Hildegarde's Holiday Part 22

And beginning at the beginning, Hildegarde unfolded the great scheme.

Mrs. Brett listened, wide-eyed, following the recital with appreciative motions of lips and hands. When it was over, she seemed for once at a loss for words.

"I--well, there!" she said; and she crumpled up her ap.r.o.n, and then smoothed it out again. "I--why, I don't know what _to_ say. Well! I'm completely, as you may say, struck of a heap. I don't know what Marthy's thinking of, I'm sure. It isn't _me_ you want, surely. You want a woman with faculty!"

"Of course we do!" cried both girls, laughing. "That is why we have come to you."

"Sho!" said Mrs. Brett, crumpling her ap.r.o.n again, and trying not to look pleased. "Why, young ladies, I couldn't do it, no way in the world.

There's my chickens, you see, and my cow, let alone the house; not but what Joel (that's my nephew) would be glad enough to take keer of 'em.

And goin' so fur away, as you may say--though 't would be pleasant to be nigh Marthy--we was always friends, Marthy and me, since we was girls--and preserves to make, and fall cleanin' comin' on, and help so skurce as 'tis--why, I don't know what Marthy's thinkin' of, really I don't. Children, too! why, I do love children, and I shouldn't never think I had things comfortable enough for 'em; not but that's a lovely place, pretty as ever I see. I helped Marthy clean it one spring, and such a fancy as I took to that kitchen,--why, there! and the little room over it; I remember of saying to Marthy, says I, a woman might live happy in those two rooms, let alone the back yard, with all that nice fine gravel for the chickens, I says. But there! I couldn't do it, Miss Grahame, no way in the world. Why, I ain't got more'n half-a-dozen ap.r.o.ns to my back; so now you see!"

This last seemed such a very funny reason to give, that the three young people could not help laughing heartily.

"Martha has dozens and dozens of ap.r.o.ns, Mrs. Brett," said Hildegarde.

"She has a whole bureau full of them, because she is afraid her eyes may give out some day, and then she will not be able to make any more. And now, just think a moment!" She laid her hand on the good woman's arm, and continued in her most persuasive tones: "Think of living in that pleasant house, with the pretty room for your own, and the sunny kitchen, and the laundry, all under your own management."

"Set tubs!" said Mrs. Brett, in a pathetic parenthesis. "If there's one thing I've allers hankered after, more 'n another, it's a set tub!"

"And the dear little children playing about in the garden, and coming to you with flowers, and looking to you as almost a second mother--"

"Little Joel,"--cried the widow, putting her ap.r.o.n to her eyes, and beginning to rock gently to and fro--"I've allus felt that blessed child would ha' lived, if he'd ha' been left with me. There! Joel's been a good nephew, there couldn't no one have a better; but his wife and me, we never conjingled. She took the child away, and it peaked and pined from that day. Well, there! the ways are mysterious!"

"And you would take the chickens and the cow with you, of course," this artful girl went on; "for the children must have milk and eggs, and I never tasted more delicious milk than this of yours."

"I've no cause to be ashamed of the cow!" said the widow, still rocking.

"There isn't a cow equal to her round Marthy's way. I've heerd Marthy say so. Sixteen quarts she gives, and I do 'clare it's most half cream.

Jersey! there isn't many Jerseys round Marthy's way."

"And then the comfort you would be to Martha and to dear Miss Bond!"

Rose put in. "Martha has a good deal of rheumatism in winter, you know, and she says you are such a good nurse. She told me how you rubbed her in her rheumatic fever. She thinks you saved her life, and I am sure you did."

"If I rubbed Marthy Ellen Banks one foot, I rubbed her a hundred miles!"

said Mrs. Brett, with a faint gleam in her moist eyes. "'From her tombstun back to a well woman is a good way,' Dr. Jones says to me, 'and that way you've rubbed Marthy Ellen, Mis' Brett!' says he. Good man Dr.

Jones is,--none better! There isn't no one round Bixby can doctor my sciatica as he did when I was stayin' to Mis' Bond's last year. Mis'

Bond, too,--well, there! she was a mother to me. Seemed like 't was more home there than Bixby was, since little Joel died. Mysterious the ways is! Mr. Rawlins well?" she added, after a moment's pause.

"Mr.--Oh, Jeremiah!" cried Hildegarde, after a moment of bewilderment.

"Jeremiah is very well, all except a cough; and, dear me! Mrs. Brett, I haven't given you his message. 'Tell Mrs. Brett,' he said, almost the last thing before we came away this morning,--'tell Mrs. Brett she'll _have_ to come, to make me a treacle-posset for my cough. Not even Martha can make treacle-posset like hers!' Those were Jeremiah's very words, Mrs. Brett."

A faint color stole into the widow's thin cheeks. She sat up straight, and began to smooth out her ap.r.o.n. "Miss Grahame," she said emphatically, "I verily believe you could persuade a cat out of a bird's-nest. If it seems I'm really needed over to Bywood--I don't hardly know how I _can_ go--but--well, there! you've come so fur, and I do like to 'commodate; so--well, I don't really see how I can--but--I will!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

JOYOUS GARD.

It was the tenth day of September, and as pleasant a day as one could wish to see. The sun shone brightly everywhere; but Hildegarde thought that the laughing G.o.d sent his brightest golden rays down on the spot where she was standing. The House in the Wood no longer justified its name; for the trees had been cut away from around it,--only a few stately pines and ancient hemlocks remaining to mount guard over the cottage, and to make pleasant shady places on the wide, sunny lawns that stretched before and behind it. The brook no longer murmured unseen, but laughed now in the sunlight, and reflected every manner of pretty thing,--fleecy cloudlet, fluttering bird or b.u.t.terfly, nodding fern or soldierly "cat-tail."

The house itself looked alert and wide-awake, with all its windows thrown open, and its door standing hospitably ajar, as if awaiting welcome guests. From an upper window came a sound of singing, for Rose was there, arranging flowers in the vases; from another direction was heard the ring of a hammer, as Bubble gave the last strokes to a wonderful cart which he had been making, and which was to be his contribution to the Country Home.

Hildegarde stood on the piazza, alone; her hands were full of flowers, and the "laughing light" of them was reflected in her bright, lovely face. She looked about her on the sunny greenery, on the blue s.h.i.+ning stream, up to the bluer sky above. "This is the happiest day of my life!" said the girl, softly. She wondered what she had done, that all this joy and brightness should be hers. Every one was so good to her; every one had helped so kindly in the undertaking, from the beginning down to this happy end. There had been a good deal to be done, of course; but it seemed as if every hand had been outstretched to aid this work of her heart.

Cousin Wealthy, of course, had made it possible, and had been absorbed in it, heart and soul, as had all the others of the household. But there had also been so many pleasant tokens from outside. When Mrs. Brett arrived a week before, to take charge of the house, she brought a box of contributions from her neighbors in Bixby, to whom she had told the story of the Country Home,--sc.r.a.p-books, comforters, rag-babies, preserves, pop-corn, pincus.h.i.+ons, catsup, kettle-holders. Bixby had done what it could, and the girls and Miss Wealthy and Martha were delighted with everything; but there was much laughter when the widow pulled out a huge bottle of Vino's Vegetable Vivifier, and presented it, with a twinkle in her eye, as the gift of Mr. Cephas Colt. Nor had the scattered villagers of Bywood been less generous. One good farmer had brought a load of wood; another, some sacks of Early Rose potatoes; a third presented a jar of June b.u.t.ter; a fourth, some home-made maple-syrup. The wives and daughters had equalled those of Bixby in their gifts of useful trifles; and Rose, who was fond of details, calculated that there were two tidies for every chair in the house.

The boys of the neighborhood, who had at first shown a tendency to sit round on stumps and jeer at the proceedings, had now, at Hildegarde's suggestion, formed themselves into a Kindling-Wood Club, under Bubble's leaders.h.i.+p; and they split wood every afternoon for an hour, with such good results that Jeremiah reckoned they wouldn't need no coal round this place; they could burn kindlin's as reckless as if they was somebody's else hired gal!

Then, the day before, a great cart had rumbled up to the door, bringing a packing-case, of a shape which made Hildegarde cry out, and clap her hands, and say, "Papa! I _know_ it is Papa!"--which for the moment greatly disconcerted the teamster, who had no idea of carrying people's papas round in boxes. But when the case was opened, there was the prettiest upright piano that ever was seen; and sure enough, a note inside the cover said that this was "for Hildegarde's Hobby, from Hildegarde's Poppy." But more than that! the s.p.a.ce between the piano and the box was completely filled with picture-books,--layers and layers of them; Walter Crane, and Caldecott, and Gordon Browne, and all the most delightful picture-books in the world. And in each book was written "The Rainy-Day Library;" which when Hildegarde saw, she began to cry, and said that her mother was the most blessed creature in the world.

But after all, the thing that had touched the girl's heart most deeply was the arrival, this very morning, of old Galusha Pennypacker, shuffling along with his stick, and bent almost double under the weight of a great sack which he carried on his back. Mrs. Brett had been looking out of the window, and announced that a crazy man was coming: "Looks like it, anyway. Hadn't I better call Zee-rubble, Miss Grahame?"

But Hildegarde looked out, recognized the old man, and flew to meet him.

"Good-morning, Mr. Pennypacker!" she cried cordially. "Do let me help you with that heavy bag! There! now sit down here in the shade, for I am sure you are very tired."

She brought a chair quickly; and the old man sank into it, for he was indeed exhausted by the long walk under his heavy burden. He gasped painfully for breath; and it was not till Hildegarde had brought him water, and fanned him diligently for some minutes, that he was able to speak.

"Thank ye!" he said at last, drawing out something that might once have been a handkerchief, and wiping his wrinkled face. "It's a warm day--for walkin'."

"Yes, indeed it is!" Hildegarde a.s.sented. "And it is a long walk from your house, Mr. Pennypacker. I fear it has been too much for you. Could you not have got one of the neighbors to give you a lift?"

"No! no!" replied the old man quickly, with a cunning gleam in his sharp little eyes. "I'd ruther walk,--I'd ruther! Walkin' don't cost nothin'! They'd charged me, like's not, a quarter for fetchin' on me here. They think the old man's got money, but he hain't; no, he hain't got one red cent,--not for them he hain't." He paused, and began fumbling at the string of the sack. "Hearin' you was settin' up a horspittle here," he said, "I cal'lated to bring two or three apples.

Children likes apples, don't they?" He looked up suddenly, with the same fierce gleam which had frightened Hildegarde and Rose so when they first saw him; but Hildegarde had no longer any fear of the singular old man.

"Yes, they do!" she said warmly. "I don't know of anything they like so well, Mr. Pennypacker. How very kind of you! And you came all this way on foot, to bring them?"

"The' warn't no shorter way!" replied old Galusha, dryly. "Thar'! I reckon them's good apples."

They were superb Red Astrakhans; every one, so far as Hildegarde could see, perfect in shape and beauty. Moreover, they had all been polished till they shone mirror-like. Hildegarde wondered what they had been rubbed with, but dismissed the thought, as one unwise to dwell upon.

"They's wuth money, them apples!" said the old man, after she had thanked him again and again for the timely gift. "Money!" he repeated, lingering on the word, as if it were pleasant to the taste. "Huh! there ain't n.o.body else on the yearth I'd ha' give so much as a core of one of 'em to, 'cept you, young woman."

"I'm sure you are extremely kind, Mr. Pennypacker!" was all Hildegarde could say.

"Ye've took thought for me!" said the old man. "The' ain't n.o.body took thought for old G'lushe Pennypacker, round here, not for a good while.

Ye was to my place yesterday, warn't ye?" He looked up again, with a sudden glare.

"Yes," Hildegarde admitted, "I was; and my friend too. She knit the stockings for you, sir. I hope you liked them."

"Yes, yes!" said the old man, absently. "Good stockin's, good stockin's!

Nice gal she is too. But--'t was you left the book, warn't it, hey?"

"Yes," said Hildegarde, blus.h.i.+ng. "I am so fond of 'Robinson Crusoe'

myself, I thought you might like it too."

"Hain't seen that book for fifty year!" said the old man. "Sot up all last night readin' it. It'll be comp'ny to me all winter. And you--you took thought on me!--a young, fly-away, handsome gal, and old G'lushe Pennypacker! Wal, 't won't be forgot here, nor yet yender!"

He gave an upward jerk of his head, and then pa.s.sed his rag of a handkerchief over his face again, and said he must be going. But he did not go till he had had a gla.s.s of milk, and half-a-dozen of Mrs. Brett's doughnuts, to strengthen him for his homeward walk.