"It is Miss Hester Bartlett," said one of the bystanders, "and she is--a little--deformed, and lives alone in the edge of the village."
The man turned so white he seemed about to faint as he said: "It is she! Friends"--turning to the much interested crowd, "I have sought her for years. I was in the army and reported killed in battle, and when I went home to take care of my unfortunate sister, she had disappeared, and I have never till now found a clue to her. Take me to her instantly!" turning to Maggie, who was now really crying for joy to think of Miss Hester"s happiness.
But the people urged that such a shock, when she supposed him dead, might be very dangerous, and at last he was persuaded to let some one who knew her break the joyful news to her.
Maggie went back to the cottage the happiest girl in the village, and the next morning the news was safely broken to Miss Hester, who in a short half hour found herself crying on her brother"s shoulder--the richest and the happiest woman in all the world, as she said through her tears.
From that day a new life began for Maggie, for neither brother nor sister would hear of parting from her, who had been the means of their finding each other. A larger house was built, and Miss Hester persuaded to mingle a little with her neighbors, while Maggie took her place among the young people on equal terms with all.
"That was splendid!" said Kristy, with shining eyes, as Mrs. Wilson ended her story. "Is it true? Did it really happen?"
"Yes, it is true; I know Maggie myself,--met her last summer, when I went to B----."
"I should like to know her," said Kristy. "Can"t you tell another, Mrs. Wilson?"
"Kristy," said her mother, reprovingly, "it"s bad enough for you to tease me for stories without making victims of others."
"Oh, I like to tell stories," said Mrs. Wilson, laughing, "and I think I have time to tell Kristy about the naughtiest day of my life."
"Oh, do!" cried Kristy eagerly.
"Did you ever notice in my sitting-room a little dog preserved in a gla.s.s case?"
"Yes, I have," said Kristy, "and I have always wondered about it."
"Well; I"ll tell you why I preserve it so carefully. That little dog saved my life, I believe, and if not my life, he certainly saved my reason."
"Oh, how was that, Mrs. Wilson?" said Kristy earnestly.
CHAPTER XI
HOW A DOG SAVED MY LIFE
I was twelve years old when I had the most dreadful experience of my life--an experience that I am sure would have ended in my death or insanity if it had not been for the love of my little dog Tony.
It was all my own fault, too--my own naughtiness. But let me begin at the beginning. My father and mother were going away from home on a short visit to my grandmother. They had arranged to have me stay at my Uncle Will"s and had given Molly, the maid, leave to spend the time at her own home; so the house was to be shut up and left alone.
Now I had an intimate friend, a schoolmate, of whom my mother did not approve, for family reasons, which I understood when I was older, and she never liked to have me be much with her. When Maud--for that was her name--found out that I was to be at my uncle"s a few days, she at once asked me to stay with her instead. She offered all sorts of inducements. She was going to have a party--a dance it was--and my parents did not approve of dancing. In fact, she drew such an enticing picture of the good times we would have that I was tempted to do what I had never done in my life--deceive my own mother.
I did not dare ask her to let me go to Maud"s, for I knew she would not consent, and if she positively forbade me, I think I should not have ventured to disobey, but if I did not ask her and she did not forbid, that--I thought--would not be so very bad. Fortifying myself by these thoughts, I decided to accept Maud"s invitation secretly.
I made up my mind not to go to Uncle Will"s at all, for I did not want them to know where I was going. I knew my father or mother would lock the house and leave the key at Uncle Will"s, and I wanted to get my best clothes to go to Maud"s party.
After some thought, and at Maud"s suggestion, I planned to hide myself in the house till all had left it, then get the things I wanted, and slip out of a window that was not fastened.
I knew my mother would go all over the house before she left it, and the only place I could think of to hide was in the cellar. So with these naughty thoughts in my head, I took occasion, a short time before they were to start, to slip into the cellar and hide behind some barrels. I must say that I had always a foolish fear of the cellar, and nothing but my great desire to go to Maud"s would have induced me to spend even a few minutes in it.
I heard my father drive up to the door and my mother walking about seeing that everything was shut and locked, but I did not hear that as she pa.s.sed the cellar door she slipped the bolt into place.
When they were out of the house, and I heard them drive away, I came out of my hiding place, exulting in the thought that now I was free to do as I liked. I would hurry up to my room, put my best dress and ribbons and things into a traveling bag, and hurry down to Maud"s. I felt my way to the stairs, for it was late afternoon and the cellar--never very light in the brightest noon--was at that hour quite dark, and I went up those stairs the happiest, lightest-hearted girl in the world. Alas! it was my last happy moment for months.
I fumbled about for the latch, lifted it, and pushed the door. It did not open--and the truth flashed upon me. It was locked! I was a prisoner! The full horror of my position burst upon me. No one knew I was there. No one would seek me. No one could hear me, for the house was at some distance from others. I was a prisoner in a dark cellar--it was almost night--my parents would be gone three days!
I went into a frenzy, I shrieked and called, I pounded the door till my hands were bleeding, though all the time I knew no one could hear me.
I can scarcely remember what I did. I was, I believe, actually insane for a while.
Night came on; I heard--or I thought I heard--rats, and I remembered some of the terrible things I had read of these animals. I shouted again, and again beat the door. I cannot tell the horror and agony of those hours. I felt myself going mad.
I was aroused at last, after hours,--it seemed to me,--by the whining and crying of my dog, my pet, who was my constant companion. He was a clever little fellow and, I used to think, knew as much as some folks.
He was now at the small, grated window of the cellar, crying and scratching at the earth, evidently trying to dig his way in to me.
His presence--even outside--comforted me, and a thought came to me. He had been taught to go to Uncle Will and others of the family, and perhaps he might be able to bring help. I called to him, and he responded joyfully. Then I gave him his order.
"Call Uncle Will!"
The faithful fellow did not want to leave me; he whined and cried, but I repeated the order in as stern a voice as I could manage.
"Call Uncle Will!" I ordered again and again, and at last he ran off.
Then I took hope and began to listen. If Uncle Will came near, I meant to call and scream to attract his attention.
But hours pa.s.sed; no one came--not even my dear Tony--and I heard noises and went mad again. I was getting exhausted, sitting uncomfortably on the top step of the stairs, and suffering such violent emotion.
Meanwhile there was excitement at Uncle Will"s over the strange conduct of the dog. He barked, and howled, and cried at the door, till Uncle Will got out of bed to quiet him. But he would not be quiet, nor go into the house for all the coaxing. He insisted on barking, running towards the gate, and then back in the most frantic way.
At last, after he had kept the family awake all night, when daylight began to dawn, Uncle Will decided to follow him to see if he could find what was the matter, though he was sure the poor fellow was raving mad.
The dog led him at once to the cellar window, where he dug at the earth, and whined and cried harder than ever. At first I did not hear him,--I think I had become unconscious,--but at last I did rouse myself enough to utter a scream which Uncle Will heard. He did not recognize my voice,--indeed he said afterwards that it sounded like nothing human,--but he resolved at any rate to see what it was.
He went to the kitchen door to unlock it, but the dog went wilder than ever, seeming to think I was behind that window. However, Uncle Will came in, and on his unlocking the cellar door, I fell on the floor in a heap, as if dead.
Uncle Will was awfully frightened; he took me up in his arms--big as I was--and ran with me back to his house, which was not far away.
It was hours before I was fully myself, months before I recovered from the illness caused by the cold I had taken, and years before I got back my courage and could bear to be alone--especially at night, when all the horrors of that time would come up before me as vividly as on that dreadful night.
"How dreadful!" said Kristy in a low tone, as Mrs. Wilson paused.
"I needn"t point the moral to you, Kristy," Mrs. Wilson said, "but I a.s.sure you I learned my lesson well; and that"s why I keep my dear little dog"s body in a gla.s.s case. I cherished him beyond everything as long as he lived, and couldn"t bear to give him up when he died at a good old age.
"Now," said Mrs. Wilson, "I must really go. It has stopped raining, Kristy, and I have paid mamma"s debt."