oats. Dame Hartley shook her own comfortable shoulders and gave a little sighof relief, for she too was tired, and glad to get home. But Hildatightened her grasp on the handle of her dressing-bag, and closed hereyes with a slight shiver of dislike and dread. She would not look atthis place. It was the hateful prison where she was to be shut up forthree long, weary, dismal months. The sun might shine on it, the treesmight wave, and the wild-roses open their slender pink buds; it would benothing to her. She hated it, and nothing, nothing, _nothing_ could_ever_ make her feel differently. Ah! the fixed and immovabledetermination of fifteen, --does later life bring anything like it? But now the wagon stopped, and Hilda must open her eyes, whether shewould or no. In the porch, under the blossoming clematis, stood a tall, broad-shouldered man, dressed in rough homespun, who held out his greatbrown hand and said in a gruff, hearty voice, -- "Here ye be, eh? Thought ye was never comin'. And this is little miss, is it? Howdy, missy? Glad to see ye! Let me jump ye out over the wheel!" But Hilda declined to be "jumped out;" and barely touching the profferedhand, sprang lightly to the ground. "Now, Marm Lucy, " said Farmer Hartley, "let's see you give a jump likethat. 'Tain't so long, seems to me, sence ye used to be as spry as ahoppergrass. " Dame Hartley laughed, and climbed leisurely down from the cart. "Nevermind, Jacob!" she said; "I'm spry enough yet to take care of you, if Ican't jump as well as I used. " "This missy's trunk?" continued the farmer. "Let me see! What's missy'sname now? Huldy, ain't it! Little Huldy! 'Pears to me that's what theyused to call ye when ye was here before. " "My name is Hildegardis Graham!" said Hilda in her most icymanner, --what Madge Everton used to call herEmpress-of-Russia-in-the-ice-palace-with-the-mercury-sixty-degrees-below-zeromanner. "Huldy Gardies!" repeated Farmer Hartley. "Well, that's a comical namenow! Sounds like Hurdy-gurdys, doosn't it? Where did Mis' Graham pick upa name like that, I wonder? But I reckon Huldy'll do for me, 'thout theGardies, whatever they be. " "Come, father, " said Dame Hartley, "the child's tired now, an' I guessshe wants to go upstairs. If you'll take the trunk, we'll follow ye. " The stalwart farmer swung the heavy trunk up on his shoulder as lightlyas if it were a small satchel, and led the way into the house and up thesteep, narrow staircase. CHAPTER III. THE PRISONER OF DESPAIR. As she followed in angry silence, Hilda had a glimpse through ahalf-open door of a cosey sitting-room; while another door, standingfully open at the other end of the little hall, showed, by a blaze ofscarlet tiger-lilies and yellow marigolds, where the garden lay. And nowthe farmer opened a door and set down the trunk with a heavy thump; andDame Hartley, taking the girl's hand, led her forward, saying: "Here, mydear, here is your own little room, --the same that your dear mamma sleptin when she was here! And I hope you'll be happy in it, Hilda dear, andget all the good we wish for you while you're here!" Hilda bowedslightly, feeling unable to speak; and the good woman continued: "Youmust be hungry as well as tired, travelling since morning. It's near ourdinner-time. Or shall I bring ye up something now, --a cup o' tea and acooky, eh? Or would you like solid victuals better?" "Thank you!" said Hilda. "I am not at all hungry; I could not possiblyeat anything. My head aches badly!" she added, nervously forestallingher hostess's protestations. "Perhaps a cup of tea later, thank you! Ishould like to rest now. And I shall not want any dinner. " "Oh! you'll feel better, dear, when you have rested a bit, " said DameHartley, smoothing the girl's fair hair with a motherly touch, and notseeming to notice her angry shrinking away. "It's the best thing you cando, to lie down and take a good nap; then you'll wake up fresh as alark, and ready to enjoy yourself. Good-by, dearie! I'll bring up yourtea in an hour or so. " And with a parting nod and smile, the good womandeparted, leaving Hilda, like the heroine of a three-volume novel, "alone with her despair. " Very tragic indeed the maiden looked as she tossed off her hat and flungherself face downward on the bed, refusing to cast even a glance at thecell which was to be her hateful prison. "For of course I shall spend mytime here!" she said to herself. "They may send me here, keep me herefor years, if they will; but they cannot make me associate with thesepeople. " And she recalled with a shudder the gnarled, horny hand whichshe had touched in jumping from the cart, --she had never felt anythinglike it; the homely speech, and the nasal twang with which it wasdelivered; the uncouth garb (good stout butternut homespun!) and unkempthair and beard of the "odious old savage, " as she mentally named FarmerHartley. After all, however, Hilda was only fifteen; and after a few minutes, Curiosity began to wake; and after a short struggle with Despair, itconquered, and she sat up on the bed and looked about her. It was not a very dreadful cell. A bright, clean, fresh little room, allwhite and blue. White walls, white bedstead, with oh! such snowycoverings, white dimity curtains at the windows, with old-fashioned ballfringes, a little dimity-covered toilet-table, with a quaintlooking-glass framed with fat gilt cherubs, all apparently trying tofold their wings in such a way as to enable them to get a peep atthemselves in the mirror, and not one succeeding. Then there was a lowrocking-chair, and another chair of the high-backed order, and a tallchest of drawers, all painted white, and a wash-hand-stand with a set ofdark-blue crockery on it which made the victim of despair open her eyeswide. Hilda had a touch of china mania, and knew a good thing when shesaw it; and this deep, eight-sided bowl, this graceful jug with thequaint gilt dragon for a handle, these smaller jugs, boxes, and dishes, all of the same pattern, all with dark-blue dragons (no cold "Canton"blue, but a rich, splendid ultramarine), large and small, prancing andsprawling on a pale buff ground, --what were these things doing in thepaltry bedroom of a common farm-house? Hilda felt a new touch ofindignation at "these people" for presuming to have such things in theirpossession. When her keen eyes had taken in everything, down to the neat rag-carpeton the floor, the girl bethought her of her trunk. She might as wellunpack it. Her head could not ache worse, whatever she did; and now thatthat little imp Curiosity was once awake, he prompted her to wonder whatthe trunk contained. None of the dresses she had been wearing, she wassure of that; for they were all hanging safely in her wardrobe at home. What surprise had mamma been planning? Well, she would soon know. Hastily unlocking the trunk, she lifted out one tray after another andlaid them on the bed. In the first were piles of snowy collars andhandkerchiefs, all of plain, fine linen, with no lace or embroidery; abroad-brimmed straw hat with a simple wreath of daisies round it;another hat, a small one, of rough gray felt, with no trimming at all, save a narrow scarlet ribbon; a pair of heavy castor gloves; a couple ofwhite aprons, and one of brown holland, with long sleeves. The next traywas filled with dresses, --dresses which made Hilda's eyes open wideagain, as she laid them out, one by one, at full length. There was adark blue gingham with a red stripe, a brown gingham dotted with yellowdaisies, a couple of light calicoes, each with a tiny figure or floweron it, a white lawn, and a sailor-suit of rough blue flannel. All thesedresses, and among them all not an atom of trimming. No sign of anoverskirt, no ruffle or puff, plaiting or ruching, no "Hamburg" orlace, --nothing! Plain round waists, neatly stitched at throat andwrists; plain round skirts, each with a deep hem, and not so much as atuck by way of adornment. Hildegarde drew a deep breath, and looked at the simple frocks withkindling eyes and flushing cheeks. These were the sort of dresses thather mother's servants wore at home. Why was she condemned to wear themnow, --she, who delighted in soft laces and dainty embroideries and theclinging draperies which she thought suited her slender, pliant figureso well? Was it a part of this whole scheme; and was the object of thescheme to humiliate her, to take away her self-respect, her properpride? Mechanically, but carefully, as was her wont, Hilda hung the despisedfrocks in the closet, put away the hats, after trying them on andapproving of them, in spite of herself ("Of course, " she said, "mamma_could_ not get an ugly hat, if she tried!"), and then proceeded to takeout and lay in the bureau drawers the dainty under-clothing which filledthe lower part of the trunk. Under all was a layer of books, at sightof which Hilda gave a little cry of pleasure. "Ah!" she said, "I shallnot be quite alone;" for she saw at a glance that here were some old anddear friends. Lovingly she took them up, one by one: "Romances of theMiddle Ages, " Percy's "Reliques, " "Hereward, " and "Westward, Ho!" and, best-beloved of all, the "Adventures of Robin Hood, " by grace of HowardPyle made into so strong an enchantment that the heart thrills even atsight of its good brown cover. And here was her Tennyson and herLongfellow, and Plutarch's Lives, and the "Book of Golden Deeds. " Verilya goodly company, such as might even turn a prison into a palace. Butwhat was this, lying in the corner, with her Bible and Prayer-book, thiswhite leather case, with--ah! Hilda--with blue forget-me-nots delicatelypainted on it? Hastily Hilda took it up and pressed the spring. Hermother's face smiled on her! The clear, sweet eyes looked lovingly intohers; the tender mouth, which had never spoken a harsh or unkind word, seemed almost to quiver as if in life. So kind, so loving, so faithful, so patient, always ready to sympathize, to help, to smile with one's joyor to comfort one's grief, --her own dear, dear mother! A mist camebefore the girl's eyes. She gazed at the miniature till she could nolonger see it; and then, flinging herself down on the pillow again, sheburst into a passion of tears, and sobbed and wept as if her heart wouldbreak. No longer Queen Hildegardis, no longer the outraged and indignant"prisoner, " only Hilda, --Hilda who wanted her mother! Finally she sobbed herself to sleep, --which was the very best thing shecould have done. By and by Dame Hartley peeped softly in, and seeing thechild lying "all in a heap, " as she said to herself, with her prettyhair all tumbled about, brought a shawl and covered her carefully up, and went quietly away. "Pretty lamb!" said the good woman. "She'll sleep all the afternoon now, like enough, and wake up feeling a good bit better, --though I fear itwill be a long time before your girlie feels at home with Nurse Lucy, Miss Mildred, dear!" Sure enough, Hilda did sleep all the afternoon; and the soft summertwilight was closing round the farm-house when she woke with a startfrom a dream of home. "Mamma!" she called quickly, raising herself from the bed. For onemoment she stared in amazement at the strange room, with its unfamiliarfurnishing; but recollection came only too quickly. She started up as aknock was heard at the door, and Dame Hartley's voice said: "Hilda, dear, supper is ready, and I am sure you must be very hungry. Will you come down with me?" "Oh! thank you, presently, " said Hildegarde, hastily. "I am not--Ihaven't changed my dress yet. Don't wait for me, please!" "Dear heart, don't think of changing your dress!" said Dame Hartley. "You are a country lassie now, you know, and we are plain farm people. Come down just as you are, there's a dear!" Hilda obeyed, only waiting to wash her burning face and hot, dry handsin the crystal-cold water which she poured out of the blue dragonpitcher. Her hair was brushed back and tied with a ribbon, the littlecurls combed and patted over her forehead; and in a few minutes shefollowed her hostess down the narrow staircase, with a tolerablyresigned expression on her pretty face. To tell the truth, Hilda felt agreat deal better for her long nap; moreover she was a little curious, and very, very hungry, --and oh, how good something did smell! Mrs. Hartley led the way into the kitchen, as the chief room at HartleyFarm was still called, though the cooking was now done by means of amodern stove in the back kitchen, while the great fireplace, with thecrane hanging over it, and the brick oven by its side, was used, as arule, only to warm the room. At this season the room needed no warming, and feathery asparagus crowned the huge back-log, and nodded between theiron fire-dogs. Ah! it was a pleasant room, the kitchen at HartleyFarm, --wide and roomy, with deep-seated windows facing the south andwest; with a floor of dark oak, which shone with more than a century ofscrubbing. The fireplace, oven, and cupboards occupied one whole side ofthe room. Along the other ran a high dresser, whose shelves held agoodly array of polished pewter and brass, shining glass, and curiousold china and crockery. Overhead were dark, heavy rafters, relieved bythe gleam of yellow "crook-neck" squashes, bunches of golden corn, andlong festoons of dried apples. In one window stood the good dame'srocking-chair, with its gay patchwork cushion; and her Bible, spectacles, and work-basket lay on the window-seat beside it. Inanother was a huge leather arm-chair, which Hilda rightly supposed to bethe farmer's, and a wonderful piece of furniture, half desk, half chestof drawers, with twisted legs and cupboards and pigeon-holes and tinydrawers, and I don't know what else. The third window Hilda thought wasthe prettiest of all. It faced the west, and the full glory of sunsetwas now pouring through the clustering vines which partly shaded it. Thesash was open, and a white rose was leaning in and nodding in a friendlyway, as if greeting the new-comer. A low chair and a little work-table, both of quaint and graceful fashion, stood in the recess; and on thewindow-seat stood some flowering-plants in pretty blue and white pots. "I suppose _I_ am expected to sit there!" said Hilda to herself. "As ifI should sit down in a kitchen!" But all the while she knew in her heartof hearts that this was one of the most attractive rooms she had everseen, and that that particular corner was pretty enough and picturesqueenough for a queen to sit in. You are not to think that she saw allthese things at the first glance; far from it. There was something elsein the room which claimed the immediate attention of our heroine, andthat was a square oak table, shining like a mirror, and covered withgood things, --cold chicken, eggs and bacon, golden butter and honey, agreat brown loaf on a wonderful carved wooden platter, delicate rollspiled high on a shallow blue dish, and a portly glass jug filled withrich, creamy milk. Here was a pleasant sight for a hungry heroine offifteen! But alas! at the head of this inviting table sat FarmerHartley, the "odious savage, " in his rough homespun coat, with his hairstill very far from smooth (though indeed he had brushed it, and thebroad, horny hands were scrupulously clean). With a slight shudder Hildatook the seat which Dame Hartley offered her. "Well, Huldy, " said the farmer, looking up from his eggs and bacon witha cheery smile, "here ye be, eh? Rested after yer journey, be ye?" "Yes, thank you!" said Hilda, coldly. "Have some chick'n!" he continued, putting nearly half a chicken on herplate. "An' a leetle bacon, jes' ter liven it up, hey? That's right!It's my idee thet most everythin' 's the better for a bit o' bacon, unless it's soft custard. I d' 'no ez thet 'ud go with it pitickler. Haw! haw!" Hilda kept her eyes on her plate, determined to pay no attention to thevulgar pleasantries of this unkempt monster. It was hard enough to eatwith a steel fork, without being further tormented. But the farmerseemed determined to drag her into conversation. "How's yer ha-alth in gineral, Huldy? Pooty rugged, be ye? Seems to meye look kin' o' peaked. " "I am quite well!" It was Queen Hildegarde who spoke now, in icy tones;but her coldness had no effect on her loquacious host. "I s'pose ye'll want ter lay by a day or two, till ye git used terthings, like; but then I sh'll want ye ter take holt. We're short-handednow, and a smart, likely gal kin be a sight o' help. There's the cowster milk--the' ain't but one o' them thet's real ugly, and _she_ onlykicks with the off hind-leg; so 't's easy enough ter look out for her. " Hilda looked up in horror and amazement, and caught a twinkle in thefarmer's eye which told her that he was quizzing her. The angry bloodsurged up even to the roots of her hair; but she disdained to reply, andcontinued to crumble her bread in silence. "Father, what ails you?" said kind Dame Hartley. "Why can't you let thechild alone? She's tired yet, and she doesn't understand your jokingways. --Don't you mind the farmer, dear, one bit; his heart's in theright place, but he do love to tease. " But the good woman's gentle words were harder to bear, at that moment, than her husband's untimely jesting. Hilda's heart swelled high. Shefelt that in another moment the tears must come; and murmuring a word ofexcuse, she hastily pushed back her chair and left the room. An hour after, Hilda was sitting by the window of her own room, lookinglistlessly out on the soft summer evening, and listening to themelancholy cry of the whippoorwill, when she heard voices below. Thefarmer was sitting with his pipe in the vine-clad porch just under thewindow; and now his wife had joined him, after "redding up" the kitchen, and giving orders for the next morning to the tidy maidservant. "Well, Marm Lucy, " said Farmer Hartley's gruff, hearty voice, "now thetyou have your fine bird, I sh'd like to know what you're a-goin' to dowith her. She's as pretty as a pictur, but a stuck-up piece as ever Isee. Don't favor her mother, nor father either, as I can see. " "Poor child!" said Dame Hartley, with a sigh, "I fear she will have ahard time of it before she comes to herself. But I promised Miss Mildredthat I would try my best; and you said you would help me, Jacob. " "So I did, and so I will!" replied the farmer. "But tell me agin, whatwas Miss Mildred's idee? I got the giner'l drift of it, but I can't seemto put it together exactly. I didn't s'pose the gal was _this_ kind, anyhow. " "She told me, " Dame Hartley said, "that this child--her only one, Jacob!you know what that means--was getting into ways she didn't like. Goingabout with other city misses, who cared for nothing but pleasure, andwho flattered and petted her because of her beauty and her pretty, proudways (and maybe because of her father's money too; though Miss Mildreddidn't say that), she was getting to think too much of herself, and tocare too much for fine dresses and sweetmeats and idle chatter aboutnothing at all. " (How Hilda's cheeks burned as she remembered the longséances in her room, she on the sofa, and Madge in the arm-chair, withthe box of Huyler's or Maillard's best always between them! Had theyever talked of anything "worth the while, " as mamma would say? Sheremembered mamma's coming in upon them once or twice, with her sweet, grave face. She remembered, too, a certain uneasy feeling she had hadfor a moment--only for a moment--when the door closed behind her mother. But Madge had laughed, and said, "Isn't your mother perfectly sweet? Shedoesn't mind a bit, does she?" and she had answered, "Oh, no!" and hadforgotten it in the account of Helen McIvor's new bonnet. ) "And thenMiss Mildred said, 'I had meant to take her into the country with methis summer, and try to show the child what life really means, and lether learn to know her brothers and sisters in the different walks ofthis life, and how they live, and what they do. I want her to see forherself what a tiny bit of the world, and what a silly, useless, gildedbit, is the little set of fashionable girls whom she has chosen for herfriends. But this sudden call to California has disarranged all myplans. I cannot take her with me there, for the child is not well, andcountry air and quiet are necessary for her bodily health. And so, NurseLucy, ' she says, 'I want _you_ to take my child, and do by her as youdid by me!' "'Oh! Miss Mildred, ' I said, 'do you think she can be happy or contentedhere? I'll do my best; I'm sure you know that! But if she's as you say, she is a very different child to what you were, Miss Mildred dear. ' "'She will not be happy at first, ' says Miss Mildred. 'But she has areally noble nature, Nurse Lucy, and I am very sure that it will triumphover the follies and faults which are on the outside. ' "And then she kissed me, the dear! and came up and helped me set thelittle room to rights, and kissed the pillows, sweet lady, and criedover them a bit. Ah me! 'tis hard parting from our children, even for alittle while, that it is. " Dame Hartley paused and sighed. Then she said: "And so, here the childis, for good or for ill, and we must do our very best by her, Jacob, youas well as I. What ailed you to-night, to tease her so at supper? Ithought shame of you, my man. " "Well, Marm Lucy, " said the farmer, "I don't hardly know what ailed me. But I tell ye what, 'twas either laugh or cry for me, and I thoughtlaughin' was better nor t'other. To see that gal a-settin' there, withher pretty head tossed up, and her fine, mincin' ways, as if 'twas anhonor to the vittles to put them in her mouth; and to think of mymaid--" He stopped abruptly, and rising from the bench, began to pace upand down the garden-path. His wife joined him after a moment, and thetwo walked slowly to and fro together, talking in low tones, while thesoft summer darkness gathered closer and closer, and the pleasantnight-sounds woke, cricket and katydid and the distant whippoorwillfilling the air with a cheerful murmur. Long, long sat Hildegarde at the window, thinking more deeply than shehad ever thought in her life before. Different passions held her youngmind in control while she sat motionless, gazing into the darkness withwide-open eyes. First anger burned high, flooding her cheek with hotblushes, making her temples throb and her hands clench themselves in apassion of resentment. But to this succeeded a mood of deep sadness, ofdespair, as she thought; though at fifteen one knows not, happily, themeaning of despair. Was this all true? Was she no better, no wiser, than the silly girls ofher set? She had always felt herself so far above them mentally; theyhad always so frankly acknowledged her supremacy; she knew she wasconsidered a "very superior girl:" was it true that her only superioritylay in possessing powers which she never chose to exert? And then camethe bitter thought: "What have I ever done to prove myself wiser thanthey?" Alas for the answer! Hilda hid her face in her hands, and it wasshame instead of anger that now sent the crimson flush over her cheeks. Her mother despised her! Her mother--perhaps her father too! They lovedher, of course; the tender love had never failed, and would never fail. They were proud of her too, in a way. And yet they despised her; theymust despise her! How could they help it? Her mother, whose days were aceaseless round of work for others, without a thought of herself; herfather, active, energetic, business-like, --what must her life seem tothem? How was it that she had never seen, never dreamed before, that shewas an idle, silly, frivolous girl? The revelation came upon her withstunning force. These people too, these coarse country people, despisedher and laughed at her! The thought was more than she could bear. Shesprang up, feeling as if she were suffocating, and walked up and downthe little room with hurried and nervous steps. Then suddenly there cameinto her mind one sentence of her mother's that Dame Hartley hadrepeated: "Hilda has a really noble nature--" What was the rest?Something about triumphing over the faults and follies which layoutside. Had her mother really said that? Did she believe, trust in, hersilly daughter? The girl stood still, with clasped hands and bowed head. The tumult within her seemed to die away, and in its place something wastrembling into life, the like of which Hilda Graham had never known, never thought of, before; faint and timid at first, but destined to gainstrength and to grow from that one moment, --a wish, a hope, finally aresolve. CHAPTER IV. THE NEW HILDA. The morning came laughing into Hilda's room, and woke her with such aflash of sunshine and trill of bird-song that she sprang up smiling, whether she would or no. Indeed, she felt happier than she could havebelieved to be possible. The anger, the despair, even theself-humiliation and anguish of repentance, were gone with the night. Morning was here, --a new day and a new life. "Here is the newHildegarde!" she cried as she plunged her face into the clear, sparklingwater. "Do you see me, blue dragons? Shake paws, you foolish creatures, and don't stand ramping and glaring at each other in that way! Here is anew girl come to see you. The old one was a minx, --do you hear, dragons?" The dragons heard, but were too polite to say anything; and asfor not ramping, why they had ramped and glared for fifty years, and hadno idea of making a change at their time of life. The gilt cherubs round the little mirror were more amiable, and smiledcheerfully at Hilda as she brushed and braided her hair, and put on thepretty blue gingham frock. "We have no clothes ourselves, " they seemedto say, "but we appreciate good ones when we see them!" Indeed, thefrock fitted to perfection. "And after all, " said the new Hilda as shetwirled round in front of the glass, "what _is_ the use of anoverskirt?" after which astounding utterance, this young personproceeded to do something still more singular. After a moment'shesitation she drew out one of the white aprons which she had scornfullylaid in the very lowest drawer only twelve hours before, tied it roundher slender waist, and then, with an entirely satisfied little nod atthe mirror, she tripped lightly downstairs and into the kitchen. DameHartley was washing dishes at the farther end of the room, in her neatlittle cedar dish-tub, with her neat little mop; and she nearly droppedthe blue and white platter from her hands when she heard Hilda'scheerful "Good morning, Nurse Lucy!" and, turning, saw the girl smilinglike a vision of morning. "My dear, " she cried, "sure I thought you were fast asleep still. I wasgoing up to wake you as soon as I had done my dishes. And did you sleepwell your first night at Hartley's Glen?" "Oh, yes! I slept very sound indeed, " said Hilda, lightly. And then, coming close up to Dame Hartley, she said in an altered tone, and withheightened color: "Nurse Lucy, I did not behave well last night, and Iwant to tell you that I am sorry. I am not like mamma, but I want togrow a little like her, if I can, and you must help me, please!" Her voice faltered, and good Nurse Lucy, laying down her mop, took theslender figure in her motherly arms, from which it did not now shrinkaway. "My lamb!" she said; "Miss Mildred's own dear child! You look liker yourblessed mother this minute than I ever thought you would. Help you? ThatI will, with all my heart!--though I doubt if you need much help, comingto yourself so soon as this. Well, well!" "Coming to herself!" It was the same phrase the good dame had used thenight before, and it struck Hilda's mind with renewed force. Yes, shehad come to herself, --her new self, which was to be so different fromthe old. How strange it all was! What should she do now, to prove thenew Hilda and try her strength? Something must be done at once; the timefor folded hands and listless revery was gone by. "Shall I--may I help you to get breakfast?" she asked aloud, rathertimidly. "Breakfast? Bless you, honey, we had breakfast two hours ago. We farmersare early birds, you know. But you can lay a plate and napkin foryourself, if you like, while I drop a couple of fresh eggs and toast abit of bacon for you. Do you like bacon, then?" Rather disappointed at the failure of her first attempt to be useful, Hilda laid the snowy napkin on the shining table, and chose a prettyblue and white plate from the well-stocked shelves of the dresser. "And now open that cupboard, my lamb, " said her hostess, "and you'llfind the loaf, and a piece of honeycomb, and some raspberries. I'llbring a pat of butter and some milk from the dairy, where it's all coolfor you. " "Raspberries!" cried Hilda. "Oh, how delightful! Why, the dew is stillon them, Nurse Lucy! And how pretty they look, with the cool greenleaves round them!" "Ay!" said the good woman, "Jacob brought them in not ten minutes ago. He thought you would like them fresh from the bushes. " Hilda's cheek rivalled the raspberries in bloom as she bent over them toinhale their fragrance. The farmer had picked these himself forher, --had probably left his work to do so; and she had called him anodious old savage, and an unkempt monster, and--oh dear! decidedly, theold Hilda was a very disagreeable girl. But here were the eggs, eachblushing behind its veil of white, and here was the milk, and a littlefirm nugget in a green leaf, which was too beautiful to be butter, andyet too good to be anything else. And the new Hilda might eat herbreakfast with a thankful heart, and did so. The white rose nodded toher from the west window much more cordially than it had done the nightbefore. It even brought out a little new bud to take a peep at the girlwho now smiled, instead of scowling across the room. The vines rustledand shook, and two bright black eyes peeped between the leaves. "Tweet!" said the robin, ruffling his scarlet waistcoat a little. "Whenyou have quite finished your worms, you may come out, and I will showyou the garden. There are cherries!" and away he flew, while Hildalaughed and clapped her hands, for she had understood every word. "May I go out into the garden?" she asked, when she had finished herbreakfast and taken her first lesson in dish-washing, in spite of DameHartley's protest. "And isn't there something I can do there, please? Iwant to work; I don't want to be idle any longer. " "Well, honey, " replied the dame, "there are currants to pick, if youlike such work as that. I am going to make jelly to-morrow; and if youlike to begin the picking, I will come and help you when my bread is outof the oven. " Gladly Hilda flew up to her room for the broad-leaved hat with thedaisy-wreath; and then, taking the wide, shallow basket which DameHartley handed her, she fairly danced out of the door, over the bit ofgreen, and into the garden. Ah! the sweet, heartsome country garden that this was, --the very thoughtof it is a rest and a pleasure. Straight down the middle ran a littlegravel path, with a border of fragrant clove-pinks on either side, planted so close together that one saw only the masses of pale pinkblossoms resting on their bed of slender silvery leaves. And over theborder! Oh the wealth of flowers, the blaze of crimson and purple andgold, the bells that swung, the spires that sprang heavenward, theclusters that nodded and whispered together in the morning breeze! Herewere ranks upon ranks of silver lilies, drawn up in military fashion, and marshalled by clumps of splendid tiger-lilies, --the drum-majors ofthe flower-garden. Here were roses of every sort, blushing and paling, glowing in gold and mantling in crimson. And the carnations showed theirdelicate fringes, and the geraniums blazed, and the heliotropelanguished, and the "Puritan pansies" lifted their sweet faces andlooked gravely about, as if reproving the other flowers for theirfrivolity; while shy Mignonette, thinking herself well hidden behind hergreen leaves, still made her presence known by the exquisite perfumewhich all her gay sisters would have been glad to borrow. Over all went the sunbeams, rollicking and playing; and through all wentHildegarde, her heart filled with a new delight, feeling as if she hadnever lived before. She talked to the flowers. She bent and kissed thedamask rose, which was too beautiful to pluck. She put her cheek againsta lily's satin-silver petals, and started when an angry bee flew out andbuzzed against her nose. But where were the currant-bushes? Ah! therethey were, --a row of stout green bushes, forming a hedge at the bottomof the garden. Hilda fell busily to work, filling her basket with the fine, ruddyclusters. "How beautiful they are!" she thought, holding up a bunch sothat the sunlight shone through it. "And these pale, pinky golden ones, which show all the delicate veins inside. Really, I _must_ eat this fatbunch; they are like fairy grapes! The butler fay comes and picks acluster every evening, and carries it on a lily-leaf platter to thequeen as she sits supping on honey-cakes and dew under the damaskrose-bush. " While fingers and fancy were thus busily employed, Hilda was startled bythe sound of a voice which seemed to come from beyond thecurrant-bushes, very near her. She stood quite still and listened. "A-g, ag, " said the voice; "g-l-o-m, glom, --agglom; e-r er, --agglomer;a-t-e, ate, --agglomerate. " There was a pause, and then it began again:"A-g, ag; g-l-o-m, glom, " etc. Hilda's curiosity was now thoroughly aroused; and laying down herbasket, she cautiously parted the leaves and peeped through. She hardlyknew what she expected to see. What she did see was a boy about tenyears old, in a flannel shirt and a pair of ragged breeches, busilyweeding a row of carrots; for this was the vegetable garden, which laybehind the currant-bushes. On one side of the boy was a huge heap ofweeds; on the other lay a tattered book, at which he glanced from timeto time, though without leaving his work. "A-n, an, " he was now saying;"t-i, ti, --anti; c-i-p, cip, --anticip; a-t-e, ate, --anti_cip_ate. 'Toexpect. ' Well! that _is_ a good un. Why can't they _say_ expect, 'steado' breakin' their jawsen with a word like that? Anti_cip_-ate! Well, Iswan! I hope he enjoyed eatin' it. Sh'd think 't'd ha giv' him thedyspepsy, anyhow. " At this Hilda could contain herself no longer, but burst into a merrypeal of laughter; and as the boy started up with staring eyes and openmouth, she pushed the bushes aside and came towards him. "I am sorry Ilaughed, " she said, not unkindly. "You said that so funnily, I couldn'thelp it. You did not pronounce the word quite right, either. It isan_ti_cipate, not antic_ip_-ate. " [Illustration: "SHE PUSHED THE BUSHES ASIDE AND CAME TOWARDS HIM"] The boy looked half bewildered and half grateful. "An_ti_cipate!" herepeated, slowly. "Thanky, miss! it's a onreasonable sort o' word, 'pears ter me. " And he bent over his carrots again. But Hilda did not return to her currant-picking. She was interested inthis freckled, tow-headed boy, wrestling with four-syllabled words whilehe worked. "Why do you study your lesson out here?" she asked, sitting down on aconvenient stump, and refreshing herself with another bunch of whitecurrants. "Couldn't you learn it better indoors?" "Dunno!" replied the boy. "Ain't got no time ter stay indoors. " "You might learn it in the evening!" suggested Hilda. "I can't keep awake evenin's, " said the boy, simply. "Hev to be up atfour o'clock to let the cows out, an' I git sleepy, come night. An' Ilike it here too, " he added. "I can l'arn 'em easier, weedin'; take tenweeds to a word. " "Ten weeds to a word?" repeated Hilda. "I don't understand you. " "Why, " said the boy, looking up at her with wide-open blue eyes, "I takea good stiff word (I like 'em stiff, like that an--an_ti_cipate feller), and I says it over and over while I pull up ten weeds, --big weeds, o'course, pusley and sich. I don't count chickweed. By the time the weedsis up, I know the word, I've larned fifteen this spell!" and he glancedproudly at his tattered spelling-book as he tugged away at a mammothroot of pusley, which stretched its ugly, sprawling length of fleshyarms on every side. Hilda watched him for some moments, many new thoughts revolving in herhead. How many country boys were there who taught themselves in thisway? How many, among the clever girls at Mademoiselle Haut-ton'sschool, had this sort of ambition to learn, of pride in learning? Hadshe, the best scholar in her class, had it? She had always known herlessons, because they were easy for her to learn, because she had aquick eye and ear, and a good memory. She could not help learning, Mademoiselle said. But this, --this was something different! "What is your name?" she asked, with a new interest. "Bubble Chirk, " replied the freckled boy, with one eye on his book, andthe other measuring a tall spire of pigweed, towards which he stretchedhis hand. "WHAT!" cried Hilda, in amazement. "Bubble Chirk!" said the boy. "Kin' o' curus name, ain't it? The hull ofit's Zerubbabel Chirk; but most folks ain't got time to say all that. Ittrips you up, too, sort o'. Bubble's what they call me; 'nless it'sBub. " The contrast between the boy's earnest and rather pathetic face, andhis absurdly volatile name, was almost too much for Hilda's gravity. Butshe checked the laugh which rose to her lips, and asked: "Don't you goto school at all, Bubble? It is a pity that you shouldn't, when you areso fond of study. " "Gin'lly go for a spell in the winter, " replied Bubble. "They ain't noschool in summer, y' know. Boys hes to work, round here. Mam ain't gotnobody but me 'n Pink, sence father died. " "Who is Pink?" asked Hilda, gently. "My sister, " replied Bubble. "Thet ain't _her_ real name, nuther. Mamhed her christened Pinkrosia, along o' her bein' so fond o' roses, Mamwas; but we don't call her nothin' only Pink. " "Pink Chirk!" repeated Hilda to herself. "What a name! What can a girlbe like who is called Pink Chirk?" But now Bubble seemed to think that it was his turn to ask questions. "Ireckon you're the gal that's come to stay at Mr. Hartley's?" he said inan interrogative tone. Hilda's brow darkened for a moment at the word "gal, " which came withinnocent frankness from the lips of the ragged urchin before her. Butthe next moment she remembered that it was only the old Hilda who caredabout such trifles; so she answered pleasantly enough: "Yes, I am staying at Mr. Hartley's. I only came yesterday, but I am tostay some time. " "And what mought _your_ name be?" inquired Master Chirk. "Hildegardis Graham. " It was gently said, in a very different voice fromthat which had answered Farmer Hartley in the same words the nightbefore; but it made a startling impression on Bubble Chirk. "Hildy--" he began; and then, giving it up, he said simply: "Well, Iswan! Do ye kerry all that round with ye all the time?" Hilda laughed outright at this. "Oh, no!" she said; "I am called Hilda generally. " "But you kin spell the hull of it?" asked the boy anxiously. "Yes, certainly!" Bubble's eager look subsided into one of mingled aweand admiration. "Reckon ye must know a heap, " he said, rather wistfully. "Wish't I did!" Hilda looked at him for a moment without speaking. Her old self waswhispering to her. "Take care what you do!" it said. "This is a coarse, common, dirty boy. He smells of the stable; his hair is full of hay; hishands are beyond description. What have you in common with such acreature? He has not even the sense to know that he is your inferior. ""I don't care!" said the new Hilda. "I know what mamma would do if shewere here, and I shall do it, --or try to do it, at least. Hold yourtongue, you supercilious minx!" "Bubble, " she said aloud, "would you like me to teach you a little, while I am here? I think perhaps I could help you with your lessons. " The boy looked up with a sudden flash in his blue eyes, while his facegrew crimson with pleasure. "Would I like it?" he cried eagerly. But the next moment the glow faded, and he looked awkwardly down at his ragged book and still more raggedclothes. "Guess I ain't no time to l'arn that way, " he muttered inconfusion. "Nonsense!" said Hilda, decidedly. "There must be _some_ hour in the daywhen you can be spared. I shall speak to Farmer Hartley about it. Don'tlook at your clothes, you foolish boy, " she continued, with a touch ofQueen Hildegardis' quality, yet with a kindly intonation which was newto that potentate. "I am not going to teach your clothes. _You_ are notyour clothes!" cried Her Majesty, wondering at herself, and a littleflushed with her recent victory over the "minx. " The boy's facebrightened again. "That's so!" he said, joyously; "that's what Pink says. But I didn'ts'pose _you'd_ think so, " he added, glancing bashfully at the delicate, high-bred face, with its flashing eyes and imperial air. "I _do_ think so!" said Hilda. "So that is settled, and we will have ourfirst lesson to-morrow. What would you--" "Hilda! Hilda! where are you, dear?" called Dame Hartley's voice fromthe other side of the currant-bush-hedge. And catching up her basket, and bidding a hasty good-by to her new acquaintance and future scholar, Hildegarde darted back through the bushes. Zerubbabel Chirk looked after her a few moments, with kindling eyes andopen mouth of wonder and admiration. "Wall!" he said finally, after a pause of silent meditation, "I swan! Ireelly do! I swan to man!" and fell to weeding again as if his lifedepended on it. CHAPTER V. THE BLUE PLATTER. "Merry it is in the green forést, Among the leavés green!" Thus sang Hildegarde as she sat in the west window, busily stringing hercurrants. She had been thinking a great deal about Bubble Chirk, makingplans for his education, and wondering what his sister Pink was like. Hereminded her, she could not tell why, of the "lytel boy" who kept fairAlyce's swine, in her favorite ballad of "Adam Bell, Clym o' the Clough, and William of Cloudeslee;" and the words of the ballad rose halfunconsciously to her lips as she bent over the great yellow bowl, heapedwith scarlet and pale-gold clusters. "Merry it is in the green forést, Among the leavés green, Whenas men hunt east and west With bows and arrowés keen, "For to raise the deer out of their denne, -- Such sights have oft been seen; As by three yemen of the north countree: By them it is, I mean. "The one of them hight Adam Bell, The other Clym o' the Clough; The third was Willyam of Cloudeslee, -- An archer good enough. "They were outlawed for venison, These yemen every one. They swore them brethren on a day To English wood for to gone. "Now lythe and listen, gentylmen, That of myrthes loveth to hear!" At this moment the door opened, and Farmer Hartley entered, taking offhis battered straw hat as he did so, and wiping his forehead with a redbandanna handkerchief. Hilda looked up with a pleasant smile, meaning tothank him for the raspberries which he had gathered for her breakfast;but to her utter astonishment the moment his eyes fell upon her he gavea violent start and turned very pale; then, muttering something underhis breath, he turned hastily and left the room. "Oh! what is the matter?" cried Hilda, jumping up from her chair. "Whathave I done, Nurse Lucy? I have made the farmer angry, somehow. Is thishis chair? I thought--" "No, no, honey dear!" said Nurse Lucy soothingly. "Sit ye down; sit yedown! You have done nothing. I'm right glad of it, " she added, with atone of sadness in her pleasant voice. "Seeing as 'tis all in God'swisdom, Jacob must come to see it so; and 'tis no help, but a deal ofhindrance, when folks set aside chairs and the like, and see only themthat's gone sitting in them. " Then, seeing Hilda's look of bewilderment, she added, laying her hand gently on the girl's soft hair: "You see, dear, we had a daughter of our own this time last year. Our only one shewas, and just about your age, --the light of our eyes, our Faith. Shewas a good girl, strong and loving and heartsome, and almost as prettyas yourself, Hilda dear; but the Father had need of her, so she wastaken from us for a while. It was cruel hard for Jacob; cruel, cruelhard. He can't seem to see, even now, that it was right, or it wouldn'thave been so. And so I can tell just what he felt, coming in just now, sudden like, and seeing you sitting in Faith's chair. Like as not heforgot it all for a minute, and thought it was herself. She had a bluedress that he always liked, and she'd sit here and sing, and the suncoming in on her through her own window there, as she always called it:like a pretty picture she was, our Faith. " "Oh!" cried Hilda, taking the brown, motherly hand in both of hers, "Iam so very, very sorry, dear Nurse Lucy! I did not know! I will neversit here again. I thought--" But she was ashamed to say what she had thought, --that this chair andtable had been set for her to tempt her to sit down "in a kitchen!" Shecould hear herself say it as she had said it last night, with a world ofscornful emphasis. How long it seemed since last night; how much oldershe had grown! And yet--and yet somehow she felt a great deal younger. All this passed through her mind in a moment; but Nurse Lucy was pettingher, and saying: "Nay, dearie; nay, child! This is just where I want youto sit. 'Twill be a real help to Farmer, once he is used to it. Hark! Ihear him coming now. Sit still! To please me, my dear, sit still whereye are. " [Illustration: "SHE BENT IN REAL DISTRESS OVER THE CURRANTS. "] Hilda obeyed, though her heart beat painfully; and she bent in realdistress over the currants as Farmer Hartley once more entered the room. She hardly knew what she feared or expected; but her relief was greatwhen he bade her a quiet but cheerful "Good-day!" and crossing theroom, sat down in his great leather arm-chair. "Dinner'll be ready in five minutes, Jacob!" said the good dame, cheerily; "I've only to lay the table and dish the mutton. " "Oh! let me help, " cried Hilda, springing up and setting her bowl ofcurrants on the window-sill. So between the two the snowy cloth was laid, and the blue plates and theshining knives and forks laid out. Then they all sat down, and thelittle maid-servant came too, and took her place at the end of thetable; and presently in came a great loutish-looking fellow, about oneor two and twenty, with a great shock of sandy hair and littleferret-eyes set too near together, whom Dame Hartley introduced as hernephew. He sat down too, and ate more than all the rest of them puttogether. At sight of this man, who gobbled his food noisily, anduttered loud snorts between the mouthfuls, the old Hilda awoke in fullforce. She could _not_ endure this; mamma never could have intended it!The Hartleys were different, of course. She was willing to acknowledgethat she had been in the wrong about them; but this lout, this oaf, thisvillainous-looking churl, --to expect a lady to sit at the same tablewith him: it was too much! She would ask if she might not dine in herown room after this, as apparently it was only at dinner that this"creature" made his appearance. Farmer Hartley had been very silent since he came in, but now he seemedto feel that he must make an effort to be sociable, so he said kindly, though gravely, -- "I see ye're lookin' at that old dish, Huldy. 'Tis a curus old piece, 'n' that's a fact. Kin ye read the motter on it?" Hilda had not been _looking_ at the dish, though her eyes had beenunconsciously fixed upon it, and she now bent forward to examine it. Itwas an oblong platter, of old blue and white crockery. In the middle(which was now visible, as the "creature" had just transferred the lastpotato to his own plate, stabbing it with his knife for that purpose)was a quaint representation of a mournful-looking couple, clad insingularly ill-fitting aprons of fig-leaves. The man was digging with aspade, while the woman sat at a spinning-wheel placed dangerously nearthe edge of the deep ditch which her husband had already dug. Round theedge ran an inscription, which, after some study, Hilda made out to bethe old distich: "When Adam delved, and Eve span, Where was then the gentleman?" Hilda burst out laughing in spite of her self. "Oh, it is wonderful!" she cried. "Who ever heard of Eve with aspinning-wheel? Where did this come from, Farmer Hartley? I am sure itmust have a history. " "Wa-al, " said the farmer, smiling, "I d'no ez 't' hes so to speak ahist'ry, an' yit there's allays somethin' amoosin' to me about thatplatter. My father was a sea-farin' man most o' his life, an' only cameto the farm late in life, 'count of his older brother dyin', as ownedit. Well, he'd picked up a sight o' queer things in his voyages, fatherhad; he kep' some of 'em stowed away in boxes, and brought 'em out fromtime to time, ez he happened to think of 'em. Wa-al, we young uns growedup (four of us there was, all boys, and likely boys too, if I do sayit), and my brother Simon, who was nex' to me, he went to college. Hewas a clever chap, Simon was, an' nothin' would do for _him_ but he mustbe a gentleman. "'Jacob kin stick to the farm an' the mill; if he likes, ' says he, 'an'Tom kin go to sea, an' William kin be a minister, --'t's all he's goodfer, I reckon; but _I'm_ goin' ter be a _gentleman_!' says Simon. Hesaid it in father's hearin' one day, an' father lay back in his cheeran' laughed; he was allays laughin', father was. An' then he went offupstairs, an' we heard him rummagin' about among his boxes up in theloft-chamber. We dassn't none of us tech them boxes, we boys, though wewarn't afeard of nothin' else in the world, only father. Presently hecomes down again, still a-laughin', an' kerryin' that platter in hishand. He sets it down afore Simon, an' says he, 'Wealthy, ' says he (thatwas my mother), 'Wealthy, ' says he, 'let Simon have his victuals off o'this platter every day, d'ye hear? The' ain't none other that's goodenough for him!' an' then he laughed again, till he fairly shook, an'Simon looked black as thunder, an' took his hat an' went out. An' soafter Simon went to college, every time he come home for vacation andset down to table with his nose kind o' turned up, like he was too goodto set with his own kith and kin, father 'ud go an git the old blueplatter and set it afore him, an' say, 'Here's _your_ dish, Simon; beendiggin' any lately, my son?' and then lay back in his cheer and laugh. " "And did Simon become--a--a gentleman?" asked Hilda, taking her ownlittle lesson very meekly, in her desire to know more. Farmer Hartley's brow clouded instantly, and the smile vanished from hislips. "Poor Simon!" he said, sadly. "He might ha' been anythin' heliked, if he'd lived and--been fortunate. " "Simon Hartley is dead, Hilda dear, " interposed Dame Hartley, gently;"he died some years ago. Will you have some of your own currants, mydear?--Hilda has been helping me a great deal, Father, " she added, addressing her husband. "I don't know how I should have got all mycurrants picked without her help. " "Has she so?" exclaimed the farmer, fixing his keen gray eyes on thegirl. "Waal! waal! to think o' that! Why, we sh'll hev her milkin' thatcow soon, after all; hey, Huldy?" Hildegarde looked up bravely, with a little smile. "I will try, " shesaid, cheerfully, "if you will risk the milk, Farmer Hartley. " The old farmer returned her smile with one so bright and kind and genialthat somehow the ice bent, then cracked, and then broke. The old Hildashrank into so small a space that there was really very little left ofher, and the new Hilda rose from table feeling that she had gained a newfriend. So it came to pass that about an hour later our heroine was walkingbeside the farmer on the way to the barnyard, talking merrily, andswinging the basket which she was going to fill with eggs. "But howshall I find them, " she asked, "if the hens hide them away socarefully?" "Oh, you'll hear 'em scrattlin' round!" replied the farmer. "They'regret fools, hens are, --greter than folks, as a rule; an' that is sayin'a good deal. " They crossed the great sunny barn-yard, and paused at the barn-door, while Hilda looked in with delight. A broad floor, big enough for aballroom, with towering walls of fragrant hay on either side reachingup to the rafters; great doors open at the farther end, showing a snatchof blue, radiant sky, and a lovely wood-road winding away into deepthickets of birch and linden; dusty, golden, cobwebby sunbeams slantingdown through the little windows, and touching the tossed hay-piles intogold; and in the middle, hanging by iron chains from the great centralbeam, a swing, almost big enough for a giant, --such was the barn atHartley Farm; as pleasant a place, Hilda thought, as she had ever seen. "Waal, Huldy, I'll leave ye heer, " said the farmer; "ye kin find yer wayhome, I reckon. " "Oh, yes, indeed!" said Hilda. "But stop one moment, please, FarmerHartley. I want to know--will you please--may I teach Bubble Chirk alittle?" The farmer gave a low whistle of surprise; but Hilda went oneagerly: "I found him studying, this morning, while he was weeding thegarden, --oh! studying so hard, and yet not neglecting his work for aminute. He seems a very bright boy, and it is a pity he should not havea good education. Could you spare him, do you think, for an hour everyday?" She stopped, while the farmer looked at her with a merry twinklein his eye. "You teach Bubble Chirk!" he said. "Why, what would your fine friendssay to that, Miss Huldy? Bubble ain't nothin' but a common farm-boy, ifhe _is_ bright; an' I ain't denyin' that he is. " "I don't know what they would say, " said Hildegarde, blushing hotly, "and I don't care, either! I know what mamma would do in my place; andso do you, Farmer Hartley!" she added, with a little touch ofindignation. "Waal, I reckon I do!" said Farmer Hartley. "And I know who looks likeher mother, this minute, though I never thought she would. Yes!" hesaid, more seriously, "you shall teach Bubble Chirk, my gal; and it's mybelief 'twill bring you a blessin' as well as him. Ye are yer mother'sdarter, after all. Shall I give ye a swing now, before I go; or are yetoo big to swing!" "I--don't--know!" said Hildegarde, eying the swing wistfully. "Am I toobig, I wonder?" "Yer ma warn't, when she was here three weeks ago!" said the farmer. "Shejust sot heer and took a good solid swing, for the sake of old times, she said. " "Then I will take one for the sake of new times!" cried Hilda, runningto the swing and seating herself on its broad, roomy seat. "For the sakeof this new time, which I know is going to be a happy one, give me three_good_ pushes, please, Farmer Hartley, and then I can take care ofmyself. " One! two! three! up goes Queen Hildegarde, up and up, among the dusty, cobwebby sunbeams, which settle like a crown upon her fair head. Downwith a rush, through the sweet, hay-scented air; then up again, startling the swallows from under the eaves, and making the staid andconservative old hens frantic with anxiety. Up and down, in broad, freesweeps, growing slower now, as the farmer left her and went to his work. How perfect it was! Did the world hold anything else so delightful asswinging in a barn? She began to sing, for pure joy, a little song thather mother had made for her when she was a little child, and used toswing in the garden at home. And Farmer Hartley, with his hand on thebrown heifer's back, paused with a smile and a sigh as he heard thegirl's sweet fresh voice ring out gladly from the old barn. This was thesong she sang:-- If I were a fairy king (Swinging high, swinging low), I would give to you a ring (Swinging, oh!) With a diamond set so bright That the shining of its light Should make morning of the night (Swinging high, swinging low)-- Should make morning of the night (Swinging, oh!). On each ringlet as it fell (Swinging high, swinging low) I would tie a golden bell (Swinging, oh!); And the golden bells would chime In a little merry rhyme, In the merry morning time (Swinging high, swinging low)-- In the happy morning time (Swinging, oh!). You should wear a satin gown (Swinging high, swinging low), All with ribbons falling down (Swinging, oh!). And your little twinkling feet, O my Pretty and my Sweet! Should be shod with silver neat (Swinging high, swinging low)-- Shod with silver slippers neat (Swinging, oh!). But I'm not a fairy, Pet (Swinging high, swinging low), Am not even a king, as yet (Swinging, oh!). So all that I can do Is to kiss your little shoe, And to make a queen of you (Swinging high, swinging low), Make a fairy queen of you (Swinging, oh!). CHAPTER VI. HARTLEY'S GLEN. How many girls, among all the girls who may read this little book, haveseen with their own eyes Hartley's Glen? Not one, perhaps, save Brynhildand the Rosicrucian, for whom the book is written. But the others musttry to see it with my eyes, for it is a fair place and a sweet as any onearth. Behind the house, and just under the brow of the little hill thatshelters it, a narrow path dips down to the right, and goes along for abit, with a dimpled clover-meadow on the one hand, and a stone wall, allwarm with golden and red-brown lichens, on the other. Follow this, andyou come to a little gateway, beyond which is a thick plantation oflarches, with one grim old red cedar keeping watch over them. If heregards you favorably, you may pass on, down the narrow path that windsamong the larches, whose feathery finger-tips brush your cheek and tryto hold you back, as if they willed not that you should go farther, tosee the wonders which they can never behold. But you leave them behind, and come out into the sunshine, in a littlegreen glade which might be the ballroom of the fairy queen. On yourright, gleaming through clumps of alder and black birch, is a pond, --thehome of cardinal flowers and gleaming jewel-weed; a little farther on, athicket of birch and maple, from which comes a musical sound of fallingwater. Follow this sound, keeping to the path, which winds away to theleft. Stop! now you may step aside for a moment, and part the heavyhanging branches, and look, where the water falls over a high blackwall, into a sombre pool, shut in by fantastic rocks, and shaded fromall sunshine by a dense fringe of trees. This is the milldam, and thepond above is no natural one, but the enforced repose and outspreadingof a merry brown brook, which now shows its true nature, and escapingfrom the gloomy pool, runs scolding and foaming down through awilderness of rocks and trees. You cannot follow it there, --though Ihave often done so in my barefoot days, --so come back to the path again. There are pines overhead now, and the ground is slippery with the fallenneedles, and the air is sweet--ah! how sweet!--with their warmfragrance. See! here is the old mill itself, now disused and falling todecay. Here the path becomes a little precipice, and you must scrambleas best you can down two or three rough steps, and round the corner ofthe ruined mill. This is a millstone, this great round thing like agranite cheese, half buried in the ground; and here is another, whichmakes a comfortable seat, if you are tired. But there is a fairer resting-place beyond. Round this one more corner, now, and down, --carefully, carefully!--down this long stairway, formedof rough slabs of stone laid one below the other. Shut your eyes now fora moment, and let me lead you forward by the hand. And now--now open theeyes wide, wide, and look about you. In front, and under the windows ofthe old mill, the water comes foaming and rushing down over a rocky fallsome sixty feet high, and leaps merrily into a second pool. No sombre, black gulf this, like the one above, but a lovely open circle, half inbroad sunshine, half dappled with the fairy shadows of the boughs andferns that bend lovingly over it. So the little brook is no longerangry, but mingles lovingly with the deep water of the pool, and thenruns laughing and singing along the glen on its way down to the sea. Onone side of this glen the bank rises abruptly some eighty feet, itssides clothed with sturdy birches which cling as best they may to therocky steep. On the other stretches the little valley, a narrow strip ofland, but with turf as fine as the Queen's lawn, and trees that wouldproudly grace Her Majesty's park, --tall Norway firs, raising theirstately forms and pointing their long dark fingers sternly at theintruders on their solitude; graceful birches; and here and there awhispering larch or a nodding pine. The other wall of the valley, orglen, is less precipitous, and its sides are densely wooded, and fringedwith barberry bushes and climbing eglantine. And between these two banks, and over this green velvet carpet, andamong these dark fir-trees, --ah! how the sun shines. Nowhere else in thewhole land does he shine so sweetly, for he knows that his time there isshort, and that the high banks will shut him out from that green, pleasant place long before he must say good-night to the morecommon-place fields and hill-sides. So here his beams rest rightlovingly, making royal show of gold on the smooth grass, and of diamondson the running water, and of opals and topazes and beryls where thewave comes curling over the little fall. And now, amid all this pomp and play of sun and of summer, what is thisdash of blue that makes a strange, though not a discordant, note in ourharmony of gold and green? And what is that round, whitish object whichis bobbing up and down with such singular energy? Why, the blue isHildegarde's dress, if you must know; and the whitish object is the headof Zerubbabel Chirk, scholar and devotee; and the energy with which saidhead is bobbing is the energy of determination and of study. Hilda andBubble have made themselves extremely comfortable under the greatash-tree which stands in the centre of the glen. The teacher has curledherself up against the roots of the tree, and has a piece of work in herhands; but her eyes are wandering dreamily over the lovely scene beforeher, and she looks as if she were really too comfortable to move even afinger. The scholar lies at her feet, face downwards, his chinpropped on his hands, his head bobbing up and down. The silence is onlybroken by the noise of the waterfall and the persistent chirping of somevery cheerful little bird. Presently the boy raised his head and cried joyfully, "I've fetched him, Miss Hildy! I know it, now, jest like pie!" Whereupon he stood up, andassuming a military attitude, submitted to a severe geographicalcatechising, and came off with flying colors. "That was a very good recitation, " said Hilda, approvingly, as she laidthe book down. "You shall have another ballad to-day as a reward. But, Bubble, " she added, rather seriously, "I do wish you would not use somuch slang. It is so senseless! Now what did you mean by saying 'justlike pie, ' in speaking of your lesson just now?" "Oh! come now, Miss Hildy!" said Bubble, bashfully, "the' ain't no usein your tellin' me you don't know what pie is. " "Of course I know what pie is, you silly boy!" said Hilda, laughing. "But what has pie to do with your geography lesson?" "That's so!" murmured the boy, apologetically. "That's a fact, ain't it!I won't say 'like pie' no more; I'll say 'like blazes, ' instead. " "You needn't say 'like' anything!" cried Hilda, laughing again; "justsay, I know my lesson 'well, ' or 'thoroughly. ' There are plenty of_real_ words, Bubble, that have as much meaning as the slang ones, andoften a great deal more. " "That's so, " said Bubble, with an air of deep conviction. "I'll try notto talk no more slang, Miss Hildy. I will, I swan!" "But, Bubble, you must not say 'I swan' either; that is _abominable_slang. " Bubble looked very blank. "Why, what _shall_ I say?" he asked, simply. "Pink won't let me say 'I swow, ' 'cause it's vulgar; an' if I say 'by'anything, Ma says it's swearin', --an' I can't swear, nohow!" "Of course not, " said Hilda. "But why _must_ you say anything, Bubble, --anything of that sort, I mean?" "Oh!" said the boy, "I d' 'no 's I kin say ezackly _why_, Miss Hildy;but--but--wal, I swan! I mean, I--I don't mean I swan--but--there now!You see how 'tis, Miss Hildy. Things don't seem to hev no taste to 'em, without you say _somethin'_. " "Let me think, " said Hilda. "Perhaps I can think of something that willsound better. " "I might say, 'Gee Whittekers!'" suggested Bubble, brightening up alittle. "I know some fellers as says that. " "I don't think that would do, " replied Hilda, decidedly. "What does itmean?" "Don't mean nothing as I knows on, " said the boy; "but it sounds kind o'hahnsome, don't it?" Hilda shook her head with a smile. She did not think "Gee Whittekers" a"hahnsome" expression. "Bubble, " she said after a few moments' reflection, during which herscholar watched her anxiously, "I have an idea. If you _must_ say'something, ' beside what you actually have to say, let it be somethingthat will remind you of your lessons; then it may help you to rememberthem. Instead of Gee--what is it?--Gee Whittekers, say Geography, orSpelling, or Arithmetic; and instead of 'I swan, ' say 'I study!' What doyou think of this plan?" "Fustrate!" exclaimed Bubble, nodding his head enthusiastically. "I likefustrate! Ge-_o_graphy! Why, that sounds just like pie! I--I don't meanthat, Miss Hildy. I didn't mean to say it, nohow! It kind o' slippedout, ye know. " Bubble paused, and hung his head in much confusion. "Never mind!" said Hilda, kindly. "Of course you cannot make the changeall at once, Bubble. But little by little, if you really think about it, you will bring it about. Next week, " she added, "I think we must beginupon grammar. You are doing very well indeed in spelling and geography, and pretty well in arithmetic; but your grammar, Bubble, is simplyfrightful. " "Be it?" said Bubble, resignedly. "I want to know!" "And now, " said the young instructress, rising, and shaking out hercrumpled frock, "that is enough for to-day, Bubble. We must be goinghome soon; but first, I want to take a peep at the lower part of the oldmill, that you told me about yesterday. You have been in there, you say?And how did you get in?" "I'll show ye!" cried Bubble, springing up with alacrity, and leadingthe way towards the mill. "I'll show ye the very place, Miss Hildy. 'Tain't easy to get in, and 'tain't no place for a lady, nohow; but Ikin git in, jist like--like 'rithmetic!" "Bravo, Bubble!" said Hilda, laughing merrily. "That is very well for abeginning. How long is it since the mill was used?" she asked, lookingup at the frowning walls of rough, dark stone, covered with moss andlichens. "Farmer Hartley's gran'f'ther was the last miller, " replied BubbleChirk. "My father used to say he could just remember him, standin' atthe mill-door, all white with flour, an' rubbin' his hands and laughin', jes' the way Farmer does. He was a good miller, father said, an' madethe mill pay well. But his eldest son, that kem after him, warn't nogreat shakes, an' he let the mill go to wrack and ruin, an' jes' stayedon the farm. An' then he died, an' Cap'n Hartley came (that's thefarmer's father, ye know), an' he was kind o' crazy, and didn't careabout the mill either, an' so there it stayed. "This way, Miss Hildy!" added the boy, breaking off suddenly, andplunging into the tangled thicket of shrubs and brambles that hid thebase of the mill. "Thar! ye see that hole? That's whar I get in. Waittill I clear away the briers a bit! Thar! now ye kin look in. " The "hole" was a square opening, a couple of feet from the ground, andlarge enough for a person of moderate size to creep through. Hildegardestooped down and looked in. At first she saw nothing but utterblackness; but presently her eyes became accustomed to the place, andthe feeble light which struggled in past her through the opening, revealed strange objects which rose here and there from the vast pit ofdarkness, --fragments of rusty iron, bent and twisted into unearthlyshapes; broken beams, their jagged ends sticking out like stifflypointing fingers; cranks, and bits of hanging chain; and on the sidenext the water, a huge wheel, rising apparently out of the bowels of theearth, since the lower part of it was invisible. A cold, damp air seemedto rise from the earth. Hilda shivered and drew back, looking ratherpale. "What a _dreadful_ place!" she cried. "It looks like a dungeon ofthe Inquisition. I think you were very brave to go in there, Bubble. Iam sure _I_ should not dare to go; it looks so spectral and frightful. " "Hy Peters stumped me to go, " said Bubble, simply, "so o' course I went. Most of the boys dassent. And it ain't bad, after the fust time. They dosay it's haunted; but I ain't never seed nothin'. " "Haunted!" cried Hilda, drawing back still farther from the blackopening. "By--by what, Bubble?" "Cap'n's ghost!" replied the boy. "He used to go rooklin' round in therewhen he was alive, folks say, and some thinks his sperit haunts therenow. " "Oh, nonsense!" said Hildegarde, with a laugh which did not sound quitenatural. "Of course you don't believe any such foolishness as that, Bubble. But what did the old--old gentleman--want there when he wasalive? I can't imagine any one going in there for pleasure. " "Dunno, I'm sure!" replied Bubble. "Father, he come down here one day, after blackberries, when he was a boy. He hearn a noise in there, an'went an' peeked in, an' there was the ol' Cap'n pokin' about with hisbig stick in the dirt. He looked up an' saw father, an' came at him withhis stick up, roarin' like a mad bull, father said. An' he cut an' run, father did, an' he hearn the ol' Cap'n laughin' after him as if he'dhave a fit. Crazy as a loon, I reckon the Cap'n was, though none of hisfolks thought so, Ma says. " He let the wild briers fly back about the gloomy opening, and theystepped back on the smooth greensward again. Ah, how bright and warm thesunshine was, after that horrible black pit! Hilda shivered again at thethought of it, and then laughed at her own cowardice. She turned andgazed at the waterfall, creaming and curling over the rocks, and makingsuch a merry, musical jest of its tumble into the pool. "Oh, lovely, lovely!" she cried, kissing her hand to it. "Bubble, do you know thatHartley's Glen is without exception the most beautiful place in theworld?" "No, miss! Be it really?" asked Zerubbabel, seriously. "I allays thought'twas kind of a sightly gully, but I didn't know't was all that. " "Well, it is, " said Hilda. "It is all that, and more; and I love it! Butnow, Bubble, " she added, "we must make haste, for the farmer will bewanting you, and I have a dozen things to do before tea. " "Yes, miss, " said Bubble, but without his usual alacrity. Hilda saw a look of disappointment in his honest blue eyes, and askedwhat was the matter. "I ain't had my ballid!" said Zerubbabel, sadly. "Why, you poor lad, so you haven't!" said Hildegarde. "But you shallhave it; I will tell it to you as we walk back to the farm. Which onewill you have, --or shall I tell you a new one?" The blue eyes sparkled with the delight of anticipation. "Oh, please!"he cried; "the one about the bold Buckle-oh!" Hilda laughed merrily. "The bauld Buccleugh?" she repeated. "Oh! youmean 'Kinmont Willie. ' Yes, indeed, you shall have that. It is one of myfavorite ballads, and I am glad you like it. " "Oh, I tell yer!" cried Bubble. "When he whangs the table, and says dothey think his helmet's an old woman's bunnit, an' all the rest ofit, --I tell ye that's _some_, Miss Hildy!" "You have the spirit of the verse, Bubble, " said Hilda, laughing softly;"but the words are not _quite_ right. " And she repeated the splendid, ringing words of Buccleugh's indignant outcry: "Oh! is my basnet a widow's curch, Or my lance a wand o' the willow-tree, Or my arm a lady's lily hand, That an English lord should lightly me? "And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, Against the truce of Border tide, And forgotten that the bauld Buccleugh Is warden here o' the Scottish side? "And have they e'en ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, Withouten either dread or fear, And forgotten that the bauld Buccleugh Can back a steed or shake a spear?" Zerubbabel Chirk fairly danced up and down in his excitement "Oh! butbegin again at the beginning, _please_, Miss Hildy, " he cried. So Hilda, nothing loth, began at the beginning; and as they walkedhomeward, recited the whole of the noble old ballad, which if anygirl-reader does not know, she may find it in any collection of Scottishballads. "And the best of it is, Bubble, " said Hilda, "that it is alltrue, --every word of it; or nearly every word. " "I'll bet it is!" cried Bubble, still much excited. "They couldn't makelies sound like that, ye know! You kind o' _know_ it's true, and it goesright through yer, somehow. When did it happen, Miss Hildy?" "Oh! a long time ago, " said Hildegarde; "near the end of the sixteenthcentury. I forget just the very year, but it was in the reign of QueenElizabeth. She was very angry at Buccleugh's breaking into CarlisleCastle, which was an English castle, you see, and carrying off LordScroope's prisoner; and she sent word to King James of Scotland that hemust give up Buccleugh to her to punish as she saw fit. King Jamesrefused at first, for he said that Lord Scroope had been the first tobreak the truce by carrying off Kinmont Willie in time of peace; but atlength he was obliged to yield, for Queen Elizabeth was very powerful, and always would have her own way. So the 'bauld Buccleugh' was sent toLondon and brought before the great, haughty English queen. But he wasjust as haughty as she, and was not a bit afraid of her. She looked downon him from her throne (she was very stately, you know, and she wore acrown, and a great stiff ruff, and her dress was all covered with goldand precious stones), and asked him how he dared to undertake such adesperate and presumptuous enterprise. And Buccleugh--O Bubble, Ialways liked this so much!--Buccleugh just looked her full in the face, and said, 'What is it a man dare not do?' Now Queen Elizabeth likednothing so much as a brave man, and this bold answer pleased her. Sheturned to one of her ministers and said, 'With ten thousand such men ourbrother in Scotland might shake the firmest throne in Europe. ' And soshe let him go, just because he was so brave and so handsome. " Bubble Chirk drew a long breath, and his eyes flashed. "I wish't I'd benalive then!" he said. "Why, Bubble?" asked Hilda, much amused; "what would you have done?" "I'd ha' killed Lord Scroope!" he cried, --"him and the hull kit of 'em. Besides, " he added, "I'd like t' ha' lived then jest ter see_him_, --jest ter see the bold Buckle-oh; that's what _I_ call a man!"And Queen Hildegardis fully agreed with him. They had nearly reached the house when the boy asked: "If that king washer brother, why did she treat him so kind o' ugly? My sister don't actthat way. " "What--oh, you mean Queen Elizabeth!" said Hilda, laughing. "King Jameswas not her brother, Bubble. They were cousins, but nothing more. " "You _said_ she said 'brother, '" persisted the boy. "So I did, " replied Hilda. "You see, it was the fashion, and is still, for kings and queens to _call_ each other brother and sister, whetherthey were really related to each other or not. " "But I thought they was always fightin', " objected Bubble. "I've got ahist'ry book to home, an' in that it says they fit like time wheneverthey got a chance. " "So they did, " said Hilda. "But they called each other 'our royalbrother' and 'our beloved sister;' and they were always paying eachother fine compliments, and saying how much they loved each other, evenin the middle of a war, when they were fighting as hard as they could. " "Humph!" said Bubble, "nice kind o folks they must ha' been. Well, Imust go, Miss Hildy, " he added, reluctantly. "I've had a splendid time, an' I'm _real_ obleeged to ye. I sh'll try to larn that story by heart, 'bout the bold Buckle-oh. I want to tell it to Pink! _She_'d likeit--oh, my! wouldn't she like it, jest like--I mean jest like spellin'!Good by, Miss Hildy!" And Bubble ran off to bring home the cows, hislittle heart swelling high with scorn of kings and queens, and with afervor of devotion to Walter Scott, first lord of Buccleugh. CHAPTER VII. PINK CHIRK. One lovely morning Hildegarde stood at the back door, feeding the fowls. She wore her brown gingham frock with the yellow daisies on it, and thedaisy-wreathed hat, and in her hands she held a great yellow bowl fullof yellow corn. So bright a picture she made that Farmer Hartley, driving the oxen afield, stopped for pure pleasure to look at her. Around her the ducks and hens were fighting and squabbling, quacking, clucking, and gobbling, and she flung the corn in golden showers ontheir heads and backs, making them nearly frantic with greedy anxiety. [Illustration: "SHE FLUNG THE CORN IN GOLDEN SHOWERS ON THEIR HEADS. "] "Wal, Huldy, " said the farmer, leaning against Bright's massive side, "you look pooty slick in that gown, I must say. I reckon thar ain't nosech gown as _that_ on Fifth Avenoo, hey?" "Indeed, I don't believe there is, Farmer Hartley, " replied Hilda, laughing merrily; "at least I never saw one like it. It _is_ pretty, Ithink, and _so_ comfortable! And where are you going this morning withthe mammoths?" "Down to the ten-acre lot, " replied the farmer. "The men are makin' haythar to-day. Jump into the riggin' and come along, " he added. "Ye kinhev a little ride, an' see the hay-makin'. Pooty sight 'tis, to mythinkin'. " "May I?" cried Hilda, eagerly. "I am sure these fowls have had enough. Go away now, you greedy creatures! There, you shall have all there is!"and she emptied the bowl over the astonished dignitaries of thebarn-yard, laid it down on the settle in the porch, and jumped gaylyinto the "rigging, " as the great hay-cart was called. "Haw, Bright! hoish, Star!" said the farmer, touching one and then theother of the great black oxen lightly with his goad. The huge beastsswayed from side to side, and finally succeeded in getting themselvesand the cart in motion, while the farmer walked leisurely beside them, tapping and poking them occasionally, and talking to them in that mysticlanguage which only oxen and their drivers understand. Down the sweetcountry lane they went, with the willows hanging over them, and thedaisies and buttercups and meadow-sweet running riot all over the banks. Hilda stood up in the cart and pulled off twigs from the willows as shepassed under them, and made garlands, which the farmer obediently putover the oxen's necks. She hummed little snatches of song, and chattedgayly with her kind old host; for the world was very fair, and her heartwas full of summer and sunshine. "And have you always lived here, Farmer Hartley?" she asked. "All yourlife, I mean?" "No, not all my life, " replied the farmer, "though pooty nigh it. I wasten year old when my uncle died, and father left sea-farin', and kemhome to the farm to live. Before that we'd lived in different places, movin' round, like. We was at sea a good deal, sailin' with father whenhe went on pleasant voyages, to the West Indies, or sich. But sence thenI ain't ben away much. I don't seem to find no pleasanter place than theold farm, somehow. " "I don't believe there _is_ any pleasanter place in the world!" saidHilda, warmly. "I am sure I have never been so happy anywhere as I havehere. " Farmer Hartley looked up with a twinkle in his eye. "Ye've changed yerviews some, Huldy, hain't ye, sence the fust day ye kem heer? I didn'tnever think, then, as I'd be givin' you rides in the hay-riggin', sech afine young lady as you was. " Hilda gave him an imploring glance, while the blood mounted to hertemples. "Please, Farmer Hartley, " she said in a low voice, "please tryto forget that first day. It isn't my views that have changed, " sheadded, "it is I myself. I don't--I really don't _think_ I am the samegirl who came here a month ago. " "No, my gal, " said the farmer, heartily, "I don't think ye are. " Hewalked along in silence for a few minutes, and then said, "'Tis curushow folks kin sometimes change 'emselves, one way or the other. 'Tain'tso with critturs; 't least so fur's I've obsarved. The way they're born, that way they'll stay. Now look at them oxen! When they was youngsteers, hardly more'n calves, I began to train them critturs. An' fromthe very fust go-off they tuk their cue an' stuck to it. Star, thar, would lay out, and shake his head, an' pull for all he was wuth, as ifthere was nothin' in the world to do _but_ pull; and Bright, he'd waittill Star was drawin' good an' solid, an' then he'd as much as say, 'Oh!you kin pull all that, kin ye? Well, stick to it, my boy, an' I'llmanage to trifle along with the rest o' the load. ' Wo-_hoish_, Star!haw, Bright! git up, ye old humbug! You're six year old now, an' youain't changed a mite in four years, though I've drove you stiddy, andtried to spare the other every time. " The green lane broke off suddenly, and such a blaze of sunlight flashedupon them that Hilda involuntarily raised her hand to shield her eyes. The great meadow lay open before them, an undulating plain of gold. Thehaycocks looked dull and gray-green upon it; but where the men weretossing the hay with their long wooden rakes, it flashed pale-golden inthe sunlight, and filled the air with flying gleams. Also the air wasfilled with the sweetness of the hay, and every breath was a delight. Hilda stood speechless with pleasure, and the old farmer watched herglowing face with kindly gratification. "Pooty sightly, ain't it?" he said. And then, in a graver tone, andremoving his battered straw hat, "I don't never seem to see the gloryof the Lord no plainer than in a hay-field, a day like this. Yes, sir!if a man can't be a Christian on a farm in summer, he can't be itnowhere. Amen!" and Farmer Hartley put on his hat and proceededstraightway to business. "Now, Huldy, " he said, "here ye be! I'm goin'to load up this riggin', an' ye kin stay round here a spell, if ye like, an' run home _when_ ye like. Ye kin find the way, I reckon?" "Oh, yes!" said Hilda; "yes, indeed! But I shall stay here for a while, and watch you. And mayn't I toss the hay too a little?" But her courage failed when she found that to do this she must minglewith the crowd of strange haymakers; and besides, among them she saw theclumsy form and shock head of Caliban, as she had secretly named theclownish and surly nephew of her good host. This fellow was the onebitter drop in Hilda's cup. Everything else she had learned to like, inthe month which had passed since she came to Hartley's Glen. The farmerand his wife she loved as they deserved to be loved. The littlemaidservant was her adoring slave, and secretly sewed her boot-buttonson, and mended her stockings, as some small return for the lessons incrochet and fancy knitting that she had received from the skilful whitefingers which were a perpetual marvel to her. But Simon Hartley remainedwhat she had at first thought him, --a sullen, boorish churl. He was amalevolent churl too, Hildegarde thought; indeed she was sure of it. Shehad several times seen his eyes fixed on his uncle with a look ofpositive hatred; and though Farmer Hartley was persistently kind andpatient with him, trying often to draw him into conversation, and makehim join in the pleasant evening talks which they all enjoyed, hisefforts were unsuccessful. The fellow came in, gobbled his food, andthen went off, if his work was over, to hide himself in his own room. Hilda was quite sure that Nurse Lucy liked this oaf no better than sheherself did, though the good woman never spoke impatiently or unkindlyto him, --and indeed it would be difficult for any one to like him, shethought, except possibly his own mother. Our Queen took presently her seat on a right royal throne of fragranthay, and gave herself up to the full delight of the summer morning, andof the "Field of the Cloth of Gold, " as she had instantly named theshining yellow plain, which more prosaic souls knew as "the ten-acrelot. " The hay rustled pleasantly as she nestled down in it, and made alittle penthouse over her head, to keep off the keen, hot sun-arrows. There was a great oak-tree too, which partly shaded this favoredhaycock, and on one of its branches a squirrel came running out, andthen sat up and looked at Hildegarde with bright, inquisitive eyes. Amaiden, all brown and gold, on a golden haycock! What strange apparitionwas this? Had she come for acorns? Did she know about the four youngones in the snug little house in the hollow just above the first branch!Perhaps--dreadful thought!--she had heard of the marvellous beauty ofthe four young ones, and had come to steal them. "Chip!" whisk! andMadam Squirrel was off up the branch like a streak of brown lightning, with its tail up. Hilda laughed at the squirrel's alarm, and then turned her attention toa large green grasshopper who seemed to demand it. He had alighted onher knee, and now proceeded to exhibit his different points before heradmiring gaze with singular gravity and deliberation. First he slowlyopened his wings, to show the delicate silvery gauze of the under-wings;then as slowly closed them, demonstrating the perfect fit of his wholewing-costume and the harmony of its colors. He next extended one leg, calling her attention to its remarkable length and muscularproportions. Then, lest she should think he had but one, he extendedthe other; and then gave a vigorous hop with both of them, to show herthat he did not really need wings, but could get on perfectly wellwithout them. Finally he rubbed himself all over with his long antennæ, and then, pointing them full at her, and gazing at her with calm anddispassionate eyes, he said plainly enough: "And now, Monster, what have_you_ to show _me_?" Hildegarde was wondering how she could best dispel the scorn with whichthis majestic insect evidently regarded her, when suddenly something newappeared on her gown, --something black, many-legged, hairy, mosthideous; something which ran swiftly but stealthily, with a motion whichsent a thrill of horror through her veins. She started up with a littleshriek, shaking off the unlucky spider as if it had been the Black Deathin concrete. Then she looked round with flaming cheeks, to see if herscream had been heard by the hay-makers. No, they were far away, andtoo busy to take heed of her. But the charm was broken. Queen Hildegardehad plenty of courage of a certain sort, but she could _not_ face aspider. The golden throne had become a "siege perilous, " and sheabdicated in favor of the grasshopper and his black and horrent visitor. What should she do now? The charm of the morning had made her idle anddrowsy, and she did not feel like going home to help Nurse Lucy inmaking the butter, though she often did so with right good-will. Shelooked dreamily around, her eyes wandering here and there over the greatmeadow and the neat stone walls which bounded it. Presently she spiedthe chimneys and part of the red roof of a little cottage which peepedfrom a thick clump of trees just beyond the wall. Who lived in thatcottage, Hilda wondered. Why should she not go and see? She was verythirsty, and there she might get a glass of water. Oh! perhaps it wasBubble's cottage, where he and his mother and his sister Pink lived. Nowshe thought of it, Bubble had told her that he lived "over beyont theten-acre lot;" of course this must be the place. Slowly she walkedacross the meadow and climbed the wall, wondering a good deal about thepeople whom she was going to see. She had often meant to ask Bubble moreabout his sister with the queer name; but the lesson-hour was so short, and there were always so many questions for Bubble to ask and for her toanswer besides the regular lesson, that she always forgot it till toolate. Pink Chirk! what could a girl be like with such a name as that?Hilda fancied her a stout, buxom maiden, with very red cheeks and veryblack eyes--yes, certainly, the eyes must be black! Her hair--well, onecould not be so sure about her hair; but there was no doubt about herwearing a pink dress and a blue checked apron. And she must be smiling, bustling, and energetic. Yes! Hilda had the picture of her complete inher mind. She wondered that this active, stirring girl never came up tothe farm; but of course she must have a great deal of work to do athome. By this time Hildegarde had reached the cottage; and after a moment'shesitation she knocked softly at the green-painted door. No one came toopen the door, but presently she heard a clear, pleasant voice fromwithin saying, "Open the door and come in, please!" Following thisinjunction, she entered the cottage and found herself directly in thesitting-room, and face to face with its occupant. This was a girl of herown age, or perhaps a year older, who sat in a wheeled chair by thewindow. She was very fair, with almost flaxen hair, and frank, pleasantblue eyes. She was very pale, very thin; the hands that lay on her lapwere almost transparent; but--she wore a pink calico dress and a bluechecked apron. Who could this be? and whoever it was, why did she sitstill when a visitor and a stranger came in? The pale girl made noattempt to rise, but she met Hilda's look of surprise and inquiry with asmile which broke like sunshine over her face, making it for the momentpositively beautiful. "How do you do?" she said, holding out her thinhand. "I am sure you must be Miss Hilda Graham, and I am Bubble's sisterPink. [Illustration: "THE PALE GIRL MADE NO ATTEMPT TO RISE. "] "Please sit down, " she added. "I am so _very_ glad to see you. I havewanted again and again to thank you for all your kindness to my Bubble, but I didn't know when I should have a chance. Did Bubble show you theway?" Hildegarde was so astonished, so troubled, so dismayed that she hardlyknew what she was saying or doing. She took the slender fingers in herown for an instant, and then sat down, saying hastily: "Oh, no! I--Ifound my way alone. I was not sure of its being your cottage, though Ithought it must be from what Bubble told me. " She paused; and then, unable to keep back longer the words which sprang to her lips, she said:"I fear you have been ill, you are so pale. I hope it has not beenserious. Bubble did not tell me--" Pink Chirk looked up with her bright, sweet smile. "Oh, no! I have notbeen ill, " she said. "I am always like this. I cannot walk, you know, but I am very well indeed. " "You cannot walk?" stammered Hilda. The girl saw her look of horror, and a faint color stole into her wancheek. "Did not Bubble tell you?" she asked, gently; and then, as Hildashook her head, "It is such a matter of course to him, " she said; "henever thinks about it, I suppose, dear little fellow. I was run overwhen I was three years old, and I have never been able to walk since. " Hildegarde could not speak. The thought of anything so dreadful, sooverwhelming as this, coming so suddenly, too, upon her, seemed to takeaway her usually ready speech, and she was dumb, gazing at the cheerfulface before her with wide eyes of pity and wonderment. But Pink Chirkdid not like to be pitied, as a rule; and she almost laughed at hervisitor's horror-stricken face. "You mustn't look so!" she cried. "It's very kind of you to be sorry, but it isn't as if I were really _ill_, you know. I can _almost_ standon one foot, --that is, I can bear enough weight on it to get from my bedto my chair without help. That is a _great_ thing! And then when I amonce in my chair, why I can go almost anywhere. Farmer Hartley gave methis chair, " she added, looking down at it, and patting the armtenderly, as if it were a living friend; "isn't it a beauty?" It was a pretty chair, made of cherry wood, with cushions ofgay-flowered chintz; and Hilda, finding her voice again, praised itwarmly. "This is its summer dress, " said Pink, her eyes sparkling withpleasure. "Underneath, the cushions are covered with soft crimson cloth, oh, so pretty, and so warm-looking! I am always glad when it's time totake the chintz covers off. And yet I am always glad to put them onagain, " she added, "for the chintz is pretty too, I think: and besides, I know then that summer is really come. " "You like summer best?" asked Hilda. "Oh, yes!" she replied. "In winter, of course, I can't go out; andsometimes it seems a little long, when Bubble is away all day, --notvery, you know, but just a little. But in summer, oh, then I am sohappy! I can go all round the place by myself, and sit out in thegarden, and feed the chickens, and take care of the flowers. And then onSunday Bubble always gives me a good ride along the road. My chair movesvery easily, --only see!" She gave a little push, and propelled herselfhalf way across the little room. At this moment the inner door opened, and Mrs. Chirk appeared, --aslender, anxious-looking woman, with hair prematurely gray. She greetedHilda with nervous cordiality, and thanked her earnestly for herkindness to Zerubbabel. "He ain't the same boy, Miss Graham, " she said, "sence you begun givin' him lessons. He used to fret and worrit 'causethere warn't no school, and he couldn't ha' gone to it if there was. Pinkrosia learned him what she could; but we hain't many books, you see. But now! why that boy comes into the house singin' and spoutin' poetryat the top of his lungs, --jest as happy as a kitten with a spool. Whatwas that he was shoutin' this mornin', Pinkrosia, when he scairt the oldblack hen nigh to death?" "'Charge for the golden lilies! Upon them with the lance!'" murmuredPink, with a smile. "Yes, that was it!" said Mrs. Chirk. "He was lookin' out of the windowand pumpin' at the same time, an' spoutin' them verses too. And all of asudden he cries out, 'Ther's the brood of dark My Hen, scratchin' up thesweet peas. Upon them with the lance!' And he lets go the pump-handle, and it flies up and hits the shelf and knocks off two plates and a cup, and Bubble, he's off with the mop-handle, chasin' the old black hen andmakin' believe run her through, till she e'enamost died of fright. Well, there, it give me a turn; it reelly did!" She paused rather sadly, seeing that her hearers were both overcome with laughter. "I--I am very sorry, Mrs. Chirk, that the plates were broken, " saidHilda; "but it must have been extremely funny. Poor old hen! she musthave been frightened, certainly. Do you know, " she added, "I thinkBubble is a _remarkably_ bright boy. I am very sure that he will make aname for himself, if only he can have proper training. " "Presume likely!" said Mrs. Chirk, with melancholy satisfaction. "Hisfather was a _real_ smart man. There warn't no better hayin' hand in thecounty than Loammi Chirk. And I'm in hopes Zerubbabel will do as well, for he has a good friend in Farmer Hartley; no boy couldn't have abetter. " Eminence in the profession of "haying" was not precisely what Hilda hadmeant; but she said nothing. "And my poor girl here, " Mrs. Chirk continued after a pause, "she setsin her cheer hay-times and other times. You've heard of her misfortune, Miss Graham?" Pink interposed quickly with a little laugh, though her brows contractedslightly, as if with pain. "Oh, yes, Mother dear!" she said; "MissGraham has heard all about me, and knows what a _very_ important personI am. But where is the yarn that I was to wind for you? I thought youwanted to begin weaving this afternoon. " "Oh!" exclaimed Hildegarde. "Never mind the yarn just now, Pink! I wantto give you a little ride before I go back to the farm. May she go, Mrs. Chirk? It is such a beautiful day, I am sure the air will do her good. Would you like it, Pink?" Pink looked up with a flush of pleasure on her pale cheek. "Oh, " shesaid, "would I like it! But it's too much for you to do, Miss Graham. " "An' with that beautiful dress on too!" cried Mrs. Chirk. "You'd get itdusty on the wheel, I'm afraid. I don't think--" "Oh yes, you do!" cried Hilda, gayly, pushing the chair towards thedoor. "Bring her hat, please, Mrs. Chirk. I always have my own way!" sheadded, with a touch of the old imperiousness, "and I have quite set myheart on this. " Mrs. Chirk meekly brought a straw sun-bonnet, and Hilda tied its stringsunder Pink's chin, every fibre within her mutely protesting against itsextreme ugliness. "She shall not wear _that_ again, " said she toherself, "if I can help it. " But the sweet pale face looked out sojoyously from the dingy yellow tunnel that the stern young autocratrelented. "After all, what does it matter?" she thought. "She wouldlook like an angel, even with a real coal-scuttle on her head. " Andthen she laughed at the thought of a black japanned scuttle crowningthose fair locks; and Pink laughed because Hilda laughed; and so theyboth went laughing out into the sunshine. CHAPTER VIII. THE LETTER. "Nurse Lucy, " said Hildegarde that evening, as they sat in the porchafter tea, "why have you never told me about Pink Chirk, --about herbeing a cripple, I mean? I had no idea of it till I went to see herto-day. How terrible it is!" "I wonder that I haven't told you, dear!" replied Nurse Lucy, placidly. "I suppose I am so used to Pink as she is, I forget that she ever waslike other people. She is a dear, good child, --his 'sermon, ' Jacob callsher. He says that whenever he feels impatient or put out, he likes to godown and look at Pink, and hear her talk. 'It takes the crook right outof me!' he says. Poor Jacob!" "But how did it happen?" asked Hilda. "She says she was only three yearswhen she--Oh, think of it, Nurse Lucy! It is too dreadful. Tell me howit happened. " "Don't ask me, my dear!" said Dame Hartley, sadly. "Why should you hearanything so painful? It would only haunt your mind as it haunted minefor years after. The worst of it was, there was no need of it. Hermother was a young, flighty, careless girl, and she didn't look afterher baby as she should have done. That is all you need know, Hilda, mydear! Poor Susan Chirk! it took the flightiness out of her, and made herthe anxious, melancholy soul she has been ever since. Then Bubble wasborn, and soon after her husband died, and since then she has had a hardtime to fend for herself. But Pink has never been any trouble to her, only a help and a comfort; and her neighbors have done what they couldfrom time to time. " Dame Hartley might have said that she and her husband had kept thisdesolate widow and her children from starvation through many a longwinter, and had given her the means of earning her daily bread insummer; had clothed the children, and provided comforts for the crippledgirl. But this was not Nurse Lucy's way. The neighbors had done whatthey could, she said; and now Bubble was earning good wages for a boy, and was sure to get on well, being bright and industrious; and Mrs. Chirk took in weaving to do for the neighbors, and went out sometimes towork by the day; and so they were really getting on very well, --betterthan one could have hoped. Hildegarde laid her head against the good Dame's shoulder and fell intoa brown study. Nurse Lucy seemed also in a thoughtful mood; and so thetwo sat quietly in the soft twilight till the red glow faded in thewest, and left in its stead a single star, gleaming like a living jewelin the purple sky. All the birds were asleep save the untiringwhippoorwill, who presented his plea for the castigation of the unhappyWilliam with ceaseless energy. A little night-breeze came up, and saidpleasant, soft things to the leaves, which rustled gently in reply, andthe crickets gave their usual evening concert, beginning with a movementin G sharp, _allegro con moto_. Other sound there was none, until by andby the noise of wheels was heard, and the click of old Nancy's hoofs;and out of the gathering darkness Farmer Hartley appeared, just returnedfrom the village, whither he had gone to make arrangements about sellinghis hay. "Wal, Marm Lucy, " he said, cheerfully, throwing the reins on Nancy'sneck and jumping from the wagon, "is that you settin' thar? 'Pears to meI see somethin' like a white apun gloomin' out o' the dark. " "Yes, Jacob, " answered "Marm Lucy, " "I am here, and so is Hilda. Theevening has been so lovely, we have not had the heart to light thelamps, but have just been sitting here watching the sunset. We'll comein now, though, " she added, leading the way into the house. "You'll bewanting some supper, my man. Or did ye stop at Cousin Sarah's?" "I stopped at Sary's, " replied the farmer. "Ho! ho! yes, Sary gave mesome supper, though she warn't in no mood for seein' comp'ny, even herown kin. Poor Sary! she was in a dretful takin', sure enough!" "Why, what was the matter?" asked Dame Hartley, as she trimmed andlighted the great lamp, and drew the short curtains of Turkey red cottonacross the windows. "Is Abner sick again!" "Shouldn't wonder if he was, by this time, " replied the farmer; "but hewarn't at the beginnin' of it. I'll tell ye how 'twas;" and he sat downin his great leather chair, and stretched his legs out comfortablybefore him, while his wife filled his pipe and brought it to him, --alittle attention which she never forgot. "Sary, she bought a new bunnityisterday!" Farmer Hartley continued, puffing away at the pipe. "She'skind o' savin', ye know, Sary is [Nurse Lucy nodded, with a knowingair], and she hadn't had a new bunnit for ten years. (I d' 'no' 's she'shad one for twenty!" he added in parenthesis; "_I_ never seed her withone to my knowledge. ) Wal, the gals was pesterin' her, an' sayin' shedidn't look fit to go to meetin' in the old bunnit, so 't last she giv'way, and went an' bought a new one. 'Twas one o' these newfangledshapes. What was it Lizy called it? Somethin' Chinese, I reckon. FanSong! That was it!" "Fanchon, wasn't it, perhaps?" asked Hilda, much amused. "That's what I said, warn't it?" said the farmer. "Fan Song, FanChong, --wal, what's the odds? 'Twas a queer lookin' thing, anyhow, Ish'd think, even afore it-- Wal, I'm comin' to that. Sary showed it tothe gals, and they liked it fust-rate; then she laid it on the kitchentable, an' went upstairs to git some ribbons an' stuff to put on it. She rummaged round consid'able upstairs, an' when she kum down, lo andbehold, the bunnit was gone! Wal, Sary hunted high, and she hunted low. She called the gals, thinkin' they'd played a trick on her, an' hiddenit for fun. But they hadn't, an' they all set to an' sarched the housefrom garrit to cellar; but they didn't find hide nor hair o' thatbunnit. At last Sary give it up, an' sot down out o' breath, an' madenough to eat somebody. 'It's been stole!' says she. 'Some ornerycritter kem along while I was upstairs, ' says she, 'an' seed it lyin'thar on the table, an' kerried it off!' says she. 'I'd like to get holdof her!' says she; 'I guess she wouldn't steal no more bunnits for _one_while!' says she. I had come in by that time, an' she was tellin' me allabout it. Jest at that minute the door opened, and Abner kem sa'nterin'in, mild and moony as usual 'Sary, ' says he, --ho! ho! ho! it makes melaugh to think on't, --'Sary, ' says he, 'I wouldn't buy no more basketswithout handles, ef I was you. They ain't convenient to kerry, ' sayshe. And with that he sets down on the table--that Fan Chong bunnit! He'dbeen mixin' chicken feed in it, an' he'd held it fust by one side an'then by the other, an' he'd dropped it in the mud too, I reckon, fromthe looks of it: you never seed sech a lookin' thing in all your borndays as that bunnit was. Sary, she looked at it, and then she looked atAbner, an' then at the bunnit agin; an' _then_ she let fly. " "Poor Sarah!" said Nurse Lucy, wiping tears of merriment from her eyes. "What did she say?" "_I_ can't tell ye what she said, " replied the farmer. "What did yourold cat say when Spot caught hold of her tail the other day? An' yetthere was language enough in what Sary said. I tell ye the hulldictionary was flyin' round that room for about ten minutes, --Webster'sUnabridged, an' nothin' less. An' Abner, he jest stood thar, bobbin' hishead up an' down, and openin' an' shettin' his mouth, as if he'd liketo say somethin' if he could get a chance. But when Sary was so out ofbreath that she couldn't say another word, an' hed to stop for a minute, Abner jest says, 'Sary, I guess you're a little excited. Jacob an' me'llgo out an' take a look at the stock, ' says he, 'and come back whenyou're feelin' calmer. ' An' he nods to me, an' out we both goes, beforeSary could git her breath agin. I didn't say nothin', 'cause I waslaughin' so inside 't I couldn't. Abner, he walked along kind o' solemn, shakin' his head every little while, an' openin' an' shettin' his mouth. When we got to the stable-door he looked at me a minute, and then hesaid, 'The tongue is a onruly member, Jacob! I _thought_ that was kindof a curus lookin' basket, though!' and that was every word he saidabout it. " "Oh, what delightfully funny people!" cried Hilda. "What did the wifesay when you came in to supper, Farmer Hartley?" "She warn't thar, " replied the farmer. "She had a headache, the galssaid, and had gone to bed. I sh'd think she _would_ have had aheadache, --but thar, " he added, rising suddenly and beginning to searchin his capacious pockets, "I declar' for 't, if I hain't forgottenHuldy's letter! Sary an' her bunnit put everything else out of my head. " Hilda sprang up in delight to receive the envelope which the farmerhanded to her; but her face fell a little when she saw that it was notfrom her parents. She reflected, however, that she had had a doubleletter only two days before, and that she could not expect another for aweek, as Mr. And Mrs. Graham wrote always with military punctuality. There was no doubt as to the authorship of the letter. The delicatepointed handwriting, the tiny seal of gilded wax, the faint perfumewhich the missive exhaled, all said to her at once, "Madge Everton. " With a feeling which, if not quite reluctance, was still not quitealacrity, Hildegarde broke the pretty seal, with its Cupid holding arose to his lips, and read as follows:-- SARATOGA, July 20. MY DEAREST, SWEETEST HILDA, --Can it be possible that you have been away a whole month, and that I have not written to you? I am awfully ashamed! but I have been so TOO busy, it has been out of the question. Papa decided quite _suddenly_ to come here instead of going to Long Branch; and you can imagine the _frantic_ amount of work Mamma and I had to get ready. One has to dress so _much_ at Saratoga, you know; and we cannot just send an order to _Paris_, as _you_ do, my dear Queen, for all we want, but have to _scratch round_ (I know you don't allow your subjects to use slang, but we DO scratch round, and nothing else can express it), and get things made here. I have a _lovely_ pale blue Henrietta-cloth, made like that rose-colored gown of yours that I admire so much, and that you SAID I might copy. Mamma says it was _awfully_ good of you, and that _she_ wouldn't let any one copy _her_ French dresses if she had them; but I told her you _were_ awfully good, and that was why. Well, then I have a white nun's-veiling, made with triple box-plaits, and a _lovely_ pointed overskirt, copied from a Donovan dress of Mamma's; and a dark-red surah, and oh! a perfect "frou-frou" of wash-dresses, of course; two _sweet_ white lawns, one trimmed with valenciennes (I _hate_ valenciennes, you know, but Mamma _will_ make me have it, because she thinks it is _jeune fille_!), and one with the new Russian lace; and a pink sateen, and two or three light chambrays. But now I know you will be _dying_ to hear about my hats; for you always say that the hat _makes_ the costume; and so it _does_! Well, my dearest, I have _one_ Redfern hat, and _only_ one. Mamma says I cannot expect to have more until I come out, which is _bitter_. However, this one is a _beauty_, and yet cost _only_ thirty dollars. It goes well with nearly all my dresses, and is _immensely_ becoming, all the girls say: very high, with long pointed wings and stiff bows. _Simple_, my dear, doesn't _express_ it! You know I LOVE simplicity; but it is _Redferny_ to a _degree_, and _everybody_ has noticed it. Well, my dearest Queen, here am I running on about myself, as if I were not actually EXPIRING to hear about you. What my feelings were when I called at your house on that _fatal Tuesday_ and was told that you had gone to spend the summer on a _farm_ in the _depths_ of the country, passes my _power_ to tell. I could not ask your mother many questions, for you know I am always a little bit AFRAID of her, though she is _perfectly lovely_ to me! She was very quiet and sweet, _as_ _usual_, and spoke as if it were the most _natural_ thing in the _world_ for a brilliant society girl (for that is what you _are_, Hilda, even though you are only a school-girl; and you NEVER can be anything else!) to spend her summer in a wretched farm-house, among _pigs_ and _cows_ and dreadful ignorant people. Of course, Hilda dearest, you know that my admiration for your mother is _simply_ IMMENSE, and that I would not for _worlds_ say _one syllable_ against her judgment and that of your _military angel_ of a father; but I MUST say it seemed to me MORE than strange. I assure you I hardly closed my eyes for several nights, thinking of the MISERY you must be undergoing; for _I_ KNOW you, Hildegarde! and the thought of my proud, fastidious, high-bred Queen being condemned to associate with _clowns_ and _laborers_ was really MORE than I could bear. Do write to me, darling, and tell me HOW you are enduring it. You were _always_ so sensitive; why, I can see your lip curl _now_, when any of the girls did anything that was not _tout à fait comme il faut_! and the _air_ with which you used to say, "The _little_ things, my dear, are the _only_ things!" How _true_ it is! I feel it more and more _every_ day. So _do_ write _at once_, and let me know _all_ about your dear self. I picture you to myself sometimes, pale and thin, with the "_white disdain_" that some poet or other speaks of, in your face, but enduring all the HORRORS that you must be subjected to with your OWN DIGNITY. Dearest Hilda, you are _indeed_ a HEROINE! Always, darling, Your own deeply _devoted_ and _sympathizing_ MADGE. Hildegarde looked up after reading this letter, and, curiously enough, her eyes fell directly on a little mirror which hung on the wallopposite. In it she saw a rosy, laughing face, which smiled backmischievously at her. There were dimples in the cheeks, and the grayeyes were fairly dancing with life and joyousness. Where was the "whitedisdain, " the dignity, the pallor and emaciation? Could this be Madge'sQueen Hildegarde? Or rather, thought the girl, with a sudden revulsionof feeling, could this Hildegarde ever have been the other? The form of"the minx, " long since dissociated from her thoughts and life, seemed torise, like Banquo's ghost, and stare at her with cold, disdainful eyesand supercilious curl of the lip. Oh DEAR! how dreadful it wasto have been so odious! How could poor dear Papa and Mamma, bless them, have endured her as they did, so patiently and sweetly? But they shouldsee when they came back! She had only just begun yet; but there were twomonths still before her, and in that time what could she not do? Theyshould be surprised, those dear parents! And Madge--why, Madge would besurprised too. Poor Madge! To think of her in Saratoga, prinking andpreening herself like a gay bird, in the midst of a whirl of dress anddiamonds and gayety, with no fields, no woods, no glen, no--no_kitchen_! Hilda looked about the room which she had learned so to love, trying to fancy Madge Everton in it; remembering, too, the bitterness ofher first feeling about it. The lamplight shone cheerily on the yellowpainted walls, the shining floor, the gleaming brass, copper, and china. It lighted up the red curtains and made a halo round good Nurse Lucy'shead as she bent over her sewing; it played on the farmer's silver-bowedspectacles as he pored with knitted brows and earnest look over theweekly paper which he had brought from the village. The good, kindfarmer! Hilda gazed at him as he sat all unconscious, and wondered whyshe had not seen at once how handsome he really was. The broad forehead, with its deep, thoughtful furrows; the keen, yet kindly blue eyes; the"sable-silvered" hair and beard, which, if not exactly smooth, werestill so picturesque, so leonine; the firm, perhaps obstinate, mouth, which could speak so wisely and smile so cordially, --all these combinedto make up what the newspapers would call a "singularly attractiveexterior. " And "_Oh!_ how good he has been to me!" thought Hilda. "Ibelieve he is the best man in the world, next to papa. " Then she thoughtof Madge again, and tried to fancy her in her Redfern hat, --prettyMadge, with her black eyes and curly fringe, under the "simplicity" ofthe heaven-aspiring wings and bows; and as she smiled at the image, there rose beside it the fair head of Pink Chirk, looking out like awhite rose from the depths of her dingy straw tunnel. Then she fanciedherself saying airily (she knew _just_ how she used to say it), "The_little_ things, my dear, are the _only_ things!" and then she laughedaloud at the very funniness of it. "Hut! tut!" said Farmer Hartley, looking up from his paper with a smile. "What's all this? Are ye keepin' all the jokes to yerself, Huldy?" "It is only my letter that is so funny, " replied Hilda. "I don't believeit would seem so funny to you, Farmer Hartley, because you don't knowthe writer. But have you finished your paper, and are you ready forRobin Hood?" "Wal, I am, Huldy!" said the good farmer, laying aside his paper andrubbing his hands with an air of pleasurable anticipation. "'Pears to mewe left that good-lookin' singin' chap--what was his name?" "Allan-a-Dale!" said Hilda, smiling. "Ah!" said the farmer; "Allan-a-Dale. 'Pears to me we left him inrayther a ticklish situation. " "Oh, but it comes out all right!" cried Hilda, joyously, rising to fetchthe good brown book which she loved. "You will see in the next chapterhow delightfully Robin gets him out of the difficulty. " She ran andbrought the book and drew her chair up to the table, and all threeprepared for an hour of solid enjoyment. "But before I begin, " she said, "I want you to promise, Farmer Hartley, to take me with you the nexttime you go to the village. I _must_ buy a hat for Pink Chirk. " CHAPTER IX. THE OLD CAPTAIN. "Let--me--see!" said Farmer Hartley, as he gathered up the reins andturned old Nancy's head towards the village, while Hildegarde, on theseat beside him, turned back to wave a merry farewell to Nurse Lucy, whostood smiling in the porch. "Let--me--see! Hev you ben off the farmbefore, Huldy, sence you kem here?" "Not once!" replied Hilda, cheerily. "And I don't believe I should begoing now, Farmer Hartley, if it were not for Pink's hat. I promisedmyself that she should not wear that ugly straw sun-bonnet again. Iwonder why anything so hideous was ever invented. " "A straw bunnit, do ye mean?" said the farmer; "somethin' like a longsugar-scoop, or a tunnel like?" "Yes, just that!" said Hilda; "and coming down over her poor dear eyesso that she cannot see anything, except for a few inches straight beforeher. " "Wal!" said the farmer, meditatively, "I remember when them bunnits wasconsidered reel hahnsome. Marm Lucy had one when she was a gal; I mindit right well. A white straw it was, with blue ribbons on top of it. Itcome close round her pooty face, an' I used to hev to sidle along andget round in front of her before I could get a look at her. I hedrayther a grudge agin the bunnit on that account; but I supposed it washahnsome, as everybody said so. I never see a bunnit o' that kind, " hecontinued, "without thinkin' o' Mis' Meeker an' 'Melia Tyson. I swan! itmakes me laugh now to think of 'em. " "Who were they?" asked Hildegarde, eagerly, for she delighted in thefarmer's stories. "Please tell me about them!" The farmer shook his head, as was his wont when he was about to relapseinto reminiscences, and gave old Nancy several thoughtful taps with thewhip, which she highly resented. "Ol' Mis' Meeker, " he said, presently, "she was a character, she was!She didn't belong hereabouts, but down South somewhere, but she wascousin to Cephas Tyson, an' when Cephas' wife died, she came to stopwith him a spell, an' look out for his children. Three children therewas, little Cephas, an' Myrick, an' 'Melia. 'Melia, she was a peart, lively little gal, with snappin' black eyes, an' consid'ble of a will ofher own; an' Mis' Meeker, she was pooty stout, an' she took things easy, jest as they kem, an' let the children--an' 'Melia specially--do pootymuch as they'd a mind to. Wal, one day I happened in to see Cephas abouta pair o' steers I was thinkin' o' buyin'. Cephas was out; but Mis'Meeker said he'd be right in, she reckoned, an' asked me to take a cheeran' wait. So I sot down, an' while I was waitin', in come 'Melia, an'says she, 'Say, Aunt Cilly (Mis' Meeker's name was Priscilla)--Say, AuntCilly, can I go down an' play with Eddie? He wants me to come, reel bad. Can I, Aunt Cilly?' 'Not to-day, dearie, ' says Mis' Meeker; 'you wasdown to play with Eddie yesterday, an' I reckon that'll do for onewhile!' she says. I looked at little 'Melia, an' her eyes was snappin'like coals. She didn't say nothin', but she jest took an' shoved herelbow right through the plate-glass winder. Ho! ho! Cephas had had hishouse made over, an' he was real proud of his plate-glass winders. I d''no' how much they'd cost him, but 'twas a pooty good sum. An' sheshoved her elbow right through it and smashed it into shivers. I jumpedup, kind o' startled by the crash. But ol' Mis' Meeker, she jes' lookedup, as if she was a _leetle_ bit surprised, but nothin' wuthmentionin'. 'Why, honey!' says she, in her slow, drawlin' kind o' way, 'I didn't know ye wanted to go _that_ bad! Put on yer bunnit, an' go an'play with Eddie _this minute_!' says she. Ho! ho! ho! Them was her verywords. An' 'Melia, she tossed her bunnit on (one o' them straw Shakersit was, an' that's what made me think o' the story), and jes' shook theglass out'n her sleeve, --_I_ d' 'no' why the child warn't cut to pieces, but she didn't seem t' have got no hurt, --and made a face at her aunt, an' off she went. That's the way them children was brought up. " "Poor things!" cried Hilda. "What became of them, Farmer Hartley?" "'Melia, she run off an' married a circus feller, " replied the farmer, "an' the boys, I don't rightly know _what_ become of 'em. They went outWest, I b'lieve; an' after 'Melia married, Cephas went out to jine 'em, an' I ain't heerd nothin' of 'em for years. " By this time they were rattling through the main street of the littlevillage, and presently stopped before an unpretending little shop, inthe window of which were displayed some rather forlorn-looking hats andbonnets. "Here y'are, Huldy!" said the farmer, pointing to the shop with aflourish of his whip. "Here's whar ye git the styles fust hand. Hev tocome from New York to Glenfield to git the reel thing, ye see. " "I see!" laughed Hilda, springing lightly from the wagon. "I'll call for ye in 'bout half an hour;" and with a kindly nod thefarmer drove away down the street. Hildegarde entered the dingy little shop with some misgivings, "I hope Ishall find _something_ fresh!" she said to herself; "those things in thewindow look as if they had been there since the Flood. " She quickly madefriends with the brisk little milliner, and they were soon turning overthe meagre store of hats, trimmed and untrimmed. "This is _real_ tasty!" said the little woman, lifting with honest pridean alarming structure of green satin, which some straggling cock'sfeathers were doing their best to hide. Hilda shuddered, but said pleasantly, "Rather heavy for summer; don'tyou think so? It would be better for a winter hat. What is this?" sheadded, drawing from the farthest recesses of the box an untrimmed hat ofrough yellow straw. "I think perhaps this will do, Miss Bean. " "Oh my land, no! you don't want _that_!" cried the little milliner, aghast. "That's only common doin's, anyhow; and it's been in that boxthree years. Them shapes ain't worn now. " "Never mind!" said Hilda, merrily; "it is perfectly fresh, and I likethe shape. Just wait till you see it trimmed, Miss Bean. May I rummage alittle among your drawers? I will not toss the things about. " A piece of dotted mull and a bunch of soft pink roses rewarded hersearch; and with these and a bit of rose-colored ribbon she proceeded tomake the rough straw into so dainty and bewitching a thing that MissBean sat fairly petrified with amazement on her little hair-cloth sofain the back shop. "Why! why!" she said. "If that ain't the beat of all!It's the tastiest hat I ever see. You never told me you'd learned thetrade!" This last was rather reproachfully said; and Hilda, much amused, hastened to reassure the good woman. "Indeed, I never learned the trade, " she said. "I take to it naturally, I think; and I have watched my mother, who does it much better than I. " "She must be a first-class trimmer, then!" replied Miss Bean, emphatically. "Works in one o' them big houses in New York, I reckon, don't she?" Hildegarde laughed; but before she could reply, Miss Bean went on tosay: "Wal, you're a stranger to me, but you've got a pooty goodcount'nance, an' ye kem with Farmer Hartley; that's reference enough. "She paused and reflected, while Hildegarde, putting the finishingtouches to the pretty hat, wondered what was coming. "I wasn'tcalc'latin' to hire help this summer, " continued the milliner; "butyou're so handy, and yer ma could give ye idees from time to time. So ifye'd like a job, I d' 'no' but I'd like to hire ye. " The heiress of all the Grahams wanted to laugh at this naïve proposal, but good feeling and good manners alike forbade. She thanked Miss Beanfor her kind offer, and explained that she was only spending her schoolvacation at Hartley Farm; that her time was fully occupied, etc. , etc. The little milliner looked so disappointed that Hilda was seized with aroyal impulse, and offered to "go over" the hats in the window while shewaited for Farmer Hartley, and freshen them up a bit. "Well, I wish't ye would!" said poor Miss Bean. "Fact is, I ain't doneso well as I c'd wish this season. Folks is dretful 'fraid o' buyin' newthings nowadays. " Then followed a series of small confidences on the hair-cloth sofa, while Hilda's fingers flew about the forlorn hats and bonnets, changinga ribbon here and a flower there, patting and poking, and producingreally marvellous results. Another tale of patient labor, suffering, privation. An invalid mother and an "innocent" brother for this fraillittle woman to support. Doctors' bills and hard times, and stingypatrons who were "as 'fraid of a dollar-bill as if 'twas the small-pox. "Hilda's eyes filled with tears of sympathy, and one great drop fell onthe green satin hat, but was instantly covered by the wreath of ivywhich was replacing the staring cock's feathers. "Wal, I declare to gracious!" exclaimed Miss Bean. "You'd never knowthat for the same hat, now, would ye? I thought 'twas han'some before, but it's enough site han'somer now. I shouldn' wonder a mite if Mis'Peasley bought that hat now. She's been kind o' hankerin' arter it, thelast two or three times she was in here; but every time she tried it on, she'd say No, 'twas too showy, she guessed. Wal, I do say, you make agret mistake not goin' into the trade, for you're born to it, that'splain. When a pusson's born to a thing, he's thrown away, you may say, on anything else. What _was_ you thinkin'--" But at this moment came a cheery call of "Huldy! Huldy!" and Hildegarde, cutting short the little woman's profuse thanks and invitations to callagain, bade her a cordial good-by, and ran out to the wagon, carryingher purchase neatly done up in brown paper. "Stiddy thar!" said the farmer, making room for her on the seat besidehim. "Look out for the ile-can, Huldy! Bought out the hull shop, hev ye?Wal, I sh'll look for gret things the next few days. Huddup thar, Nancy!" And they went jingling back along the street again. As they passed the queer little shops, with their antiquated signboards, the farmer had something to say about each one. How Omnium Grabb here, the grocer, missed his dried apples one morning, and how he accused hischore-boy, who was his sister's son too, of having eaten them, --"As ifany livin' boy would pick out dried apples to eat, when he hed a hullstore to choose from!" and how the very next day a man coming to buy apair of boots, Omnium Grabb hooked down a pair from the ceiling, whereall the boots hung, and found them "chock full" of dried apples, whichthe rats had been busily storing in them and their companion pairs. How Enoch Pillsbury, the "'pottecary, like t' ha' killed" Old Man Grout, sending him writing fluid instead of the dark mixture for his"dyspepsy. " How Beulah Perkins, who lived over the dry-goods store, had beenbedridden for nineteen years, till the house where she was living caughtfire, "whereupon she jumped out o' bed an' grabbed an umbrella an'opened it, an' ran down street in her red-flannel gownd, with theumbrella over her head, shoutin', 'Somebody go save my bedstid! I ain'tstirred from it for nineteen years, an' I ain't never goin' to stir fromit agin. Somebody go save my bedstid!'" "And was it saved?" asked Hilda, laughing. "No, " said the farmer; "'t wa'n't wuth savin', nohow. Besides, if't_hed_ been, she'd ha' gone back to it an' stayed there. Hosy Grout, whodid her chores, kicked it into the fire; an' she was a well woman to theday of her death. " Now the houses straggled farther and farther apart, and at last thevillage was fairly left behind. Old Nancy pricked up her ears andquickened her pace a little, looking right and left with glances ofpleasure as the familiar fields ranged themselves along either side ofthe road. Hilda too was glad to be in the free country again, and shelooked with delight at the banks of fern, the stone walls covered withwhite starry clematis, and the tangle of blackberry vines which made thepleasant road so fragrant and sweet. She was silent for some time. Atlast she said, half timidly, "Farmer Hartley, you promised to tell memore about your father some day. Don't you think this would be a goodtime? I have been so much interested by what I have heard of him. " "That's curus, now, " said Farmer Hartley slowly, flicking the dust withthe long lash of his whip. "It's curus, Huldy, that you sh'd mentionFather jest now, 'cause I happened to be thinkin' of him myself thatvery minute. Old Father, " he added meditatively, "wal, surely, he _was_a character, Father was. Folks about here, " he said, turning suddenly toHilda and looking keenly at her, "think Father was ravin' crazy, ormighty nigh it. But he warn't nothin' o' the sort. His mind was as keenas a razor, an' as straight-edged, 'xcept jest on _one_ subject. On_that_ he was, so to say, a little--wal--a little _tetched_. " "And that was--?" queried Hilda. "Why, ye see, Huldy, Father had been a sea-farin' man all his days, an'he'd seen all manner o' countries an' all manner o' folks; and 'tain'tto be wondered at ef he got a leetle bit confoosed sometimes between thethings he'd seen and the things he owned. Long'n short of it was, Fatherthought he hed a kind o' treasure hid away somewhar, like them piratefellers used to hev. Ef they _did_ hev it!" he added slowly. "I nevermore'n half believed none o' them yarns; but Father, he thought _he_ hedit, an' no mistake. 'D'ye think I was five years coastin' round Brazilfor nothin'?' he says. 'There's di'monds in Brazil, ' he says, 'wholemines of 'em; an' there's _some_ di'monds _out_ o' Brazil too;' and thenhe'd wink, and laugh out hearty, the way he used. He was alwayslaughin', Father was. An' when times was hard, he'd say to my mother, 'Wealthy, we won't sell the di'monds yet a while. Not this time, Wealthy; but they're thar, you know, my woman, they're thar!' And whenmy mother'd say, 'Whar to goodness be they, Thomas?' he'd only chucklean' laugh an' shake his head. Then thar was his story about the rubynecklace. How we youngsters used to open our eyes at that! Believed ittoo, every word of it. " "Oh! what was it?" cried Hilda. "Tell me, and I will believe it too!" "He used to tell of a Malay pirate, " said the farmer, "that he fit andlicked somewhere off in the South Seas, --when he sailed the 'LivelyPolly, ' that was. She was a clipper, Father always said; an' he runaboard the black fellers, and smashed their schooner, an' throwed theirguns overboard, an' demoralized 'em ginerally. They took to their boatsan' paddled off, what was left of 'em, an' he an' his crew sarched theschooner, an' found a woman locked up in the cabin, --an Injin princess, father said she was, --an' they holdin' her for ransom. Wal, Father foundout somehow whar she come from, --Javy, or Mochy, or some o' them placesout o' the spice-box, --an' he took her home, an' hunted up her parentsan' guardeens, an' handed her over safe an' sound. They--theguardeens--was gret people whar they lived, an' they wanted to giveFather a pot o' money; but he said he warn't that kind. 'I'm a Yankeeskipper!' says he. ''Twas as good as a meal o' vittles to me to smashthat black feller!' says he. '_I_ don't want no pay for it. An' as forthe lady, 'twas a pleasure to obleege her, ' he says; 'an' I'd do it agin_any_ day in the week, _'xcept_ Sunday, when I don't fight, ez a rewl, when I kin help it. ' Then the princess, she tried to kiss his hand; butFather said he guessed that warn't quite proper, an' the guardeensseemed to think so too. So then she took a ruby necklace off her neck(she was all done up in shawls, Father said, an' silk, an' gold chains, an' fur an' things, so 's 't he couldn' see nothin' but her eyes; butthey was better wuth seein' than any other woman's hull face that ever_he_ see), and gave it to him, an' made signs that he _must_ keep that, anyhow. Then she said somethin' to one o' the guardeens who spoke alittle Portuguese, Father understandin' it a little too, and he toldFather she said these was the drops of her blood he had saved, an' hemust keep it to remember her. Jest like drops of blood, he said therubies was, strung along on a gold chain. So he took it, an' said hewarn't likely to forget about it; an' then he made his bow, an' theguardeens said he was their father, an' their mother, an' theirgreat-aunt, an' I d' 'no' what all, an' made him stay to supper, an' hedidn't eat nothin' for a week arterward. " The farmer paused, and Hildegarde drew a long breath, "_Oh!_" she cried, "what a delightful story, Farmer Hartley! And you don't believe it? _I_do, every word of it! I am _sure_ it is true!" "Wal, ye see, " said the farmer, meditatively; "Ef' t was true, whatbecome o' the necklace? That's what _I_ say. Father believed it, sureenough, and he thought he hed that necklace, as sure as you think youhev that bunnit in yer hand. But 'twarn't never found, hide _nor_ hairof it. " "Might he not have sold it?" Hilda suggested. Farmer Hartley shook his head, "No, " he said, "he warn't that kind. Besides, he thought to the day of his death that he hed it, sure enough. 'Thar's the princess's necklace!' he'd say; 'don't ye forgit that, Wealthy! Along with the di'monds, ye know. ' And then he'd laugh like hewas fit to bust. Why, when he was act'lly dyin', so fur gone 't hecouldn' speak plain, he called me to him, an' made signs he wanted totell me somethin'. I stooped down clost, an' he whispered somethin'; butall I could hear was 'di'monds, ' and 'dig, ' and then in a minute 'twasall over. Poor old Father! He'd been a good skipper, an' a good man allhis days. " He was silent for a time, while Hilda pondered over the story, which shecould not make up her mind to disbelieve altogether. "Wal! wal! and here we are at the old farm agin!" said the farmerpresently, as old Nancy turned in at the yellow gate. "Here I've beentalkin' the everlastin' way home, ain't I? You must herry and git intothe house, Huldy, for _I_ d' 'no' how the machine's managed to runwithout ye all this time. I sha'n't take ye out agin ef I find anythin'swrong. " CHAPTER X. A PARTY OF PLEASURE. On a certain lovely afternoon the three happiest people in the world (sothey styled themselves, and they ought to know) were gathered togetherin a certain spot, which was _next_ to the prettiest spot in the world. "You should have had _the_ prettiest, Pink, " said Hilda, "but we couldnot get your chair down into the glen, you know. My poor, dear Pink, youhave never seen the glen, have you?" "No, " answered Pink Chirk, cheerily. "But I have heard so much about it, I really feel as if I had seen it, almost. And indeed I don't think it_can_ be much lovelier than this place. " However that might be, the place they had chosen was certainly prettyenough to satisfy any one. Not far from Mrs. Chirk's cottage was alittle pine-grove, easy of access, and with trees far enough apart toallow the wheeled chair to pass between them. And in the grove, just ina little open space where two or three trees had been cut away, was agreat black rock, with ferns growing in all its cracks and crannies, anda tiny birch-tree waving like a green and white plume on its top. And atthe foot of the rock--oh, what a wonderful thing!--a slender thread ofcrystal water came trickling out, as cold as ice and as clear as--asitself; for nothing else could be so clear. Bubble had made a littlewooden trough to hold this fairy stream, and it gurgled along the troughand tumbled over the end of it with as much agitation and consequence asif it were the Niagara River in person. And under the rock and besidethe stream was a bank of moss and ferns most lovely to behold, mostluxurious to sit upon. On this bank sat Queen Hildegarde, with Bubbleat her feet as usual; and beside her, in her chair, sat sweet Pink, looking more like a white rose than ever, with her fresh white dimitygown and her pretty hat. Hilda was very busy over a mysterious-lookingbasket, from whose depths she now drew a large napkin, which she spreadon the smooth green moss. A plate of sandwiches came next, and some coldchicken, and six of Dame Hartley's wonderful apple-turnovers. "Now, Bubble, " said Hilda, "where are those birch-bark cups that youmade for us? I have brought nothing to drink out of. " "I'll fetch 'em, Miss Hildy, " cried Bubble, springing up with alacrity. "I clean forgot 'em. Say, Pink, shall I--? would you?" and he madesundry enigmatical signs to his sister. "Yes, certainly, " said Pink; "of course. " The boy ran off, and Hilda fell to twisting pine tassels together into akind of fantastic garland, while Pink looked on with beaming eyes. "Pink, " said Hilda, presently, "how is it that you speak so differentlyfrom Bubble and your mother, --so much better English, I mean? Haveyou--but no; you told me you never went to school. " "It was Faith, " said Pink, with a look of tender sadness, --"FaithHartley. She wanted to be a teacher, and we studied together always. Dear Faith! I wish you had known her, Miss Graham. " "You promised not to call me Miss Graham again, Pink, " said Hildegarde, reproachfully. "It is absurd, and I won't have it. " "Well, Hilda, then, " said Pink, shyly. "I wish you had known Faith, Hilda; you would have loved her very much, I know. " "I am sure I should, " said Hilda, warmly. "Tell me more about her. Whydid she want to teach when she was so happy at home?" "She loved children very much, " said Pink, "and liked to be with them. She thought that if she studied hard, she could teach them more thanthe district school teachers about here generally do, and in a betterway. I think she would have done a great deal of good, " she added, softly. "Oh! _why_ did she die?" cried Hilda. "She was so much needed! It brokeher father's heart, and her mother's, and almost yours, my Pink. Why wasit right for her to die?" "It _was_ right, dear, " said Pink, gently; "that is all we can know. 'Why' isn't answered in this world. My granny used to say, -- "'Never lie! Never pry! Never ask the reason why!'" Hilda shook her head, and was about to reply earnestly; but at thismoment Bubble came bounding back with something in his arms, --somethingcovered with an old shawl; something alive, which did not like theshawl, and which struggled, and made plaintive little noises, which theboy tried vainly to repress. [Illustration: "'SAY, MISS HILDY, --DO YOU LIKE PURPS?'"] "Say, Miss Hildy, " he cried, eagerly, "do ye like--be still, ye critter;hesh, I tell ye!--do you like purps?" "'Purps, ' Bubble?" repeated Hilda, wonderingly. "What are they? And whathave you there, --your poor old cat? Let her go! For shame, you naughtyboy!" "Puppies, he means, " whispered Pink. "'Cause if ye do, " cried the breathless Bubble, still struggling withhis shrouded captive, "I've got one here as--Wal, thar! go 'long, yepesky critter, if ye _will_!" for the poor puppy had made one franticeffort, and leaped from his arms to the ground, where it rolled over andover, a red and green plaid mass, with a white tail sticking out of oneend. On being unrolled, it proved to be a little snow-white, curlycreature, with long ears and large, liquid eyes, whose pathetic glancewent straight to Hilda's heart. "Oh, the little darling!" she cried, taking him up in her arms; "thepretty, pretty creature! Is he really for me, Bubble? Thank you verymuch. I shall love him dearly, I know. " "I'm glad ye like him, " said Bubble, looking highly gratified. "HosyGrout giv him an' another one to me yes'day, over 't the village. He wasgoin' to drownd 'em, an' I wouldn' let him, an' he said I might hev 'emef I wanted 'em. I knew Pink would like to hev one, an' I thought mebbeyou liked critters, an' so--" "Good Bubble!" said Hilda, stroking the little dog's curly head. "Andwhat shall I call him, Pink? Let us each think of a name, and thenchoose the best. " There was a pause, and then Bubble said, "Call him Scott, after the boldBuckle-oh!" "Or Will, for 'the wily Belted Will, '" said Pink, who was as inveteratea ballad-lover as her brother. "I think Jock is a good name, " said Hildegarde, --"Jock o' Hazeldean, youknow. I think I will call him Jock. " The others assented, and thepuppy was solemnly informed of the fact, and received a chicken-bone inhonor of the occasion. Then the three friends ate their dinner, and verymerry they were over it. Hildegarde crowned Pink with the pine-tasselwreath, and declared that she looked like a priestess of Diana. "No, she don't, " said Bubble, looking up from his cold chicken; "shelooks like Lars Porsena of Clusium sot in his ivory cheer, on'y sheain't f'erce enough. Hold up yer head, Pinky, an' look real savage, an'I'll do Horatius at the Bridge. " Pink did her best to look savage, and Zerubbabel stood up and delivered"Horatius" with much energy and appropriate action, to the greatamusement of his audience. A stout stick, cut from a neighboringthicket, served for the "good Roman steel;" and with this he cut andslashed and stabbed with furious energy, reciting the lines meanwhilewith breathless ferocity. He slew the "great Lord of Luna, " and on theimaginary body he-- "Right firmly pressed his heel, And thrice and four times tugged amain, Ere he wrenched out the steel. " But when he cried-- "What noble Lucumo comes next To taste our Roman cheer?" the puppy, who had been watching the scene with kindling eyes, and earsand tail of eager inquiry, could bear it no longer, but flung himselfvaliantly into the breach, and barked defiance, dancing about in frontof Horatius and snapping furiously at his legs. Alas, poor puppy! He washailed as "Sextus, " and bade "welcome" by the bold Roman, who forthwithcharged upon him, and drove him round and round the grove till he soughtsafety and protection in the lap of Lars Porsena herself. Then thebridge came down, and Horatius, climbing nimbly to the top of the rock, apostrophized his Father Tiber, sheathed his good sword by his side(_i. E. _, rammed his stick into and _through_ his breeches pocket), andwith his jacket on his back plunged headlong in the tide, and swamvaliantly across the pine-strewn surface of the little glade. Bubble's performance was much applauded by the two girls, who, in thecharacters of Lars Porsena and Mamilius, "Prince of the Latian name, "had surveyed the whole with dignified amazement. And when the boy, exhausted with his heroic exertions, threw himself down on thepine-needles and begged "Miss Hildy" to sing to them, she readilyconsented, and sang "Jock o' Hazeldean" and "Come o'er the stream, Charlie!" so sweetly that the little fat birds sat still on the branchesto listen. A faint glow stole into Pink's wan cheek, and her blue eyessparkled with pleasure; while Bubble bobbed his head, and testified hisdelight by drumming with his heels on the ground and begging for more. "A ballid now, Miss Hildy, please, " he cried. "Well, " said Hildegarde, nothing loth, "what shall it be?" "One with some fightin' in it, " replied Bubble, promptly. So Hildegarde began:-- "Down Deeside cam Inverey, Whistling and playing; He's lighted at Brackley gates At the day's dawing. " And went on to tell of the murder of "bonnie Brackley" and of thetreachery of his young wife:-- "There's grief in the kitchen, And mirth in the ha'; But the Baron o' Brackley Is dead and awa'. " So the ballad ended, leaving Bubble full of sanguinary desires anent thedescendants of the false Inverey. "I--I--I'd like jest to git holt o'some o' them fellers!" he exclaimed. "They wouldn't go slaughterin'round no gret amount when I'd finished with em', I tell ye!" And heflourished his stick, and looked so fierce that the puppy yelpedpiteously, expecting another onslaught. "And now, Pink, " said Hilda, "we have just time for a story before we gohome. Bubble has told me about your stories, and I want very much tohear one. " "Oh, Hilda, they are not worth telling twice!" protested Pink; "I justmake them for Bubble when he takes me out on Sunday. It's all I can dofor the dear lad. " "Don't you mind her, Miss Hildy, " said Bubble; "they're fustratestories, an' she tells 'em jest like p--'rithmetic. Go ahead, Pink! Tellthe one about the princess what looked in the glass all the time. " So Pink, in her low, sweet voice, told the story of THE VAIN PRINCESS. Once upon a time there lived a princess who was so beautiful that it wasa wonder to look at her. But she was also very vain; and her beauty wasof no use or pleasure to anybody, for she sat and looked in her mirrorall day long, and never thought of doing anything else. The mirror was framed in beaten gold, but the gold was not so bright asher shining locks; and all about its rim great sapphires were set, butthey were dim and gray, compared with the blue of her lovely eyes. Sothere she sat all day in a velvet chair, clad in a satin gown withfringes of silver and pearl; and nobody in the world was one bit thebetter for her or her beauty. Now, one day the princess looked at herself so long and so earnestlythat she fell fast asleep in her velvet chair, with the golden mirror inher lap. While she slept, a gust of wind blew the casement window open, and a rose that was growing on the wall outside peeped in. It was a poorlittle feeble white rose, which had climbed up the wall in a stragglingfashion, and had no particular strength or beauty or sweetness. Everyone who saw it from the outside said, "What a wretched little plant!Why is it not cut down?" and the rose trembled when it heard this, forit was as fond of life as if it were beautiful, and it still hoped forbetter days. Inside, no one thought about it at all; for the beautifulprincess never left her chair to open the window. Now, when the rose saw the princess it was greatly delighted, for it hadoften heard of her marvellous beauty. It crept nearer and nearer, andgazed at the golden wonder of her hair, her ivory skin under which theblushes came and went as she slept, and her smiling lips. "Ah!" sighedthe rose, "if I had only a tinge of that lovely red, I should be finerthan all the other roses. " And as it gazed, the thought came into itsmind: "Why should I not steal a little of this wondrous beauty? Here itis of no use to anybody. If I had it, I would delight every one whopassed by with my freshness and sweetness, and people would be thebetter for seeing a thing so lovely. " So the rose crept to the princess's feet, and climbed up over her satingown, and twined about her neck and arms, and about her lovely goldenhead. And it stole the blush from her cheek, and the crimson from herlips, and the gold from her hair. And the princess grew pale and paler;but the rose blushed red and redder, and its golden heart made the roombright, and its sweetness filled the air. It grew and grew, and now newbuds and leaves and blossoms appeared; and when at last it left thevelvet chair and climbed out of the casement again, it was a gloriousplant, such as had never before been seen. All the passers-by stopped tolook at it and admire it. Little children reached up to pluck theglowing blossoms, and sick and weary people gained strength and couragefrom breathing their delicious perfume. The world was better and happierfor the rose, and the rose knew it, and was glad. But when the princess awoke, she took up her golden mirror again, andlooking in it, saw a pale and wrinkled and gray-haired woman looking ather. Then she shrieked, and flung the mirror on the ground, and rushedout of her palace into the wide world. And wherever she went she cried, "I am the beautiful princess! Look at me and see my beauty; for I willshow it to you now!" But nobody looked at her, for she was withered andugly; and nobody cared for her, because she was selfish and vain. So shemade no more difference in the world than she had made before. But therose is blossoming still, and fills the air with its sweetness. * * * * * "My Pink, " said Hildegarde, tenderly, as she walked beside her friend'schair on their homeward way, "you are shut up like the princess; butinstead of the rose stealing your sweetness, you have stolen thesweetness of all the roses, and taken it into your prison with you. " "I 'shut up, ' Hilda?" cried Pink, opening wide eyes of wonder andreproach. "Do you call _this_ being shut up? See what I have had to-day!Enough pleasure to think about for a year. And even without it, --evenbefore you came, Hilda, --why, I am the happiest girl in the world, and Iought to be. " Hildegarde stooped and kissed the pale forehead. "Yes, dear, I think youare, " she said; "but I should like you to have all the pleasant andbright and lovely things in the world, my Pink. " "Well, I have the best of them, " said Pink Chirk, smilingbrightly, --"home and love, and friends and flowers. And as for the rest, why, dear Hilda, what _is_ the use in thinking about things one hasnot?" After this, which was part of Pink's little code of philosophy, she fella-musing happily, while Hilda walked beside her in a kind of silentrage, almost hating herself for the fulness of vigor, the superabundanthealth and buoyancy, which she felt in every limb. She looked sidelongat the transparent cheek, the wasted frame, the unearthly radiance ofthe blue eyes. This girl was just her own age, and had never walked! Itcould not, it _must_ not, be so always. Thoughts thronged into her mindof the great New York physicians and the wonders they had wrought. Mightit not be possible? Could not something be done? The blood coursed morequickly through her veins, and she laid her hand on that of the crippledgirl with a sudden impulse of protection and tenderness. Pink Chirk looked up with a wondering smile. "Why, Hildegarde, " shesaid, "you look like the British warrior queen you told me aboutyesterday. I was just thinking what a comfort it is to live now, insteadof in those dreadful murdering times that the ballads tell of. " "I _druther_ ha' lived then!" cried Bubble, from behind the chair. "If Ihed, I'd ha' got hold o' that Inverey feller. " CHAPTER XI. THE WARRIOR QUEEN. Happily, happily, the days and weeks slipped by at Hartley Farm; and nowSeptember was half gone, and in two weeks more Hilda's parents wouldreturn. The letter had just arrived which fixed the date of theirhomecoming and Hildegarde had carried it upstairs to feast on it in herown room. She sat by the window in the little white rocking-chair, andread the words over and over again. In two weeks--really in two littleweeks--she should see her mother again! It was too good to be true. "Dragons, do you hear?" she cried, turning towards the wash-handstand. "You have seen my mother, Dragons, and she has washed her littleblessed face in your bowl. I should think that might have stopped yourramping, if anything could. Or have you been waving your paws for joyever since? I may have been unjust to you, Dragons. " The blue dragons, as usual, refused to commit themselves; and, as usual, the gilt cherubs round the looking-glass were shocked at their rudeness, and tried to atone for it by smiling as hard as they possibly could. "Such dear, sympathetic cherubs!" said the happy girl, bending forwardto kiss one of them as she was brushing her hair. "_You_ do not ramp andglower when one tells you that one's mother is coming home. I know youare glad, you dear old things!" And then, suddenly, even while she was laughing at the cherubs, athought struck her which sent a pang through her heart. The cherubswould still smile, just the same, when she was gone! Ah! it was not alldelight, this great news. There was sorrow mingled with the rapture. Her heart was with her parents, of course. The mere thought of seeingher mother's face, of hearing her father's voice, sent the blood dancingthrough her veins. And yet--she must leave the farm; she must leaveNurse Lucy and the farmer, and they would miss her. They loved her; ah!how could they help it, when she loved them so much? And the pain cameagain at her heart as she recalled the sad smile with which the farmerhad handed her this letter. "Good news for you, Huldy, " he said, "butbad for the rest of us, I reckon!" Had he had word also, or did he justknow that this was about the time they had meant to return? Oh, but shewould come out so often to the farm! Papa and mamma would be willing, would wish her to come; and she could not live long at a time in town, without refreshing herself with a breath of _real_ air, country air. Shemight have _wilted_ along somehow for sixteen years; but she had neverbeen _really_ alive--had she?--till this summer. Pink and Bubble too! they would miss her almost as much. But that didnot trouble her, for she had a plan in her head for Pink and Bubble, --agreat plan, which was to be whispered to Papa _almost_ the very momentshe saw him, --not quite _the_ very moment, but the next thing to it. Theplan would please Nurse Lucy and the farmer too, --would please themalmost as much as it delighted her to think about it. Happy thought! She would go down now and tell the farmer about it. NurseLucy was lying down with a bad headache, she knew; but the farmer wasstill in the kitchen. She heard him moving about now, though he had saidhe was going off to the orchard. She would steal in softly and startlehim, and then-- Full of happy and loving thoughts, Hildegarde slipped quietly down thestairs and across the hall, and peeped in at the kitchen-door to seewhat the farmer was doing. He was at the farther end of the room, withhis back turned to her, stooping down over his desk. What was he doing?What a singular attitude he was in! Then, all in a moment, Hilda's heartseemed to stop beating, and her breath came thick and short; for she sawthat this man before her was not the farmer. The farmer had not longelf-locks of black hair straggling over his coat-collar; he was notround-shouldered or bow-legged; above all, he would not be picking thelock of his own desk, for this was what the man before her was doing. Silent as her own shadow, Hildegarde slipped back into the hall andstood still a moment, collecting her thoughts. What should she do? CallDame Hartley? The "poor dear" was suffering much, and why should she bedisturbed? Run to find the farmer? She might have to run all over thefarm! No; she would attend to this herself. She was not in the leastafraid. She knew pretty well what ugly face would look up at her whenshe spoke; for she felt sure that the slouching, ungainly figure wasthat of Simon Hartley. Her heart burned with indignation against thegraceless, thankless churl who could rob the man on whose charity he hadbeen living for two years. She made a step forward, with words ofrighteous wrath on her lips; then paused, as a new thought struck her. This man was an absolute ruffian; and though she believed him to be anabsolute coward also, still he must know that she and Dame Hartley werealone in the house. He must know also that the farmer was at somedistance, else he would not have ventured to do this. What should shedo? she asked herself again. She looked round her, and her eyes fellupon the old horse-pistol which rested on a couple of hooks over thedoor. The farmer had taken it down only a day or two before, to show itto her and tell her its story. It was not loaded, but Simon did not knowthat. She stepped lightly up on a chair, and in a moment had taken thepistol down. It was a formidable-looking weapon, and Hildegarde surveyedit with much satisfaction as she turned once more to enter the kitchen. Unloaded as it was, it gave her a feeling of entire confidence; and hervoice was quiet and steady as she said: "Simon Hartley, what are you doing to your uncle's desk?" The man started violently and turned round, his hands full of papers, which he had taken from one of the drawers. He changed color when he saw"the city gal, " as he invariably termed Hilda, and he answered sullenly, "Gitt'n someth'n for Uncle. " "That is not true, " said Hildegarde, quietly, "I have heard your uncleexpressly forbid you to go near that desk. Put those papers back!" The man hesitated, his little, ferret eyes shifting uneasily from her tothe desk and back again. "I guess I ain't goin' to take orders from nogal!" he muttered, huskily. "Put those papers back!" repeated Hildegarde sternly, with a suddenlight in her gray eyes which made the rascal step backward and thrustthe papers hurriedly into the drawer. After which he began to bluster, as is the manner of cowards. "Pooty thing, city gals comin' hectorin'round with their airs an'--" "Shut the drawer!" said Hildegarde, quietly. But Simon's sluggish blood was warmed by his little bluster, and he tookcourage as he reflected that this was only a slight girl, and that noone else was in the house except "Old Marm, " and that many broad meadowsintervened between him and the farmer's stout arm. He would frighten hera bit, and get the money after all. "We'll see about that!" he said, taking a step towards Hilda, with anevil look in his red eyes. "I'll settle a little account with you fust, my fine lady. I'll teach you to come spyin' round on me this way. Yeain't give me a civil word sence ye come here, an' I'll pay ye--" Here Simon stopped suddenly; for without a word Hildegarde had raisedthe pistol (which he had not seen before, as her hand was behind her), and levelled it full at his head, keeping her eyes steadily fixed onhim. With a howl of terror the wretch staggered back, putting up hishands to ward off the expected shot. "Don't shoot!" he gasped, while his color changed to a livid green. "I--I didn't mean nothin', I swar I didn't, Miss Graham. I wasonly--foolin'!" and he tried to smile a sickly smile; but his eyes fellbefore the stern glance of the gray eyes fixed so unwaveringly on him. "Go to your room!" said Hilda, briefly. He hesitated. The lock clicked, and the girl took deliberate aim. "I'm goin'!" shrieked the rascal, and began backing towards the door, while Hilda followed step by step, still covering him with her deadly(!)weapon. They crossed the kitchen and the back hall in this way, andSimon stumbled against the narrow stairs which led to his garretroom. "I dassn't turn round to g' up!" he whined; "ye'll shoot me in theback. " No answer; but the lock clicked again, more ominously thanbefore. He turned and fled up the stairs, muttering curses under hisbreath. Hildegarde closed the door at the foot of the stairs, whichgenerally stood open, bolted it, and pushed a heavy table against it. Then she went back into the kitchen, sat down in her own little chair, and--laughed! Yes, laughed! The absurdity of the whole episode, the ruffian quakingand fleeing before the empty pistol, her own martial fierceness andsanguinary determination, struck her with irresistible force, and pealafter peal of silvery laughter rang through the kitchen. Perhaps it waspartly hysterical, for her nerves were unconsciously strung to a highpitch; but she was still laughing, and still holding the terrible pistolin her hand, when Dame Hartley entered the kitchen, looking startledand uneasy. "Dear Hilda, " said the good woman, "what has been going on? I thoughtsurely I heard a man's voice here. And--why! good gracious, child! whatare you doing with that pistol?" Hildegarde saw that there was nothing for it but to tell the simpletruth, which she did in as few words as possible, trying to make lightof the whole episode. But Dame Hartley was not to be deceived, and sawat once the full significance of what had happened. She was deeplymoved. "My dear, brave child, " she said, kissing Hilda warmly, "to thinkof your facing that great villain and driving him away! The courage ofyou! Though to be sure, any one could see it in your eyes, and yourfather a soldier so many of his days too. " "Oh! it was not I who frightened him, " said honest Hilda, "it was theold pistol. " But Nurse Lucy only shook her head and kissed her again. The thought of Simon's ingratitude and treachery next absorbed her mind, and tears of anger stood in her kind blue eyes. "It was a black day for my poor man, " she said, "when he brought thatfellow to the house. I mistrusted him from the first look at his sulkyface. A man who can't look you in the eyes, --well, there! that's myopinion of him!" "Why did the farmer bring him here?" asked Hilda. "I have oftenwondered. " "Why, 'tis a long story, my dear, " said Nurse Lucy, smoothing her apronand preparing for a comfortable chat ("For, " she said, "Simon will notdare to stir from his room, even if he could get out, which he can't. "). "Of all his brothers, my husband loved his brother Simon best. He was ahandsome, clever fellow, Simon was. Don't you remember, my dear, Farmerspeaking of him one day when you first came here, and telling how hewanted to be a gentleman; and I turned the talk when you asked whatbecame of him?" Hilda nodded assent "Well, " Nurse Lucy continued, "thatwas because no good came of him, and I knew it vexed Farmer to think onit, let alone Simon's son being there. It was all through his wanting tobe a gentleman that Simon got into bad ways. Making friends with peoplewho had money, he got to thinking he must have it, or must make believehe had it; so he spent all he had, and then--oh, dear!--he forged hisfather's name, and the farm had to be mortgaged to get him out ofprison; and then he took to drinking, and went from bad to worse, andfinally died in misery and wretchedness. Dear, dear! it almost brokeJacob's heart, that it did. He had tried, if ever man tried, to save hisbrother; but 'twas of no use. It seemed as if he was _bound_ to ruinhimself, and nothing could stop him. When he died, his wife (he marriedher, thinking she had money, and it turned out she hadn't a penny) tookthe child and went back to her own people, and we heard nothing moretill about two years ago, when this boy came to Jacob with a letter fromhis mother's folks. She was dead, and they said _they_ couldn't do forhim any longer, and he didn't seem inclined to do for himself. Well, that is the story, Hilda dear. He has been here ever since, and he hasbeen no comfort, no pleasure to us, I must say; but we have tried to doour duty by him, and I hoped he might feel in his heart some gratitudeto his uncle, though he showed none in his actions. And now to think ofit! to think of it! How shall I tell my poor man?" "What was his mother like?" asked Hildegarde, trying to turn for themoment the current of painful thought. Nurse Lucy gave a little laugh, even while wiping the tears from hereyes. "Poor Eliza!" she said. "She was a good woman, but--well, there!she had no _faculty_, as you may say. And homely! you never saw such ahomely woman, Hilda; for I don't believe there could be two in theworld. I never think of Eliza without remembering what Jacob said afterhe saw her for the first time. He'd been over to see Simon; and when hecame back he walked into the kitchen and sat down, never saying a word, but just shaking his head over and over again. 'What's the matter, Jacob?' I said. 'Matter?' said he. 'Matter enough, Marm Lucy' (he'salways called me Marm Lucy, my dear, since the very day we were married, though I wasn't _very_ much older than you then). 'Simon's married, ' hesaid, 'and I've seen his wife. ' Of course I was surprised, and I wantedto know all about it. 'What sort of a girl is she?' I asked. 'Is shepretty? What color is her hair?' But Jacob put up his hand and stoppedme. 'Thar!' he says, 'don't ask no questions, and I'll tell ye. Fustplace, she ain't no gal, no more'n yer Aunt Saleny is!' (that was amaiden aunt of mine, dear, and well over forty at that time. ) 'And whatdoes she look like?' 'Wal! D'ye ever see an old cedar fence-rail, --onethat had been chumped out with a blunt axe, and had laid out in the sunand the wind and the snow and the rain till 'twas warped this way, andshrunk that way, and twisted every way? Wal! Simon's wife looks as ifshe had swallowed one o' them fence-rails, and _shrunk to it_! Dear, dear! how I laughed. And 'twas true, my dear! It was just the way shedid look. Poor soul! she led a sad life; for when Simon found he'd madea mistake about the money, there was no word too bad for him to fling ather. " At this moment Farmer Hartley's step was heard in the porch, and NurseLucy rose hurriedly. "Don't say anything to him, Hilda dear, " shewhispered, --"anything about Simon, I mean. I'll tell him to-morrow; butI don't want to trouble him to-night. This is our Faith'sbirthday, --seventeen year old she'd have been to-day; and it's been aright hard day for Jacob! I'll tell him about it in the morning. " Alas! when morning came it was too late. The kitchen door was swingingidly open; the desk was broken open and rifled; and Simon Hartley wasgone, and with him the savings of ten years' patient labor. CHAPTER XII. THE OLD MILL. It was a sad group that sat in the pleasant kitchen that brightSeptember morning. The good farmer sat before his empty desk, seeminghalf stupefied by the blow which had fallen so suddenly upon him, whilehis wife hung about him, reproaching herself bitterly for not having puthim on his guard the night before. Hildegarde moved restlessly about thekitchen, setting things to rights, as she thought, though in reality shehardly knew what she was doing, and had already carefully deposited theteapot in the coal-hod, and laid the broom on the top shelf of thedresser. Her heart was full of wrath and sorrow, --fierce anger againstthe miserable wretch who had robbed his benefactor; sympathy for herkind friends, brought thus suddenly from comfort to distress. For sheknew now that the money which Simon had stolen had been drawn from thebank only two days before to pay off the mortgage on the farm. "I shouldn't ha' minded the money, " Farmer Hartley was saying, even now, "if I'd ha' been savin' it jest to spend or lay by. I shouldn't ha'minded, though 'twould ha' hurt jest the same to hev Simon's son takeit, --my brother Simon's son, as I allus stood by. But it's hard to letthe farm go. I tell ye, Marm Lucy, it's terrible hard!" and he bowed hishead upon his hands in a dejection which made his wife weep anew andwring her hands. "But they will not take the farm from you, Farmer Hartley!" cried Hilda, aghast. "They _cannot_ do that, can they? Why, it was your father's, andyour grandfather's before him. " "And _his_ father's afore _him_!" said the farmer, looking up with a sadsmile on his kindly face. "But that don't make no difference, ye see, Hildy. Lawyer Clinch is a hard man, a terrible hard man; and he's alwayswanted this farm. It's the best piece o' land in the hull township, an'he wants it for a market farm. " "But _why_ did you mortgage it to him?" cried Hilda. "I didn't, my gal; I didn't!" said the farmer, sadly. "He'd kep' watchover it ever sence Simon began to get into trouble, --reckon he knewpooty well how things would come out; an' bimeby Jason Doble, as heldthe mortgage, he up an' died, an' then Lawyer Clinch stepped in an' toldthe 'xecutors how Jason owed him a big debt, but he didn't want to donothin' onfriendly, so he'd take the mortgage on Hartley's Glen and callit square. Th' executors was kind o' fool people, both on 'em--_I_ d'no'what possessed Jason Doble to choose them for 'xecutors, when he mightha' hed the pick o' the State lunatic asylum an' got some fools as knewsomething; but so 'twas, an' I s'pose so 'twas meant to be. They giv'it to him, an' thanked him for takin' it; and he's waited an' waited, hopin' to ketch me in a tight place, --an' now he's done it. An' that'sabout all there is to it!" added Farmer Hartley, rising and pushing backhis massive gray hair. "An' I sha'n't mend it by sittin' an' mowlin'over it. Thar's all Simon's work to be done, an' my own too. Huldy, mygal!" he held out his honest brown hand to Hildegarde, who clasped itaffectionately in both of hers, "ye'll stay by Marm Lucy and chirk herup a bit. 'T'll be a hard day for her, an' she hasn't no gal of her ownnow to do for her. But ye've grown to be almost a daughter to us, Huldy. God bless ye, child!" His voice faltered as he laid his other hand for a moment on the girl'sfair head; then, turning hastily away, he took up his battered straw hatand went slowly out of the house, an older man, it might have been byten years, than he had been the night before. Right daughterly did Hilda show herself that day, and Faith herselfcould hardly have been more tender and helpful. Feeling intuitively thatwork was the best balm for a sore heart, she begged for Nurse Lucy'shelp and advice in one and another item of household routine. Then shebethought her of the churning, and felt that if this thing was tobefall, it could not have better befallen than on a Tuesday, when thegreat blue churn stood ready in the dairy, and the cream lay thick andyellow in the shining pans. "Well, that's a fact!" sighed Nurse Lucy. "If I hadn't forgotten mybutter in all this trouble! And it must be made, sorrow or smiles, asthe old saying is. Come with me, Hilda dear, if you will. Your face isthe only bright thing I can see this sad day. " [Illustration: "EACH TOOK A SKIMMER AND SET EARNESTLY TO WORK. "] So they went together into the cool dairy, where the light came in dimlythrough the screen of clematis that covered the window; Hilda bared herround white arms, and Nurse Lucy pinned back her calico sleeves from apair that were still shapely, though brown, and each took a skimmer andset earnestly to work. The process of skimming cream is in itself asoothing, not to say an absorbing one. To push the thick, yellowripples, piling themselves upon the skimmer, across the pan; to see itdrop, like melted ivory, into the cream-bowl; to pursue floating creamislands round and round the pale and mimic sea, --who can do this long, and not be comforted in some small degree, even in the midst of heavysorrow? Also there is joy and a never-failing sense of achievement whenthe butter first splashes in the churn. So Nurse Lucy took heart, andchurned and pressed and moulded her butter; and though some tears fellinto it, it was none the worse for that. But as she stamped each ball with the familiar stamp, showing animpossible cow with four lame legs--"How many more times, " said the goodwoman, "shall I use this stamp; and what kind of butter will they makewho come after me?" and her tears flowed again. "Lawyer Clinch keeps ahired girl, and I never saw _real_ good butter made by a hired girl. They haven't the _feeling_ for it; and there's feeling in butter-makingas much as in anything else. " But here Hilda interposed, and gently hinted that there ought now to be"feeling" about getting the farmer's dinner. "We must have the things helikes best, " she said; "for it will be hard enough to make him eatanything. I will make that apple-pudding that he likes so much; andthere is the fowl for the pie, you know, Nurse Lucy. " The little maid was away on a vacation, so there was plenty of work tobe done. Dinner-time came and went; and it was not till she had seenDame Hartley safe established on her bed (for tears and trouble hadbrought on a sick headache), and tucked her up under the red quilt, witha bottle of hot water at her and a bowl of cracked ice by her side, --itwas not till she had done this, and sung one or two of the soothingsongs that the good woman loved, that Hilda had a moment to herself. Sheran out to say a parting word to the farmer, who was just starting forthe village in the forlorn hope, which in his heart he knew to be vain, of getting an extension of time from Lawyer Clinch while search wasbeing made for the wretched Simon. When old Nancy had trotted away down the lane, Hilda went back and satdown in the porch, very tired and sad at heart. It seemed so hard, sohard that she could do nothing to save her friends from the threateningruin. She thought of her father, with a momentary flash of hope thatmade her spring from her seat with a half articulate cry of joy; but thehope faded as she remembered that he had probably just started for theYosemite Valley, and that there was no knowing when or where a despatchwould reach him. She sighed, and sank back on the bench with a hopelessfeeling. Presently she bethought her of her little dog, whom she had notseen all day. Jock had grown very dear to her heart, and was usually herinseparable companion, except when she was busy with household tasks, towhich he had an extreme aversion. A mistress, in Jock's opinion, was aperson who fed one, and took one to walk, and patted one, and who was inreturn to be loved desperately, and obeyed in reason. But sweeping, andknocking brooms against one's legs, and paying no attention to one'sinvitations to play or go for a walk, were manifest derelictions from amistress's duty; accordingly, when Hilda was occupied in the house, Jockalways sat in the back porch, with his back turned to the kitchen door, and his tail cocked very high, while one ear listened eagerly for thesound of Hilda's footsteps, and the other was thrown negligentlyforward, to convey the impression that he did not really care, but onlywaited to oblige her. And the moment the door opened, and she appearedwith her hat on, oh, the rapture! the shrieks and squeaks and leaps ofjoy, the wrigglings of body and frantic waggings of tail that ensued! So this morning, what with all the trouble, and with her knowledge ofhis views, Hildegarde had not thought to wonder where Jock was. But nowit struck her that she had exchanged no greeting with him since lastnight; that she had heard no little impatient barks, no flapping of tailagainst the door by way of reminder. Where could the little fellow be?She walked round the house, calling and whistling softly. She visitedthe barn and the cow-shed and all the haunts where her favorite was wontto linger; but no Jock was to be seen. "Perhaps he has gone over to seeWill, " she thought, with a feeling of relief. Indeed, this was verypossible, as the two dogs were very brotherly, and frequently exchangedvisits, sometimes acting as letter-carriers for their two mistresses, Pink and Hilda. If Jock was at Pink's house, he would be well cared for, and Bubble would--but here Hildegarde started, as a new perplexityarose. Where _was_ Bubble? They had actually forgotten the boy in theconfusion and trouble of the day. He had not certainly come to thehouse, as he invariably did; and the farmer had not spoken of him whenhe came in at noon. Perhaps Pink was ill, Hilda thought, with freshalarm. If it should be so, Bubble could not leave her, for Mrs. Chirkwas nursing a sick woman two or three miles away, and there were noother neighbors nearer than the farm. "Oh, my Pink!" cried Hilda; "and Icannot go to you at once, for Nurse Lucy must not be left alone in hertrouble. I must wait, wait patiently till Farmer Hartley comes back. " Patiently she tried to wait. She stole up to her room, and taking up oneof her best-beloved books, "The Household of Sir Thomas More, " lostherself for a while in the noble sorrows of Margaret Roper. But eventhis could not hold her long in her restless frame of mind, so she wentdownstairs again, and out into the soft, golden September air, and fellto pacing up and down the gravel walk before the house like a slender, white-robed sentinel. Presently there was a rustling in the bushes, thena hasty, joyful bark, and a little dog sprang forward and greetedHildegarde with every demonstration of affection. "Jock! my own dearlittle Jock!" she cried, stooping down to caress her favorite. But asshe did so she saw that it was not Jock, but Will, Pink's dog, which wasbounding and leaping about her. Much puzzled, she nevertheless pattedthe little fellow and shook paws with him, and told him she was glad tosee him. "But where is your brother?" she cried. "Oh! Willy dog, whereis Jock, and where is Bubble? Bubble, Will! speak!" Will "spoke" as wellas he could, giving a short bark at each repetition of the well-knownname. Then he jumped up on Hilda, and threw back his head with apeculiar action which at once attracted her attention. She took him upin her arms, and lo! there was a piece of paper, folded and pinnedsecurely to his collar. Hastily setting the dog down, she opened thenote and read as follows:-- MISS HILDY, Simon Hartley he come here early this mornin and he says to me I was diggin potaters for dinner and he come and leaned on the fence and says he I've fixed your city gal up fine he says and I says what yer mean I mean what I says he says I've fixed her up fine. She thinks a heap of that dorg I know that ain't spelled right but it's the way he said it don't she says he I reckon says I Well says he you tell her to look for him in the pit of the old mill says he. And then he larf LAUGHED I was bound I'd get it Miss Hildy I don't see why they spell a thing g and say it f and went away. And I run after him to make him tell me what he d been up to and climbin over the wall I ketched my foot on a stone and the stone come down on my foot and me with it and I didn't know anything till Simon had gone and my foot swoll up so s I couldn't walk and I wouldnt a minded its hurtin Miss Hildy but it s like there wornt no bones in it Pink says I sprante it bad and I started to go over to the Farm on all fours to tell ye but I didn't know anythin g agin and Pink made me come back. We couldnt nether on us get hold of Will but now we got him I hope he l go straite, Miss Hildy Pink wanted to write this for me but I druther write myself you aint punk tuated it she says. She can punk tuate it herself better n I can I an ti cip ate I says. From ZERUBBABEL CHIRK P. S. I wisht I could get him out for ye Miss Hildy. If Bubble's letter was funny, Hilda had no heart to see the fun. Hertears flowed fast as she realized the fate of her pretty little pet andplayfellow. The vindictive wretch, too cowardly to face her again, hadtaken his revenge upon the harmless little dog. All day long poor Jockhad been in that fearful place! He was still only a puppy, and she knewhe could not possibly get out if he had really been thrown into the pitof the great wheel. But--and she gave a cry of pain as the thoughtstruck her--perhaps it was only his lifeless body that was lying there. Perhaps the ruffian had killed him, and thrown him down thereafterwards. She started up and paced the walk hurriedly, trying to thinkwhat she had best do. Her first impulse was to fly at once to the glen;but that was impossible, as she must not, she felt, leave Dame Hartley. No one was near: they were quite alone. Again she said, "I must wait; I_must_ wait till Farmer Hartley comes home. " But the waiting was hardernow than it had been before. She could do nothing but pace up and down, up and down, like a caged panther, stopping every few minutes to throwback her head and listen for the longed-for sound, --the sound ofapproaching wheels. Softly the shadows fell as the sun went down. The purple twilightdeepened, and the stars lighted their silver lamps, while all the softnight noises began to make themselves heard as the voices of day diedaway. But Hilda had ears for only one sound. At length, out of thesilence (or was it out of her own fancy?) she seemed to hear a faint, clicking noise. She listened intently: yes, there it was again. Therewas no mistaking the click of old Nancy's hoofs, and with it was a dimsuggestion of a rattle, a jingle. Yes, beyond a doubt, the farmer wascoming. Hildegarde flew into the house, and met Dame Hartley just comingdown the stairs. "The farmer is coming, " she said, hastily; "he isalmost here. I am going to find Jock. I shall be back--" and she wasgone before the astonished Dame could ask her a question. Through the kitchen and out of the back porch sped the girl, onlystopping to catch up a small lantern which hung on a nail, and to putsome matches in her pocket. Little Will followed her, barking hopefully, and together the two ran swiftly through the barn-yard and past thecow-shed, and took the path which led to the old mill. The way was sofamiliar now to Hilda that she could have traversed it blindfold; andthis was well for her, for in the dense shade of the beech-plantation itwas now pitch dark. The feathery branches brushed her face and caughtthe tendrils of her hair with their slender fingers. There was somethingghostly in their touch. Hilda was not generally timid, but her nerveshad been strung to a high pitch all day, and she had no longer fullcontrol of them. She shivered, and bending her head low, called to thedog and hurried on. Out from among the trees now, into the dim starlit glade; down thepine-strewn path, with the noise of falling water from out the beechwoodat the right, and the ruined mill looming black before her. Now came thethree broken steps. Yes, so far she had no need of the lantern. Roundthe corner, stepping carefully over the half-buried mill-stone. Gropingher way, her hand touched the stone wall; but she drew it back hastily, so damp and cold the stones were. Darker and darker here; she must lightthe lantern before she ventured down the long flight of steps. Thematch spurted, and now the tiny yellow flame sprang up and shed a faintlight on the immediate space around her. It only made the outer darknessseem more intense. But no matter, she could see two steps in front ofher; and holding the lantern steadily before her, she stepped carefullydown and down, until she stood on the firm greensward of the glen. Ah!how different everything was now from its usual aspect. The green andgold were turned into black upon black. The laughing, dimpling, sun-kissed water was now a black, gloomy pool, beyond which the fallshimmered white like a water-spirit (Undine, --or was it Kühleborn, themalignant and vengeful sprite?). The firs stood tall and gaunt, closinglike a spectral guard about the ruined mill, and pointing their long, dark fingers in silent menace at the intruder upon their evening repose. Hildegarde shivered again, and held her lantern tighter, remembering howBubble had said that the glen was "a tormentin' spooky place afterdark. " She looked fearfully about her as a low wind rustled thebranches. They bent towards her as if to clutch her; an angry whisperseemed to pass from one to the other; and an utterly unreasoning terrorfell upon the girl. She stood for a moment as if paralyzed with fear, when suddenly the little dog gave a sharp yelp, and leaped up on herimpatiently. The sound startled her into new terror; but in a moment therevulsion came, and she almost laughed aloud. Here was she, a greatgirl, almost a woman, cowering and shivering, while a tiny puppy, whohad hardly any brains at all, was eager to go on. She patted the dog, and "taking herself by both ears, " as she expressed it afterwards, walked steadily forward, pushed aside the dense tangle of vines andbushes, and stooped down to enter the black hole which led into thevault of the mill. A rush of cold air met her, and beat against her face like a black wingthat brushed it. It had a mouldy smell. Holding up the lantern, Hildegarde crept as best she could through the narrow opening. Agruesome place it was in which she found herself. Grim enough bydaylight, it was now doubly so; for the blackness seemed like somethingtangible, some shapeless monster which was gathering itself together, and shrinking back, inch by inch, as the little spark of light movedforward. The gaunt beams, the jagged bits of iron, bent and twisted intofantastic shapes, stretched and thrust themselves from every side, andagain the girl fancied them fleshless arms reaching out to clutch her. But hark! was that a sound, --a faint sound from the farthest and darkestcorner, where the great wheel raised its toothed and broken round fromthe dismal pit? "Jock! my little Jock!" cried Hildegarde, "are you there?" A feeble sound, the very ghost of a tiny bark, answered her, and a faintscratching was heard. In an instant all fear left Hilda, and she sprangforward, holding the lantern high above her head, and calling out wordsof encouragement and cheer. "Courage, Jock! Cheer up, little man! Missisis here; Missis will save you! Speak to him, Will! tell him you arehere. " "Wow!" said Will, manfully, scuttling about in the darkness. "Wa-ow!"replied a pitiful squeak from the depths of the wheel-pit. Hilda reachedthe edge of the pit and looked down. In one corner was a little whitebundle, which moved feebly, and wagged a piteous tail, and squeaked withfaint rapture. Evidently the little creature was exhausted, perhapsbadly injured. How should she reach him? She threw the ray of light--oh!how dim it was, and how heavy and close the darkness pressed!--on theside of the pit, and saw that it was a rough and jagged wall, withstones projecting at intervals. A moment's survey satisfied her. Settingthe lantern carefully at a little distance, and bidding Will "charge"and be still, she began the descent, feeling the way carefully with herfeet, and grasping the rough stones firmly with her hands. Down! down!while the huge wheel towered over her, and grinned with all its rustyteeth to see so strange a sight. At last her feet touched the softearth; another instant, and she had Jock in her arms, and was fondlingand caressing him, and saying all sorts of foolish things to him in herdelight. But a cry of pain from the poor puppy, even in the midst of hisfrantic though feeble demonstrations of joy, told her that all was notright; and she found that one little leg hung limp, and was evidentlybroken. How should she ever get him up? For a moment she stoodbewildered; and then an idea came to her, which she has alwaysmaintained was the only really clever one she ever had. In herpre-occupation of mind she had forgotten all day to take off the brownholland apron which she had worn at her work in the morning, and it wasthe touch of this apron which brought her inspiration. Quick as a flashshe had it off, and tied round her neck, pinned up at both ends to forma bag. Then she stooped again to pick up Jock, whom she had laidcarefully down while she arranged the apron. As she did so, the feebleray from the lantern fell on a space where the ground had been scratchedup, evidently by the puppy's paws; and in that space something shonewith a dull glitter. Hildegarde bent lower, and found what seemed to bea small brass handle, half covered with earth. She dug the earth awaywith her hands, and pulled and tugged at the handle for some timewithout success; but at length the sullen soil yielded, and shestaggered back against the wheel with a small metal box in her hands. Notime now to examine the prize, be it what it might. Into the apron bagit went, and on top of it went the puppy, yelping dismally. Then slowly, carefully, clinging with hands and feet for life and limb, Hildareascended the wall. Oh, but it was hard work! Her hands were alreadyvery sore, and the heavy bundle hung back from her neck and half chokedher. Moreover the puppy was uncomfortable, and yelped piteously, andstruggled in his bonds, while the sharp corner of the iron box pressedpainfully against the back of her neck. The jutting stones were farapart, and several times it seemed as if she could not possibly reachthe next one. But the royal blood was fully up. Queen Hildegarde set herteeth, and grasped the stones as if her slender hands were nerved withsteel. At last! at last she felt the edge; and the next moment haddragged herself painfully over it, and stood once more on solid ground. She drew a long breath, and hastily untying the apron from her neck, took poor Jock tenderly in one arm, while with the other she carried thelantern and the iron box. Will was jumping frantically about, and tryingto reach his brother puppy, who responded with squeaks of joy to hisenraptured greeting. "Down, Will!" said Hilda, decidedly. "Down, sir! Lie still, Jocky! weshall be at home soon now. Patience, little dog!" And Jock tried hard tobe patient; though it was not pleasant to be squeezed into a ball whilehis mistress crawled out of the hole, which she did with somedifficulty, laden with her triple burden. However, they were out at last, and speeding back towards the farm asfast as eager feet could carry them. Little thought had Hilda now ofspectral trees or ghostly gloom. Joyfully she hurried back, up the longsteps, along the glade, through the beach-plantation; only laughing nowwhen the feathery fingers brushed her face, and hugging Jock so tightthat he squeaked again. Now she saw the lights twinkling in thefarm-house, and quickening her pace, she fairly ran through lane andbarnyard, and finally burst into the kitchen, breathless and exhausted, but radiant. The farmer and his wife, who were sitting with disturbedand anxious looks, rose hastily as she entered. "Oh, Hilda, dear!" cried Dame Hartley, "we have been terribly frightenedabout you. Jacob has been searching--But, good gracious, child!" sheadded, breaking off hastily, "where have you been, and what have youbeen doing to get yourself into such a state!" Well might the good woman exclaim, while the farmer gazed in silentastonishment. The girl's dress was torn and draggled, and covered withgreat spots and splashes of black. Her face was streaked with dirt, herfair hair hanging loose upon her shoulders. Could this be Hilda, thedainty, the spotless? But her eyes shone like stars, and her face, though very pale, wore a look of triumphant delight. "I have found him!" she said, simply. "My little Jock! Simon threw himinto the wheel-pit of the old mill, and I went to get him out. His legis broken, but I know you can set it, Nurse Lucy. Don't look sofrightened, " she added, smiling, seeing that the farmer and his wifewere fairly pale with horror; "it was not so _very_ bad, after all. " Andin as few words as might be, she told the story of Bubble's note and ofher strange expedition. "My child! my child!" cried Dame Hartley, putting her arms round thegirl, and weeping as she did so. "How could you do such a fearful thing?Think, if your foot had slipped you might be lying there now yourself, in that dreadful place!" and she shuddered, putting back the tangle offair hair with trembling fingers. "Ah, but you see, my foot _didn't_ slip, Nurse Lucy!" replied Hilda, gayly. "I wouldn't _let_ it slip! And here I am safe and sound, so it'sreally absurd for you to be frightened now, my dear!" "Why in the name of the airthly didn't ye wait till I kem home, and letme go down for ye?" demanded the farmer, who was secretly delightedwith the exploit, though he tried to look very grave. "Oh! I--I never thought of it!" said Hildegarde. "My only thought was toget down there as quickly as possible. So I waited till I heard youcoming, for I didn't want to leave Nurse Lucy alone; and then--I went!And I will not be scolded, " she added quickly, "for I think I have madea great discovery. " She held one hand behind her as she spoke, and hereyes sparkled as she fixed them on the farmer. "Dear Farmer Hartley, "she said, "is it true, as Bubble told me, that your father used to godown often into the vault of the old mill?" "Why, yes, he did, frequent!" said the farmer, wondering. "'Twas a fancyof his, pokin' about thar. But what--" "Wait a moment!" cried Hilda, trembling with excitement. "Wait a moment!Think a little, dear Farmer Hartley! Did you not tell me that when hewas dying, your father said something about digging? Try to rememberjust what he said!" The farmer ran his hand through his shaggy locks with a bewildered look. "What on airth are ye drivin' at, Hildy?" he said. "Father? why, hedidn't say nothin' at the last, 'cept about them crazy di'monds he wasallus jawin' about. 'Di'monds' says he. And then he says 'Dig!' an' fellback on the piller, an' that was all. " "Yes!" cried Hilda. "And you never did dig, did you? But now somebodyhas been digging. Little Jock began, and I finished; and we havefound--we have found--" She broke off suddenly, and drawing her handfrom behind her back, held up the iron box. "Take it!" she cried, thrusting it into the astonished farmer's hands, and falling on herknees beside his chair. "Take it and open it! I think--oh! I amsure--that you will not lose the farm after all. Open it quickly, _please_!" [Illustration: "'TAKE IT AND OPEN IT!'"] Now much agitated in spite of himself, Farmer Hartley bent himself tothe task of opening the box. For some minutes it resisted stubbornly, and even when the lock was broken, the lid clung firmly, and the rustedhinges refused to perform their office. But at length they yielded, andslowly, unwillingly, the box opened. Hilda's breath came short andquick, and she clasped her hands unconsciously as she bent forward tolook into the mysterious casket. What did she see? At first nothing but a handkerchief, --a yellow silk handkerchief, ofcurious pattern, carefully folded into a small square and fitting nicelyinside the box. That was all; but Farmer Hartley's voice trembled as hesaid, in a husky whisper, "Father's hankcher!" and it was with a shakinghand that he lifted the folds of silk. One look--and he fell back in hischair, while Hildegarde quietly sat down on the floor and cried. For thediamonds were there! Big diamonds and little diamonds, --some roughand dull, others flashing out sparks of light, as if they shone thebrighter for their long imprisonment; some tinged with yellow or blue, some with the clear white radiance which is seen in nothing else save adewdrop when the morning sun first strikes upon it. There they lay, --ahandful of stones, a little heap of shining crystals; but enough to payoff the mortgage on Hartley's Glen and leave the farmer a rich man forlife. Dame Hartley was the first to rouse herself from the silent amaze intowhich they had fallen. "Well, well!" she said, wiping her eyes, "theways of Providence are mysterious. To think of it, after all theseyears! Why, Jacob! Come, my dear, come! You ain't crying, now that theLord, and this blessed child under Him, has taken away all yourtrouble?" But the farmer, to his own great amazement, _was_ crying. He sobbedquietly once or twice, then cleared his throat, and wiped his eyes withthe old silk handkerchief. "Poor ol' father, " he said, simply. "It seemskind o' hard that nobody ever believed him, an' we let him die thinkin'he was crazy. That takes holt on me; it does, Marm Lucy, now I tell ye!Seems like's if I'd been punished for not havin' faith, and now I gitthe reward without havin' deserved it. " "As if you _could_ have reward enough!" cried Hildegarde, laying herhand on his affectionately. "But, oh! do just look at them, dear FarmerHartley! Aren't they beautiful? But what is that peeping out of thecotton-wool beneath? It is something red. " Farmer Hartley felt beneath the cotton which lined the box, and drewout--oh, wonderful! a chain of rubies! Each stone glowed like a livingcoal as he held it up in the lamp-light. Were they rubies, or were theydrops of blood linked together by a thread of gold? "The princess's necklace!" cried Hilda. "Oh, beautiful! beautiful! AndI _knew_ it was true! I knew it all the time. " The old man fixed a strange look, solemn and tender, on the girl as shestood at his side, radiant and glowing with happiness. "She said--" hisvoice trembled as he spoke, "that furrin woman--she said it was herheart's blood as father had saved. And now it's still blood, Hildy, mygal, our heart's blood, that goes out to you, and loves and blesses youas if you were our own child come back from the dead. " And drawing herto him, he clasped the ruby chain round Hilda's neck. CHAPTER XIII. THE TREE-PARTY. Another golden day! But the days would all be golden now, thoughtHildegarde. "Oh, how different it is from yesterday!" she cried to NurseLucy as she danced about the kitchen. "The sun shone yesterday, but itdid us no good. To-day it warms my heart, the good sunshine. Andyesterday the trees seemed to mock me, with all their scarlet and gold;but to-day they are dressed up to celebrate our good fortune. Let uscall them in to rejoice with us, Nurse Lucy. Let us have a tree-party, instead of a tea-party!" "My dear, " said Dame Hartley, looking up with a puzzled smile, "what_do_ you mean?" "Oh! I don't mean to invite the whole forest to supper, " saidHildegarde, laughing. "But you shall see, Nurse Lucy; you shall see. Just wait till this afternoon. I must run now over to Pink's, and tellher all the wonderful things that have happened, and see how poor Bubbleis. " Away she went like a flash, through the golden fields, down the lane, where the maples made a flaming tent of scarlet over her head, burstingsuddenly like a whirlwind into the little cottage, where the brother andsister, both now nearly helpless, sat waiting with pale and anxiousfaces. At sight of her Pink uttered a cry of delight, while Bubbleflushed with pleasure; and both were about to pour out a flood of eagerquestions, when Hilda laid her hand over Pink's mouth and made a sign tothe boy. "Two minutes to get my breath!" she cried, panting; "only two, and then you shall hear all. " She spent the two minutes in filling thekettle and presenting Bubble with a pot of peach-marmalade that DameHartley had sent him; then, sitting down by the invalid's chair, shetold from beginning to end the history of the past two days. The recitalwas thrilling enough, and before it was over the pale cheeks werecrimson, and the two pairs of blue eyes blazed with excitement. "_Oh!_" cried Bubble, hopping up and down in his chair, regardless ofthe sprained ankle. "Oh, I _say_, Miss Hildy! I dunno what _to_ say!Wouldn't _he_ ha' liked it, though? My! 'twas jest like himself. Jes'exactly what he'd ha' done. " "What who would have done, Bubble?" asked Hilda, laughing. "Why, him! Buckle-oh!" said the boy. "I was jest sayin' over the ballidwhen I saw ye comin'. Warn't it like him, Pink, say?" But Pink drew the stately head down towards her, and kissed the glowingcheek, and whispered, "Queen Hildegarde! _my_ queen!" The tears started to Hilda's eyes as she returned the kiss; but shebrushed them away, and rose hastily, announcing her intention of"setting things to rights" against Mrs. Chirk's return. "You poordears!" she cried, "how did you manage yesterday? If I had only known, Iwould have come and got dinner for you. " "Oh! we got on very well indeed, " replied Pink, laughing, "though therewere one or two mishaps. Fortunately there was plenty of bread in thecupboard, where we could easily reach it; and with that and the molassesjug, we were in no danger of starvation. But Mother had left acustard-pie on the upper shelf, and poor Bubble wanted a piece of it fordinner. But neither of us cripples could get at it; and for a long timewe could think of no plan which would make it possible. At last Bubblehad a bright idea. You remember the big fork that Mother uses to takepies out of the oven? Well, he spliced that on to the broom-handle, andthen, standing well back, so that he could see (on one foot, of course, for he couldn't put the other to the ground), he reached for the pie. Itwas a dreadful moment, Hilda! The pie slid easily on to the fork, andfor a moment all seemed to promise well; but the next minute, just asBubble began to lower it, he wavered on his one foot--only a little, butenough to send the poor pie tumbling to the ground. " "Poor pie!" cried Bubble. "Wal, I like that! Poor _me_, I sh'd say. I'dhad bread'n m'lasses three meals runnin', Miss Hildy. Now don't youthink that old pie might ha' come down straight?" "You should have seen his face, poor dear!" cried Pink. "He reallycouldn't laugh--for almost two minutes. " "Wal, I s'pose 'twas kind o' funny, " the boy admitted, while Hildalaughed merrily over the catastrophe. "But thar! when one's used tostandin' on two legs, it's dretful onhandy tryin' to stand on one. We'llhave bread and jam to-day, " he added, with an affectionate glance atthe pot of marmalade, "and that's a good enough dinner for the Governoro' the State. " "Indeed, you shall have more than that!" cried Hildegarde. "Nurse Lucydoes not need me before dinner, so I will get your dinner for you. " So the active girl made up the fire anew, swept the floor, dusted tablesand chairs, and made the little room look tidy and cheerful, as Pinkloved to see it. Then she ran down to the cellar, and reappeared with abasket of potatoes and a pan of rosy apples. "Now we will perform a trio!" she said. "Pink, you shall peel and corethe apples for apple-sauce, and Bubble shall pare the potatoes, while Imake biscuit and gingerbread. " Accordingly, she rolled up her sleeves and set busily to work; theothers followed her example, and fingers and tongues moved ceaselessly, in cheerful emulation of each other. "I'd like to git hold o' Simon Hartley!" said Bubble, slicing vengefullyat a big potato. "I wish't he was this tater, so I do! _I'd_ skin him!Yah! ornery critter! An' him standin' thar an' grinnin' at me over thewall, an' I couldn't do nothin'! Seemed's though I sh'd _fly_, MissHildy, it did; an' then not to be able to crawl even! I sw--I tell ye, now, I didn't like that. " "Poor Bubble!" said Hilda, compassionately, "I'm sure you didn't. Anddid he really start to crawl over to the farm, Pink?" "Indeed he did!" replied Pink. "Nothing that I could say would keep himfrom trying it; so I bandaged his ankle as well as I could, and off hestarted. But he fainted twice before he got to the gate, so there wasnothing for it but to crawl back again, and--have the knees of histrousers mended. " "Dear boy!" said Hilda, patting the curly head affectionately. "Good, faithful boy! I shall think a great deal more of it, Bubble, than ifyou had been able to walk all the way. And, after all, " she added, "I amglad I had to do it myself, --go down to the mill, I mean. It issomething to remember! I would not have missed it. " "No more wouldn't I!" cried Bubble, enthusiastically. "I'd ha' done itfor ye twenty times, ye know that, Miss Hildy; but I druther ha' hed youdo it;" and Hildegarde understood him perfectly. The simple meal prepared and set out, Hilda bade farewell to her twofriends, and flitted back to the farm. Mrs. Chirk was to return in theevening, so she felt no further anxiety about them. She found the farmer just returned from the village in high spirits. Squire Gaylord had examined the diamonds, pronounced them of greatvalue, and had readily advanced the money to pay off the mortgage, taking two or three large stones as security. Lawyer Clinch hadreluctantly received his money, and relinquished all claim uponHartley's Glen, though with a very bad grace. "He kind o' insinuated that the di'monds had prob'ly ben stole by Father_or_ me, he couldn't say which; and he said somethin' about inquirin'into the matter. But Squire Gaylord shut him up pooty quick, by sayin'thar was more things than that as might be inquired into, and if hebegan, others might go on; and Lawyer Clinch hadn't nothin' more to sayafter that. " When dinner was over, and everything "redded up, " Hildegarde sent DameHartley upstairs to take a nap, and escorted the farmer as far as thebarn on his way to the turnip-field. Then, "the coast being clear, " shesaid to herself, "we will prepare for the tree-party. " Accordingly, arming herself with a stout pruning-knife, she took her wayto the "wood-lot, " which lay on the north side of the house. Thesplendor of the trees, which were now in full autumnal glory, gave Hildaa sort of rapture as she approached them. What had she ever seen sobeautiful as this, --the shifting, twinkling myriads of leaves, blazingwith every imaginable shade of color above the black, straight trunks;the deep, translucent blue of the sky bending above; the golden lightwhich transfused the whole scene; the crisp freshness of the afternoonair? She wanted to sing, to dance, to do everything that was joyous andfree. But now she had work to do. She visited all her favoritetrees, --the purple ash, the vivid, passionate maples, the oaks in theirsober richness of murrey and crimson. On each and all she leviedcontributions, cutting armful after armful, and carried them to thehouse, piling them in splendid heaps on the shed-floor. Then, aftercarefully laying aside a few specially perfect branches, she began thework of decoration. Over the chimney-piece she laid great boughs ofmaple, glittering like purest gold in the afternoon light, whichstreamed broadly in through the windows. Others--scarlet, pink, dappledred, and yellow--were placed over the windows, the doors, the dresser. She filled the corners with stately oak-boughs, and made a bower of thepurple ash in the bow-window, --Faith's window. Then she set thetea-table with the best china, every plate and dish resting on a mat ofscarlet leaves, while a chain of yellow ones outlined the shining squareboard. A tiny scarlet wreath encircled the tea-kettle, and even thebutter-dish displayed its golden balls beneath an arch of flamingcrimson. This done, she filled a great glass bowl with purple-fringedasters and long, gleaming sprays of golden-rod, and setting it in themiddle of the table, stood back with her head a little on one side andsurveyed the general effect. "Good!" was her final comment; "very good! And now for my own part. " She gathered in her apron the branches first selected, and carried themup to her own room, where she proceeded to strip off the leaves and tofashion them into long garlands. As her busy fingers worked, herthoughts flew hither and thither, bringing back the memories of the pastfew days. Now she stood in the kitchen, pistol in hand, facing therascal Simon Hartley; and she laughed to think how he had shaken andcowered before the empty weapon. Now she was in the vault of the ruinedmill, with a thousand horrors of darkness pressing on her, and only thetiny spark of light in her lantern to keep off the black and shapelessmonsters. Now she thought of the kind farmer, with a throb of pity, asshe recalled the hopeless sadness of his face the night before. Just thevery night before, only a few hours; and now how different everythingwas! Her heart gave a little happy thrill to think that she, Hilda, the"city gal, " had been able to help these dear friends in their trouble. They loved her already, she knew that; they would love her more now. Ah!and they would miss her all the more, now that she must leave them sosoon. Then, like a flash, her thoughts reverted to the plan she had beenrevolving in her mind two days before, before all these strange thingshad happened. It was a delightful little plan! Pink was to be sent to aNew York hospital, --the very best hospital that could be found; andHildegarde hoped--she thought--she felt almost sure that the troublecould be greatly helped, if not cured altogether. And then, when Pinkwas well, or at least a great, great deal better, she was to come andlive at the farm, and help Nurse Lucy, and sing to the farmer, and beall the comfort--no, not all, but nearly the comfort that Faith wouldhave been if she had lived. And Bubble--yes! Bubble must go toschool, --to a good school, where his bright, quick mind should learneverything there was to learn. Papa would see to that, Hilda knew hewould. Bubble would delight Papa! And then he would go to college, andby and by become a famous doctor, or a great lawyer, or--oh! Bubblecould be anything he chose, she was sure of it. So the girl's happy thoughts flew on through the years that were tocome, weaving golden fancies even as her fingers were weaving the gaychains of shining leaves; but let us hope the fancy-chains, airy as theywere, were destined to become substantial realities long after thegolden wreaths had faded. But now the garlands were ready, and none too soon; for the shadows werelengthening, and she heard Nurse Lucy downstairs, and Farmer Hartleywould be coming in soon to his tea. She took from a drawer her one whitefrock, the plain lawn which had once seemed so over-plain to her, andwith the wreaths of scarlet and gold she made a very wonderful thing ofit. Fifteen minutes' careful work, and Hilda stood looking at her imagein the glass, well pleased and a little surprised; for she had been toobusy of late to think much about her looks, and had not realized how sunand air and a free, out-door life had made her beauty blossom and glowlike a rose in mid-June. With a scarlet chaplet crowning her fair locks, bands of gold about waist and neck and sleeves, and the whole skirtcovered with a fantastic tracery of mingled gold and fire, she was avision of almost startling loveliness. She gave a little happy laugh. "Dear old Farmer!" she said, "he likes to see me fine. I think this willplease him. " And light as a thistledown, the girl floated downstairs anddanced into the kitchen just as Farmer Hartley entered it from the otherside. "Highty-tighty!" cried the good man, "what's all this? Is there a fire?Everything's all ablaze! Why, Hildy! bless my soul!" He stood in silentdelight, looking at the lovely figure before him, with its face of rosyjoy and its happy, laughing eyes. "It's a tree-party, " explained Hildegarde, taking his two hands andleading him forward. "I'm part of it, you see, Farmer Hartley. Do youlike it? Is it pretty? It's to celebrate our good fortune, " she added;and putting her arm in the old man's, she led him about the room, pointing out the various decorations, and asking his approval. Farmer Hartley admired everything greatly, but in an absent way, as ifhis mind were preoccupied with other matters. He turned frequentlytowards the door, as if he expected some one to follow him. "All forme?" he kept asking. "All for me and Marm Lucy, Hildy? Ye--ye ain'texpectin' nobody else to tea, now?" "No, " said Hilda, wondering. "Of course not. Who else is there to come?Bubble has sprained his ankle, you know, and Pink--" "Yes, yes; I know, I know!" said the farmer, still with that backwardglance at the door. And then, as he heard some noise in the yard, headded hurriedly: "At the same time, ye know, Hildy, people do sometimesdrop in to tea--kind o' onexpected-like, y' understand. And--and--allthis pretty show might--might seem to--indicate, ye see--" "Jacob Hartley? what are you up to?" demanded Nurse Lucy, ratheranxiously, as she stood at the shed-door watching him intently. "Doesyour head feel dizzy? You'd better go and lie down; you've had too muchexcitement for a man of--" "Oh, you thar, Marm Lucy?" cried the farmer, with a sigh of relief thatwas half a chuckle, "Now, thar! you tell Hildy that folks does sometimesdrop in--onexpected-like--folks from a _con_sid'able distance sometimes. Why, I've known 'em--" But here he stopped suddenly. And as Hilda, expecting she knew not what, stood with hands clasped together, andbeating heart, the door was thrown open and a strong, cheery voicecried, "Well, General!" Another moment, and she was clasped in herfather's arms. THE LAST WORD. The lovely autumn is gone, and winter is here. Mr. And Mrs. Graham havelong since been settled at home, and Hildegarde is with them. How doesit fare with her, the new Hildegarde, under the old influences and amidthe old surroundings? For answer, let us take the word of her oldestfriend, --the friend who "_knows_ Hildegarde!" Madge Everton has justfinished a long letter to Helen McIvor, who is spending the winter inWashington, and there can be no harm in our taking a peep into it. "You ask me about Hilda Graham; but, _alas!_ I have NOTHING pleasant to tell. My dear, Hilda is simply LOST to us! It is all the result of that _dreadful_ summer spent among _swineherds_. You know what the Bible says! I don't know exactly _what_, but something _terrible_ about that sort of thing. Of course it is _partly_ her mother's influence as well. I have always DREADED it for Hilda, who is so _sensitive_ to _impressions_. Why, I remember, as far back as the first year that we were at Mme. Haut-Ton's, Mrs. Graham saying to Mamma, 'I wish we could interest our girls a little in _sensible_ things!' My dear, she meant _hospitals_ and _soup-kitchens_ and things! And Mamma said (you know Mamma isn't in the _least_ afraid of Mrs. Graham, though I confess I AM!), 'My _dear_ Mrs. Graham, if there is _one_ thing Society will NOT tolerate, it is a _sensible_ woman. Our girls might as well have the small-pox at once, and be done with it. ' Wasn't it _clever_ of Mamma? And Mrs. Graham just LOOKED at her as if she were a _camel_ from _Barnum's_. "Well, poor Hildegarde is sensible enough _now_ to satisfy _even_ her mother. Ever since she came home from that _odious_ place, it has been one round of hospitals and tenement-houses and _sloughs of horror_. I don't mean that she has given up school, for she is studying harder than ever; but out of school she is simply _swallowed up_ by these wretched things. I have remonstrated with her _almost_ on my KNEES. 'Hildegarde, ' I said one day, 'do you REALIZE that you are practically _giving up_ your _whole_ LIFE? If you once _lose your place_ in Society among those of your _own age_ and _position_, you NEVER can regain it. Do you REALIZE this, Hilda? for I feel it a SOLEMN DUTY to _warn_ you!' My dear, she actually LAUGHED! and only said, 'Dear Madge, I have only just begun to have any life!' And that was _all_ I could get out of her, for just then some one came in. But even _this_ is not _the worst_! Oh, Helen! she has some of the _creatures_ whom she saw this summer, actually _staying_ in the house, --in THAT house, which we used to call Castle Graham, and were almost afraid to enter ourselves, so stately and beautiful it was! There are two of these creatures, --a girl about our age, some sort of dreadful cripple, who goes about in a bath-chair, and a freckled imp of a boy. The girl is at ---- Hospital for treatment, but spends _every Sunday_ at the Grahams', and Hilda devotes _most_ of her spare time to her. The boy is at school, --one of the _best_ schools in the city. 'But _who_ are these people?' I hear you cry. My dear! they are simply _ignorant paupers_, who were Hilda's constant companions through that _disastrous summer_. Now their mother is dead, and the people with whom Hilda stayed have adopted them. The boy is to be a doctor, and the girl is going to get well, Dr. George says. (_He_ calls her a beautiful and interesting creature; but you know what _that_ means. _Any diseased_ creature is beautiful to _him_!) Well, and THESE, my dear Helen, are Hilda Graham's FRIENDS, for whom she has _deserted_ her OLD _ones_! for though she is _unchanged_ towards me when I see her, I hardly ever _do_ see her. She cares nothing for _my_ pursuits, and I certainly have NO intention of joining in _hers_. I met her the other day on _Fifth Avenue_, walking beside that _odious_ bath-chair, which the freckled boy was pushing. She looked so _lovely_ (for she is prettier than ever, with a fine color and eyes like _stars_), and was talking so earnestly, and walking somehow as if she were treading on air, it sent a PANG through my heart. I just paused an instant (for though I _trust_ I am not SNOBBISH, Helen, still, I _draw the line_ at bath-chairs, and will _not_ be seen standing by one), and said in a low tone, meant _only_ for _her ear_, 'Ah! has _Queen Hildegarde_ come to _this_?' My dear, she only LAUGHED! But that _girl_, that cripple, looked up with a smile and a sort of flash over her face, and said, just as if she _knew_ me, 'Yes, Miss Everton! the Queen has come to her kingdom!'" THE END Selections from The Page Company's Books for Young People * * * * * THE BLUE BONNET SERIES _Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1. 75 A TEXAS BLUE BONNET By CAROLINE E. JACOBS. "The book's heroine, Blue Bonnet, has the very finest kind of wholesome, honest, lively girlishness. "--_Chicago Inter-Ocean. _ BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND EDYTH ELLERBECK READ. "A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter. "--_BostonTranscript. _ BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS. "It is bound to become popular because of its wholesomeness and its manyhuman touches. "--_Boston Globe. _ BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS. "It cannot fail to prove fascinating to girls in their teens. "--_NewYork Sun. _ BLUE BONNET--DÉBUTANTE By LELA HORN RICHARDS. An interesting picture of the unfolding of life for Blue Bonnet. BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS By LELA HORN RICHARDS. "The author's intimate detail and charm of narration gives the reader aninteresting story of the heroine's war activities. "--_PittsburghLeader. _ ONLY HENRIETTA BY LELA HORN RICHARDS. Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1. 90 "It is an inspiring story of the unfolding of life for a young girl--astory in which there is plenty of action to hold interest and wealth ofdelicate sympathy and understanding that appeals to the hearts of youngand old. "--_Pittsburgh Leader. _ HENRIETTA'S INHERITANCE: A Sequel to "Only Henrietta" BY LELA HORN RICHARDS. Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1. 90 "One of the most noteworthy stories for girls issued this season. Thelife of Henrietta is made very real, and there is enough incident in thenarrative to balance the delightful characterization. "--_ProvidenceJournal. _ THE YOUNG KNIGHT By I. M. B. Of K. Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1. 75 The clash of broad-sword on buckler, the twanging of bow-strings and thecracking of spears splintered by whirling maces resound through thisstirring tale of knightly daring-do. THE YOUNG CAVALIERS By I. M. B. Of K. Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1. 75 "There have been many scores of books written about the Charles Stuartsof England, but never a merrier and more pathetic one than 'The YoungCavaliers. '"--_Family Herald. _ "The story moves quickly, and every page flashes a new thrill before thereader, with plenty of suspense and excitement. There is valor, affection, romance, chivalry and humor in this fascinatingtale. "--_Kansas City Kansan. _ THE MARJORY-JOE SERIES By ALICE E. ALLEN _Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume_ $1. 50 JOE, THE CIRCUS BOY AND ROSEMARY These are two of Miss Allen's earliest and most successful stories, combined in a single volume to meet the insistent demands from youngpeople for these two particular tales. THE MARTIE TWINS: Continuing the Adventures of Joe, the Circus Boy "The chief charm of the story is that it contains so much of humannature. It is so real that it touches the heart strings. "--_New YorkStandard. _ MARJORY, THE CIRCUS GIRL A sequel to "Joe, the Circus boy, " and "The Martie Twins. " MARJORY AT THE WILLOWSContinuing the story of Marjory, the Circus Girl. "Miss Allen does not write impossible stories, but delightfully pins herlittle folk right down to this life of ours, in which she rangesvigorously and delightfully. "--_Boston Ideas. _ MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY: Or, What Happened at Clover Patch "Miss Allen certainly knows how to please the children and tells themstories that never fail to charm. "--_Madison Courier. _ MARJORY'S DISCOVERY This new addition to the popular MARJORY-JOE SERIES is as lovable andoriginal as any of the other creations of this writer of charmingstories. We get little peeps at the precious twins, at the healthyminded Joe and sweet Marjory. There is a bungalow party, which lasts theentire summer, in which all of the characters of the previousMARJORY-JOE stories participate, and their happy times are delightfullydepicted. THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES By HARRISON ADAMS _Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1. 65 THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO;OR, CLEARING THE WILDERNESS. "Such books as this are an admirable means of stimulating among theyoung Americans of to-day interest in the story of their pioneerancestors and the early days of the Republic. "--_Boston Globe. _ THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES;OR, ON THE TRAIL OF THE IROQUOIS. "The recital of the daring deeds of the frontier is not only interestingbut instructive as well and shows the sterling type of character whichthese days of self-reliance and trial produced. "--_American Tourist, Chicago. _ THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI;OR, THE HOMESTEAD IN THE WILDERNESS. "The story is told with spirit, and is full of adventure. "--_New YorkSun. _ THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI;OR, IN THE COUNTRY OF THE SIOUX. "Vivid in style, vigorous in movement, full of dramatic situations, trueto historic perspective, this story is a capital one forboys. "--_Watchman Examiner, New York City. _ THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE;OR, LOST IN THE LAND OF WONDERS. "There is plenty of lively adventure and action and the story is welltold. "--_Duluth Herald, Duluth, Minn. _ THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA;OR, IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST. "The story is full of spirited action and contains much valuablehistorical information. "--_Boston Herald. _ THE FRIENDLY TERRACE SERIES By HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH _Each one volume, cloth, decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume_$1. 75 THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE "It is a book that cheers, that inspires to higher thinking; it knitshearts; it unfolds neighborhood plans in a way that makes one tingle totry carrying them out, and most of all it proves that in daily life, threads of wonderful issues are being woven in with what appears themost ordinary of material, but which in the end brings results strangerthan the most thrilling fiction. "--_Belle Kellogg Towne in The YoungPeople's Weekly, Chicago. _ PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION "It is a clean, wholesome, hearty story, well told and full of incident. It carries one through experiences that hearten and brighten theday. "--_Utica, N. Y. , Observer. _ PEGGY RAYMOND'S SCHOOL DAYS "It is a bright, entertaining story, with happy girls, good times, natural development, and a gentle earnestness of general tone. "--_TheChristian Register, Boston. _ THE FRIENDLY TERRACE QUARTETTE "The story is told in easy and entertaining style and is a mostdelightful narrative, especially for young people. It will also make theolder readers feel younger, for while reading it they will surely liveagain in the days of their youth. "--_Troy Budget. _ PEGGY RAYMOND'S WAY "The author has again produced a story that is replete with wholesomeincidents and makes Peggy more lovable than ever as a companion andleader. "--_World of Books. _ "It possesses a plot of much merit and through its 324 pages it weaves atale of love and of adventure which ranks it among the best books forgirls. "--_Cohoe-American. _ FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON _Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $2. 00 FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS "More of such books should be written, books that acquaint young readerswith historical personages in a pleasant, informal way. "--_New YorkSun. _ FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS "Mr. Johnston has done faithful work in this volume, and his relation ofbattles, sieges and struggles of these famous Indians with the whitesfor the possession of America is a worthy addition to United StatesHistory. "--_New York Marine Journal. _ FAMOUS SCOUTS "It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascination for boysand young men. "--_New London Day. _ FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVENTURERS OF THE SEA "The tales are more than merely interesting; they are entrancing, stirring the blood with thrilling force. "-_Pittsburgh Post. _ FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES OF THE BORDER "The accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly readable, making abook of wide appeal to all who love the history of actualadventure. "--_Cleveland Leader. _ FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICA "The book is an epitome of some of the wildest and bravest adventures ofwhich the world has known. "--_Brooklyn Daily Eagle. _ FAMOUS GENERALS OF THE GREAT WAR Who Led the United States and Her Allies to a Glorious Victory. "The pages of this book have the charm of romance without its unreality. The book illuminates, with life-like portraits, the history of the WorldWar. "--_Rochester Post Express. _ FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES (Con. ) By EDWIN WILDMAN FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY. --First Series "Are these stories interesting? Let a boy read them; and tellyou. "--_Boston Transcript. _ FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY. --Second Series "As fascinating as fiction are these biographies, which emphasize theirhumble beginning and drive home the truth that just as every soldier ofNapoleon carried a marshal's baton in his knapsack, so every Americanyoungster carries potential success under his hat. "--_New York World. _ THE FOUNDERS OF AMERICA (Lives of Great Americans from the Revolution tothe Monroe Doctrine) "How can one become acquainted with the histories of some of the famousmen of the United States? A very good way is to read 'The Founders ofAmerica, ' by Edwin Wildman, wherein the life stories of fifteen men whofounded our country are told"--_New York Post. _ FAMOUS LEADERS OF CHARACTER (Lives of Great Americans from the Civil Warto Today) "An informing, interesting and inspiring book for boys. "--_PresbyterianBanner. _ " . .. Is a book that should be read by every boy in the wholecountry. .. . "--_Atlanta Constitution. _ FAMOUS AMERICAN NAVAL OFFICERS With a complete index. By CHARLES LEE LEWIS _Professor, United States Naval Academy, Annapolis_ "Professor Lewis does not make the mistake of bringing together simply acollection of biographical sketches. In connection with the life of JohnPaul Jones, Stephen Decatur, and other famous naval officers, he groupsthe events of the period in which the officer distinguished himself, andcombines the whole into a colorful and stirring narrative. "--_BostonHerald. _ STORIES BY EVALEEN STEIN Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, with a jacket incolor $1. 65 THE CHRISTMAS PORRINGER This story happened many hundreds of years ago in the quaint Flemishcity of Bruges and concerns a little girl named Karen, who worked atlace-making with her aged grandmother. GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK "No works in juvenile fiction contain so many of the elements that stirthe hearts of children and grown-ups as well as do the stories soadmirably told by this author. "--_Louisville Daily Courier. _ A LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCE "The story should be one of the influences in the life of every child towhom good stories can be made to appeal. "--_Public Ledger. _ THE LITTLE COUNT OF NORMANDY "This touching and pleasing story is told with a wealth of interestcoupled with enlivening descriptions of the country where its scenes arelaid and of the people thereof"--_Wilmington Every Evening. _ WHEN FAIRIES WERE FRIENDLY "The stories are music in prose--they are like pearls on a chain ofgold--each word seems exactly the right word in the right place; thestories sing themselves out, they are so beautifully expressed. "--_TheLafayette Leader. _ PEPIN: A Tale of Twelfth Night "This retelling of an old Twelfth Night romance is a creation almost asperfect as her 'Christmas Porringer. '"--_Lexington Herald. _