"Oh, yes!" she replied. "In winter, of course, I can"t go out; and sometimes it seems a little long, when Bubble is away all day,--not very, you know, but just a little. But in summer, oh, then I am so happy! I can go all round the place by myself, and sit out in the garden, and feed the chickens, and take care of the flowers. And then on Sunday Bubble always gives me a good ride along the road. My chair moves very easily,--only see!" She gave a little push, and propelled herself half way across the little room.
At this moment the inner door opened, and Mrs. Chirk appeared,--a slender, anxious-looking woman, with hair prematurely gray. She greeted Hilda with nervous cordiality, and thanked her earnestly for her kindness to Zerubbabel. "He ain"t the same boy, Miss Graham," she said, "sence you begun givin" him lessons. He used to fret and worrit "cause there 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" poetry at the top of his lungs,--jest as happy as a kitten with a spool. What was that he was shoutin" this mornin", Pinkrosia, when he scairt the old black hen nigh to death?"
""Charge for the golden lilies! Upon them with the lance!"" murmured Pink, with a smile.
"Yes, that was it!" said Mrs. Chirk. "He was lookin" out of the window and pumpin" at the same time, an" spoutin" them verses too. And all of a sudden he cries out, "Ther"s the brood of dark My Hen, scratchin" up the sweet 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 and makin" 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," said Hilda; "but it must have been extremely funny. Poor old hen! she must have been frightened, certainly. Do you know," she added, "I think Bubble is a _remarkably_ bright boy. I am very sure that he will make a name for himself, if only he can have proper training."
"Presume likely!" said Mrs. Chirk, with melancholy satisfaction. "His father was a _real_ smart man. There warn"t no better hayin" hand in the county 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 a better."
Eminence in the profession of "haying" was not precisely what Hilda had meant; but she said nothing.
"And my poor girl here," Mrs. Chirk continued after a pause, "she sets in 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 contracted slightly, as if with pain. "Oh, yes, Mother dear!" she said; "Miss Graham has heard all about me, and knows what a _very_ important person I am. But where is the yarn that I was to wind for you? I thought you wanted to begin weaving this afternoon."
"Oh!" exclaimed Hildegarde. "Never mind the yarn just now, Pink! I want to 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," she said, "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 it dusty on the wheel, I"m afraid. I don"t think--"
"Oh yes, you do!" cried Hilda, gayly, pushing the chair towards the door. "Bring her hat, please, Mrs. Chirk. I always have my own way!" she added, with a touch of the old imperiousness, "and I have quite set my heart on this."
Mrs. Chirk meekly brought a straw sun-bonnet, and Hilda tied its strings under Pink"s chin, every fibre within her mutely protesting against its extreme ugliness. "She shall not wear _that_ again," said she to herself, "if I can help it." But the sweet pale face looked out so joyously from the dingy yellow tunnel that the stern young autocrat relented. "After all, what does it matter?" she thought. "She would look like an angel, even with a real coal-scuttle on her head." And then she laughed at the thought of a black j.a.panned scuttle crowning those fair locks; and Pink laughed because Hilda laughed; and so they both went laughing out into the sunshine.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE LETTER.
"Nurse Lucy," said Hildegarde that evening, as they sat in the porch after tea, "why have you never told me about Pink Chirk,--about her being a cripple, I mean? I had no idea of it till I went to see her to-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 was like other people. She is a dear, good child,--his "sermon," Jacob calls her. He says that whenever he feels impatient or put out, he likes to go down and look at Pink, and hear her talk. "It takes the crook right out of me!" he says. Poor Jacob!"
"But how did it happen?" asked Hilda. "She says she was only three years when she--Oh, think of it, Nurse Lucy! It is too dreadful. Tell me how it happened."
"Don"t ask me, my dear!" said Dame Hartley, sadly. "Why should you hear anything so painful? It would only haunt your mind as it haunted mine for years after. The worst of it was, there was no need of it. Her mother was a young, flighty, careless girl, and she didn"t look after her baby as she should have done. That is all you need know, Hilda, my dear! Poor Susan Chirk! it took the flightiness out of her, and made her the anxious, melancholy soul she has been ever since. Then Bubble was born, and soon after her husband died, and since then she has had a hard time 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 could from time to time."
Dame Hartley might have said that she and her husband had kept this desolate widow and her children from starvation through many a long winter, and had given her the means of earning her daily bread in summer; had clothed the children, and provided comforts for the crippled girl. But this was not Nurse Lucy"s way. The neighbors had done what they 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 to work by the day; and so they were really getting on very well,--better than one could have hoped.
Hildegarde laid her head against the good Dame"s shoulder and fell into a brown study. Nurse Lucy seemed also in a thoughtful mood; and so the two sat quietly in the soft twilight till the red glow faded in the west, and left in its stead a single star, gleaming like a living jewel in the purple sky. All the birds were asleep save the untiring whippoorwill, who presented his plea for the castigation of the unhappy William with ceaseless energy. A little night-breeze came up, and said pleasant, soft things to the leaves, which rustled gently in reply, and the crickets gave their usual evening concert, beginning with a movement in G sharp, _allegro con moto_. Other sound there was none, until by and by the noise of wheels was heard, and the click of old Nancy"s hoofs; and out of the gathering darkness Farmer Hartley appeared, just returned from the village, whither he had gone to make arrangements about selling his hay.
"Wal, Marm Lucy," he said, cheerfully, throwing the reins on Nancy"s neck and jumping from the wagon, "is that you settin" thar? "Pears to me I see somethin" like a white apun gloomin" out o" the dark."
"Yes, Jacob," answered "Marm Lucy," "I am here, and so is Hilda. The evening has been so lovely, we have not had the heart to light the lamps, but have just been sitting here watching the sunset. We"ll come in now, though," she added, leading the way into the house. "You"ll be wanting 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 me some supper, though she warn"t in no mood for seein" comp"ny, even her own kin. Poor Sary! she was in a dretful takin", sure enough!"
"Why, what was the matter?" asked Dame Hartley, as she trimmed and lighted the great lamp, and drew the short curtains of Turkey red cotton across the windows. "Is Abner sick again!"
"Shouldn"t wonder if he was, by this time," replied the farmer; "but he warn"t at the beginnin" of it. I"ll tell ye how "twas;" and he sat down in his great leather chair, and stretched his legs out comfortably before him, while his wife filled his pipe and brought it to him,--a little attention which she never forgot. "Sary, she bought a new bunnit yisterday!" Farmer Hartley continued, puffing away at the pipe. "She"s kind o" savin", ye know, Sary is [Nurse Lucy nodded, with a knowing air], and she hadn"t had a new bunnit for ten years. (I d" "no" "s she"s had one for twenty!" he added in parenthesis; "_I_ never seed her with one to my knowledge.) Wal, the gals was pesterin" her, an" sayin" she didn"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 newfangled shapes. What was it Lizy called it? Somethin" Chinese, I reckon. Fan Song! 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, Fan Chong,--wal, what"s the odds? "Twas a queer lookin" thing, anyhow, I sh"d think, even afore it-- Wal, I"m comin" to that. Sary showed it to the gals, and they liked it fust-rate; then she laid it on the kitchen table, an" went upstairs to git some ribbons an" stuff to put on it.
She rummaged round consid"able upstairs, an" when she k.u.m down, lo and behold, 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" hidden it for fun. But they hadn"t, an" they all set to an" sarched the house from garrit to cellar; but they didn"t find hide nor hair o" that bunnit. At last Sary give it up, an" sot down out o" breath, an" mad enough to eat somebody. "It"s been stole!" says she. "Some ornery critter 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 hold of 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 all about 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 me laugh to think on"t,--"Sary," says he, "I wouldn"t buy no more baskets without handles, ef I was you. They ain"t convenient to kerry," says he. And with that he sets down on the table--that Fan Chong bunnit! He"d been 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, from the looks of it: you never seed sech a lookin" thing in all your born days as that bunnit was. Sary, she looked at it, and then she looked at Abner, 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 your old cat say when Spot caught hold of her tail the other day? An" yet there was language enough in what Sary said. I tell ye the hull dictionary was flyin" round that room for about ten minutes,--Webster"s Unabridged, an" nothin" less. An" Abner, he jest stood thar, bobbin" his head up an" down, and openin" an" shettin" his mouth, as if he"d like to say somethin" if he could get a chance. But when Sary was so out of breath 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"ll go out an" take a look at the stock," says he, "and come back when you"re feelin" calmer." An" he nods to me, an" out we both goes, before Sary could git her breath agin. I didn"t say nothin", "cause I was laughin" 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 he said, "The tongue is a onruly member, Jacob! I _thought_ that was kind of a curus lookin" basket, though!" and that was every word he said about it."
"Oh, what delightfully funny people!" cried Hilda. "What did the wife say when you came in to supper, Farmer Hartley?"
"She warn"t thar," replied the farmer. "She had a headache, the gals said, and had gone to bed. I sh"d think she _would_ have had a headache,--but thar," he added, rising suddenly and beginning to search in his capacious pockets, "I declar" for "t, if I hain"t forgotten Huldy"s letter! Sary an" her bunnit put everything else out of my head."
Hilda sprang up in delight to receive the envelope which the farmer handed to her; but her face fell a little when she saw that it was not from her parents. She reflected, however, that she had had a double letter only two days before, and that she could not expect another for a week, as Mr. and Mrs. Graham wrote always with military punctuality.
There was no doubt as to the authorship of the letter. The delicate pointed handwriting, the tiny seal of gilded wax, the faint perfume which the missive exhaled, all said to her at once, "Madge Everton."
With a feeling which, if not quite reluctance, was still not quite alacrity, Hildegarde broke the pretty seal, with its Cupid holding a rose 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, pa.s.ses 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 a.s.sure 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 a.s.sociate 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 a 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.