"Oh-ee!" cried the boy. "And _then_ what happened? Did he smite him hip and thigh, even unto the going down of the sun?"
Hildegarde opened her eyes a little at this scriptural phrase, but answered: "Yes, I am afraid papa gave him a pretty severe whipping. He had to, of course. And then he sent him away, and I never saw poor Patsy again. Don"t you think that was sad, Hugh?"
"It was sad for you," replied the boy, "but sadder for Patsy. Would you like to be a dog?" he added, looking up suddenly into Hildegarde"s face.
"I--think--not!" said that young woman meditatively. "I should have to eat sc.r.a.ps and cold bones, and that I could not endure. Besides, you couldn"t read, or play on the piano, or anything of that sort. No, I am quite sure I should not like it, Hugh."
"But you would have a tail!" cried the boy, with kindling eyes. "A tail to wag! And--and just think how you would _go_ with four legs!" he added, giving a jump with his two stout little limbs. "And never to have to sit up straight, except for fun sometimes; and no boots to lace, and not to have to cut up your dinner. Oh! it would be such fun!"
"Yes, and never to be able to change your clothes when they are wet or muddy," replied the girl, "and to have to lie on the floor"--"I like to lie on the floor," put in Hugh--"and to have unnatural people, who don"t like dogs, say, "There! there! get away, dog!" when you are trying to make yourself agreeable."
"Yes, that is bad!" Hugh admitted. "Aunt Loftus beat Merlin yesterday when he hadn"t done anything, just not anything at all. Just he wagged his tail to tell me something, and there was an old jug in the way, and it fell over and broke. And now he isn"t to come into the house any more. I felt like "many oxen come about me, fat bulls of Basan compa.s.s me on every side," when she glared at me and said that."
Hildegarde turned her face away, and was silent for a minute.
"Merlin is your dog?" she asked presently, with a suspicious quiver in her voice.
"Would you like to see him?" cried the lad joyfully. "He stayed behind with a bone, but I"ll call him." He gave a long, clear whistle, and a superb collie came bounding down the avenue, and greeted his master with violent affection.
"Down, Merlin!" said Hugh Allen gravely. "This is the Purple Maid I told you about, but her real name is Hilda. A Purple Maid was what I called you when I saw you coming up the steps," he explained, turning to Hildegarde. "I didn"t know any other name, you see."
"But why "Purple Maid"?" asked Hildegarde, feeling more and more that this was a very queer little boy. "I had been walking fast, but was I actually purple, Hugh?"
"Oh, no!" said the boy. "It wasn"t that at all. Your cheeks were like the rosy eve. But "purple" has a nice sound, don"t you think so? a kind of rich sound. Do you mind my calling you a Purple Maid?"
Hildegarde a.s.sured him that she did not, and then, from mere idle curiosity, as she afterwards a.s.sured herself, she added, "And what do you call your cousin Leonie?"
"A vinegar cruet!" replied Hugh promptly. "And Aunt Loftus is a fat--"
"Oh, hush! hush! my dear little boy!" cried Hildegarde hastily. "You must not say such things as that."
"You asked me," replied Hugh simply. "That is what I do call them when I think about them."
"But it is not nice to think rude and unkind things," said the Purple Maid, reprovingly.
"Then I won"t think about them at all," said the boy. "For they really are, you know. I"d rather think of you, anyhow, and mamma, and Merlin."
[Ill.u.s.tration: "HILDEGARDE HAD BEEN MAKING FRIENDS WITH MERLIN."]
While this dialogue was going on, Hildegarde had been making friends with Merlin, who responded with cheerful cordiality to her advances. He was a beautiful creature, of true collie brown, with a black nose, and the finest white waistcoat in the world. His eyes were wonderful, clear, deep, and intelligent, in colour "like mountain water when it"s flowing o"er a rock."
"Dear lad!" said Hildegarde, taking his black paw and pressing it affectionately. "I know you are as good as you are handsome. Will you be my friend, too? Hugh is going to be my friend."
"He will!" cried Hugh eagerly. "We always like the same people, and _almost_ always the same things. He won"t eat apples, and I don"t chase cats; but those are nearly the only things we don"t like together."
At a turn in the road, Hildegarde saw in the distance a black figure walking toward them.
"There is my mother dear!" she exclaimed. "She said she would come and meet me. Will you come and see her, Hugh?--she is _very_ nice!" she added, seeing that the boy hung back. But Hugh studied his boots again with rapt attention, and apparently read in them a summons back to The Poplars.
"I think I have to go back!" he said. "I love you, and you are my Purple Maid. May I come to see you once?"
"You may come fifty times, dear little lad!" cried Hildegarde warmly.
"Come as often as you like."
But Hugh Allen shook his head sagely. "Maybe once will be enough," he said. "Come, Merlin! Good-by, Purple Maid!" And he and Merlin disappeared in a cloud of legs and dust.
CHAPTER IX.
THE COUSINS.
HILDEGARDE and her cousin Jack soon became fast friends. His fear of Mrs. Grahame vanished the first time he saw her smile, and he found, to his great amazement, that a girl was not necessarily either "dreadful"
or stupid; moreover, that a girl"s mother might be a very delightful person, instead of a mixture of harpy and Gorgon. He was invited to come to tea and bring his violin. Colonel Ferrers was invited, too, but promptly declined.
"A fiddling nephew, dear madam," he said, "is a dispensation to which I resign myself, but I do not wish to hear him fiddle."
Mrs. Grahame suggested that the fiddle might be left at home.
"No, no! Let him bring it! by all means let him bring it! if you can really endure it without discomfort, that is. It will be the greatest pleasure to the lad, who is a good lad, though a deplorable milksop."
So Jack came with the precious black box under his arm. Tea was set out on the verandah, a symphony in white and gold,--golden croquettes, b.u.t.ter, honey, snowy rolls, and cream cheese,--and Hildegarde pouring the tea, in white with gold-coloured ribbons at waist and throat.
Jack Ferrers had never seen anything of this sort. "Daddy" and he had always been together, and neither of them had ever cared or thought how anything looked. He wondered if his cousin Hildegarde was very frivolous. Girls were, of course; and yet--she was certainly very pretty; and, if she really cared for music--and then, being eighteen and hungry, he gave his undivided attention to the croquettes, which truly deserved it.
And after tea, when they had sat quiet in the twilight for a little, Hildegarde said softly, "Now, Cousin Jack!" And Jack took his violin and began to play.
At the first note Mrs. Grahame laid down her knitting; at the second, she and Hildegarde exchanged glances; at the third, they forgot each other and everything else save the music. First came a few simple chords, melting into a soft harmony, a prelude as low and sweet as the notes of the mother-bird brooding over her nest; then, suddenly, from this soft cloud of peaceful harmony there leaped a wonderful melody, clear and keen as the same bird"s song at daybreak,--a melody that mounted higher and higher, soaring as the lark b.r.e.a.s.t.s the blue morning, flight upon flight of golden notes pouring out as if the violin were a living thing, a breathing, singing creature, with heart and soul filled and br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with love and joy and beauty.
On and on the boy played, while the two women listened spellbound, feeling that this was no ordinary playing; and as he played his whole aspect seemed to change. He straightened himself and stood erect, save for the loving bend of the head over the beloved instrument. His blue eyes flashed, his whole countenance grew luminous, intense. The gawky, listless, indolent lad was gone; and one saw only the musician rapt in his art.
When it was over, they were all silent for a moment. Then Mrs. Grahame held out her hand. "My dear boy!" she said. "My dear Jack, you ought to be the happiest fellow in the world. To be able to give and to enjoy such pleasure as this, is indeed a great privilege."
Hildegarde could only look her thanks, for the music had moved her deeply; but her smile told Jack all that he wanted to know, and it appeared that girls were not all frivolous; also that it must be very nice to have a mother.
Then he played again. Indeed, they left him no choice,--the Mozart concerto, of which he had spoken, and then one lovely thing after another, barcarolle and serenade and fairy dance, melting finally into the exquisite melody of an old Gaelic lullaby.
"Oh!" said Hildegarde, under her breath; and then, as her mother bade her, she sang softly the words she loved,--
"Slumber sweetly, little Donald."
Such a happy evening it was, on the wide verandah, with the moon shining down, softening everything into magical wonders of ivory and silver!
It was the first of many such evenings, for soon Jack came to spending half his time at Braeside. At nine o"clock Colonel Ferrers would come striding up the gravel walk, swinging his big stick; and then the violin would be tenderly laid away, and half an hour of pleasant chat would follow, after which uncle and nephew would go off together, and the last the two ladies heard of them would be pa.s.sionate adjurations from the former to "step out," and not to "poke your head forward like an army mule following a grain-cart, sir!"
One day the two cousins were taking a walk together. At least they had been walking, and now had sat down to rest on the mossy trunk of a fallen tree,--in fact, of the same great sycamore which Hildegarde had christened Philemon, on the memorable day of the tree-climbing. They had been talking about everything and nothing, when suddenly Jack shook his head and began earnestly, "Did your mother mean that the other night?"