QUEEN HILDEGARDE

BOOKS BY LAURA E. RICHARDS

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THE HILDEGARDE SERIES

Queen Hildegarde

A STORY FOR GIRLS

BY

LAURA E. RICHARDS

Author of

"The Margaret Series," "The HildegardeSeries," "Captain January," "Melody,""Five Minute Stories," etc.

ILLUSTRATED

THE PAGE COMPANY BOSTON .PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1889, by THE PAGECOMPANY 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 DESPAIR49

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 LONGCHEVAL-GLASS" (See page 32)Frontispiece

"SHE PUSHED THE BUSHESASIDE AND CAME TOWARDSHIM" 47

"SHE BENT IN REAL DISTRESSOVER THE CURRANTS" 89

"SHE FLUNG THE CORN INGOLDEN SHOWERS ON THEIRHEADS" 117

"THE PALE GIRL MADE NOATTEMPT TO RISE" 155

"'SAY, MISS HILDY, DO YOU LIKEPURPS '" 205

"EACH TOOK A SKIMMER ANDSET EARNESTLY TO WORK" 227

"'TAKE IT AND OPEN IT!'" 267

QUEEN HILDEGARDE.

CHAPTER I.

HILDEGARDIS GRAHAM.

"And have you decided what is tobecome of Hilda " asked Mrs. Graham.

"Hilda " replied her husband, in a toneof surprise, "Hilda why, she will gowith us, of course. What else shouldbecome of the child She will enjoy thetrip immensely, I have no doubt."

Mrs. Graham sighed and shook herhead. "I fear that is impossible, dearGeorge!" she said. "To tell the truth, Iam a little anxious about Hilda; she isnot at all well. I don't mean that she is

actually ill," she added quickly, as Mr.Graham looked up in alarm, "but sheseems languid and dispirited, has noappetite, and is inclined to be fretful, anunusual thing for her."

"Needs a change!" said Mr. Graham,shortly. "Best thing for her. Beenstudying too hard, I suppose, andeating caramels. If I could discover theman who invented that pernicioussweetmeat, I would have him hanged!hanged, madam!"

"Oh, no, you wouldn't, dear!" said hiswife, laughing softly; "I think his lifewould be quite safe. But about Hildanow! She does need a change, certainly;

but is the overland journey in July justthe right kind of change for her, doyou think "

Mr. Graham frowned, ran his fingersthrough his hair, drummed on thetable, and then considered his bootsattentively. "Well no!" he said at last,reluctantly. "I suppose not. But whatcan we do with her Send her to Fredand 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. "Certainlynot."

"Aunt Emily is going to themountains," suggested Mr. Graham,doubtfully.

"Yes," replied his wife, "with sixteentrunks, a maid, a footman, and threelapdogs! That would never do for Hilda."

"You surely are not thinking of leavingher alone here with the servants "

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 andflung out both arms in a mannerpeculiar to him when excited. "Now,

now, now, Mildred!" he saidimpressively, "I have always said thatyou were a good woman, and I shallcontinue to assert the same; but youhave powers of tormenting that couldnot be surpassed by the most heartlessof your sex. It is perfectly clear, even tomy darkened mind, that you have someplan for Hilda fully matured andarranged in that scheming little head ofyours; so what is your object in keepingme longer in suspense Out with it,now! What are you for of course I amin reality only a cipher (a tolerably largecipher) in the sum what are you, thecommander-in-chief, going to do withHilda, the lieutenant-general If you willkindly inform the orderly-sergeant, he

will act accordingly, and endeavor to dohis duty."

Pretty Mrs. Graham laughed again, andlooked up at the six-feet-two of sturdymanhood standing on the hearth-rug,gazing at her with eyes which twinkledmerrily under the fiercely frowningbrows. "You are a very disorderly-sergeant, dear!" she said. "Just look atyour hair! It looks as if all the fourwinds had been blowing through it "

"Instead of all the ten fingers goingthrough it," interrupted her husband."Never mind my hair; that is not thepoint. What do you propose to do withyour daughter Hildegarde, or

Hildegardis, as it should properly bewritten "

"Well, dear George," said thecommander-in-chief (she was a verysmall woman and a very pretty one,though she had a daughter "older thanherself," as her husband said; and shewore a soft lilac gown, and had soft,wavy brown hair, and was altogethervery pleasant to look at) "well, dearGeorge, the truth is, I have a little plan,which I should like very much to carryout, 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 I approve ornot."

So saying, the good-natured giant sathimself down again, and listened whilehis wife unfolded her plan; and whatthe plan was, we shall see by and by.Meanwhile let us take a peep at Hilda,or Hildegardis, as she sits in her ownroom, all unconscious of the plotwhich is hatching in the parlor below.She is a tall girl of fifteen. Probably shehas attained her full height, for shelooks as if she had been growing toofast; her form is slender, her face pale,with a weary look in the large gray eyes.It is a delicate, high-bred face, with apretty nose, slightly "tip-tilted," and a

beautiful mouth; but it is half-spoiledby the expression, which isdiscontented, if not actually peevish. Ifwe lifted the light curling locks of fairhair which lie on her forehead, weshould see a very decided frown on abroad white space which ought to beabsolutely smooth. Why should a girlof fifteen frown, especially a girl so"exceptionally fortunate" as all herfriends considered Hilda GrahamCertainly her surroundings at thismoment are pretty enough to satisfyany girl. The room is not large, but ithas a sunny bay-window which seemsto increase its size twofold. In re-furnishing it a year before, her fatherhad in mind Hilda's favorite flower, the

forget-me-not, and the room is simply abower of forget-me-nots. Scatteredover the dull olive ground of thecarpet, clustering and nodding from thewall-paper, peeping from the folds ofthe curtains, the forget-me-nots areeverywhere. Even the creamy surface ofthe toilet-jug and bowl, even the ivorybacks of the brushes that lie on theblue-covered toilet table, bear each itscluster of pale-blue blossoms; whilethe low easy-chair in which the girl isreclining, and the pretty sofa with itsplump cushions inviting to repose,repeat the same tale. The tale is againrepeated, though in a different way, by ascroll running round the top of thewall, on which in letters of blue and

gold is written at intervals: "Nem'oubliez pas!" "Vergiss mein nicht!""Non ti scordar!" and the samesentiment is repeated in Spanish, Latin,Greek, and Hebrew, of all whichtongues the fond father possessedknowledge.

Is not this indeed a bower, wherein agirl ought to be happy the bird in thewindow thinks his blue and gold cagethe finest house in the world, and singsas heartily and cheerily as if he hadbeen in the wide green forest; but hismistress does not sing. She sits in theeasy-chair, with a book upside-down inher lap, and frowns, actually frowns, ina forget-me-not bower! There is not

much the matter, really. Her head aches,that is all. Her German lesson has beenlonger and harder than usual, and herfather was quite right about thecaramels; there is a box of them on thetable now, within easy reach of the slimwhite hand with its forget-me-not ringof blue turquoises. (I do not altogetheragree with Mr. Graham about hangingthe caramel-maker, but I should heartilylike to burn all his wares. Fancy a greatmountain of caramels and chocolate-creams and marrons glaces piled up inUnion Square, for example, and blazingaway merrily, that is, if the things wouldburn, which is more than doubtful.How the maidens would weep andwring their hands while the heartless

parents chuckled and fed the flameswith all the precious treasures ofMaillard and Huyler! Ah! it is a pleasantthought, for I who write this am aheartless parent, do you see )

As I said before, Hilda had nosuspicion of the plot which her parentswere concocting. She knew that herfather was obliged to go to SanFrancisco, being called suddenly toadminister the estate of a cousin whohad recently died there, and that hermother and as she supposed herselfwere going with him to offer sympathyand help to the widow, an invalid withthree little children. As to the idea ofher being left behind; of her father's

starting off on a long journey withouthis lieutenant-general; of her mother'sparting from her only child, whom shehad watched with tender care andanxiety since the day of her birth, sucha thought never came into Hilda'smind. Wherever her parents went shewent, as a matter of course. So it hadalways been, and so without doubt italways would be. She did not carespecially about going to California atthis season of the year, in fact she hadtold her bosom friend, Madge Everton,only the day before, that it was "rather abore," and that she should havepreferred to go to Newport. "But whatwould you " she added, with theslightest shrug of her pretty shoulders.

"Papa and mamma really must go, itappears; so of course I must go too."

"A bore!" repeated Madge energetically,replying to the first part of her friend'sremarks. "Hilda, what a very singular girlyou are! Here I, or Nelly, or any of theother girls would give both our ears,and our front teeth too, to make such atrip; and just because you can go, you sitthere and call it 'a bore!'" And Madgeshook her black curls, and opened wideeyes of indignation and wonder at ourungrateful heroine. "I only wish," sheadded, "that you and I could bechanged into each other, just for thissummer."

"I wish " began Hilda; but she checkedherself in her response to the wish, asthe thought of Madge's five brothersrose in her mind (Hilda could notendure boys!), looked attentively at thetoe of her little bronze slipper for a fewmoments, and then changed the subjectby proposing a walk. "Console yourselfwith the caramels, my fiery Madge," shesaid, pushing the box across the table,"while I put on my boots. We will go toMaillard's and get some more while weare out. His caramels are decidedlybetter than Huyler's; don't you thinkso!"

A very busy woman was pretty Mrs.Graham during the next two weeks.

First she made an expedition into thecountry "to see an old friend," she said,and was gone two whole days. Andafter that she was out every morning,driving hither and thither, from shop todressmaker, from dressmaker tomilliner, from milliner to shoemaker.

"It is a sad thing," Mr. Graham wouldsay, when his wife fluttered in to lunch,breathless and exhausted and half anhour late (she, the most punctual ofwomen!), "it is a sad thing to havemarried a comet by mistake, thinking itwas a woman. How did you find theother planets this morning, my dear Isit true that Saturn has lost one of hisrings and has the Sun recovered from

his last attack of spots I really fear," hewould add, turning to Hilda, "that thispreternatural activity in your comet-parent portends some alarming changein the a atmospheric phenomena, mychild. I would have you on yourguard!" and then he would look at herand sigh, shake his head, and applyhimself to the cold chicken withmelancholy vigor.

Hilda thought nothing of her father'sremarks, papa was always talkingnonsense, and she thought she alwaysunderstood him perfectly. It did occurto her, however, to wonder at hermother's leaving her out on all hershopping expeditions. Hilda rather

prided herself on her skill in matchingshades and selecting fabrics, andmamma was generally glad of herassistance in all such matters. However,perhaps it was only under-clothing andhouse-linen, and such things that shewas buying. All that was the prosy partof shopping. It was the poetry of itthat Hilda loved, the shimmer of silkand satin, the rich shadows in velvet,the cool, airy fluttering of lawn andmuslin and lace. So the girl went on herusual way, finding life a little dull, alittle tiresome, and most people ratherstupid, but everything on the wholemuch as usual, if her head only wouldnot ache so; and it was without ashadow of suspicion that she obeyed

one morning her mother's summons tocome and see her in her dressing-room.

Mr. Graham always spoke of his wife'sdressing-room as "the citadel." It wasabsolutely impregnable, he said. In theopen field of the drawing-room or thebroken country of the dining-room itmight be possible he had never knownsuch a thing to occur, but still it mightbe possible for the commander-in-chief to sustain a defeat; but onceintrenched behind the walls of thecitadel, horse, foot, and dragoons mightstorm and charge upon her, but theycould not gain an inch. Not an inch, sir!True it was that Mrs. Graham alwaysfelt strongest in this particular room.

She laughed about it, butacknowledged the fact. Here, on thewall, hung a certain picture which wasalways an inspiration to her. Here, onthe shelf above her desk, were thebooks of her heart, the few triedfriends to whom she turned for helpand counsel when things puzzled her.(Mrs. Graham was never disheartened.She didn't believe there was such aword. She was only "puzzled"sometimes, until she saw her way andher duty clear before her, and then shewent straight forward, over a mountainor through a stone wall, as the casemight be.) Here, in the drawer of herlittle work-table, were some relics, a tiny,half-worn shoe, a little doll, a sweet

baby face laughing from an ivory frame:the insignia of her rank in the greatorder of sorrowing mothers; and these,perhaps, gave her that great sympathyand tenderness for all who were introuble which drew all sad heartstowards her.

And so, on this occasion, the littlewoman had sat for a few momentslooking at the pictured face on the wall,with its mingled majesty and sweetness;had peeped into the best-beloved of allbooks, and said a little prayer, as washer wont when "puzzled," before shesent the message to Hilda, for she knewthat she must sorely hurt and grieve thechild who was half the world to her;

and though she did not flinch from thetask, she longed for strength andwisdom to do it in the kindest andwisest way.

"Hilda, dear," she said gently, when theywere seated together on the sofa, handin hand, with each an arm round theother's waist, as they loved best to sit,"Hilda, dear, I have something to saythat will not please you; something thatmay even grieve you very much at first."She paused, and Hilda rapidly reviewedin her mind all the possibilities that shecould think of. Had anything happenedto the box of French dresses which wason its way from Paris Had a carelessservant broken the glass of her fernery

again Had Aunt Emily been sayingdisagreeable things about her, as shewas apt to do She was about to speak,but at that moment, like a thunderbolt,the next words struck her ear: "We havedecided not to take you with us toCalifornia." Amazed, wounded,indignant, Hilda could only lift hergreat gray eyes to meet the soft violetones which, full of unshed tears, werefixed tenderly upon her. Mrs. Grahamcontinued: "Your father and I both feel,my darling, that this long, fatiguingjourney, in the full heat of summer,would be the worst possible thing foryou. You have not been very well lately,and it is most important that youshould lead a quiet, regular, healthy life

for the next few months. We havetherefore made arrangements to leaveyou "

But here Hilda could control herselfno longer. "Mamma! mamma!" shecried. "How can you be so unkind, socruel Leave me you and papa bothWhy, I shall die! Of course I shall die,all alone in this great house. I thoughtyou loved me!" and she burst into tears,half of anger, half of grief, andsobbed bitterly.

"Dear child!" said Mrs. Graham,smoothing the fair hair lovingly, "if youhad heard me out, you would have seenthat we had no idea of leaving you

alone, or of leaving you in this houseeither. You are to stay with "

"Not with Aunt Emily!" cried the girl,springing to her feet with flashing eyes."Mamma, I would rather beg in thestreets than stay with Aunt Emily. She isa detestable, ill-natured, selfishwoman."

"Hildegarde," said Mrs. Grahamgravely, "be silent!" There was amoment of absolute stillness, brokenonly by the ticking of the little crystalclock on the mantelpiece, and then Mrs.Graham continued: "I must ask younot to speak again, my daughter, until Ihave finished what I have to say; and

even then, I trust you will keep silenceuntil you are able to command yourself.You are to stay with my old nurse, Mrs.Hartley, at her farm near Glenfield. Sheis a very kind, good woman, and willtake the best possible care of you. Iwent to the farm myself last week, andfound it a lovely place, with everycomfort, though no luxuries, save thegreat one of a free, healthy, natural life.There, my Hilda, we shall leave you,sadly indeed, and yet feeling that youare in good and loving hands. And Ifeel very sure," she added in a lightertone, "that by the time we return, youwill be a rosy-cheeked country lass,strong and hearty, with no morethought of headaches, and no wrinkle

in your forehead." As she ceasedspeaking, Mrs. Graham drew the girlclose to her, and kissed the white browtenderly, murmuring: "God bless mydarling daughter! If she knew how hermother's heart aches at parting withher!" But Hilda did not know. She wastoo angry, too bewildered, too deeplyhurt, to think of any one except herself.She felt that she could not trust herselfto speak, and it was in silence, andwithout returning her mother's caress,that she rose and sought her ownroom.

Mrs. Graham looked after her wistfully,tenderly, but made no effort to call herback. The tears trembled in her soft

blue eyes, and her lip quivered as sheturned to her work-table; but she saidquietly to herself: "Solitude is a goodmedicine. The child will do well, and Iknow that I have chosen wisely forher."

Bitter tears did Hildegarde shed as sheflung herself face downward on herown blue sofa. Angry thoughts surgedthrough her brain. Now she burnedwith resentment at the parents whocould desert her, their only child; nowshe melted into pity for herself, andwept more and more as she picturedthe misery that lay before her. To be leftalone alone! on a squalid, wretched farm,with a dirty old woman, a woman who

had been a servant, she, HildegardisGraham, the idol of her parents, thequeen of her "set" among the youngpeople, the proudest and mostexclusive girl in New York, as she hadonce (and not with displeasure) heardherself called!

What would Madge Everton, whatwould all the girls say! How they wouldlaugh, to hear of Hilda Graham livingon a farm among pigs and hens anddirty people! Oh! it was intolerable; andshe sprang up and paced the floor, withburning cheeks and flashing eyes.

The thought of opposing the plan didnot occur to her. Mrs. Graham's rule,

gentle though it was, was not of theflabby, nor yet of the elastic sort. Herdecisions were not hastily arrived at;but once made, they were final andabiding. "You might just as well try tooppose the Gulf Stream!" Mr. Grahamwould say. "They do it sometimes withicebergs, and what is the result In a fewdays the great clumsy things are bowingand scraping and turning somersaults,and fairly jostling each other in theireagerness to obey the guidance of theinsidious current. Insidious Current,will you allow a cup of coffee to driftin my direction I shall be only toohappy to turn a somersault if it willafford you thanks! the smallestgratification."

So Hildegarde's first lessons had beenin obedience and in truthfulness; andthese were fairly well learned before shebegan her ABC. And so she knew now,that she might storm and weep as shewould in her own room, but that thedecree was fixed, and that unless theskies fell, her summer would be passedat Hartley's Glen.

CHAPTER II.

DAME AND FARMER.

When the first shock was over, Hilda

was rather glad than otherwise to learnthat there was to be no delay in carryingout the odious plan. "The sooner thebetter," she said to herself. "I certainlydon't want to see any of the girls again,and the first plunge will be the worst ofit."

"What clothes am I to take " she askedher 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 have only topack your dressing-bag, to be all readyfor the start to-morrow. See, here is

your trunk, locked and strapped, andwaiting for the porter's shoulder;" andshe showed Hilda a stout, substantial-looking trunk, bearing the initials H.G.

"But, mamma," Hilda began,wondering greatly, "my dresses are allhanging in my wardrobe."

"Not all of them, dear!" said hermother, smiling. "Hark! papa is callingyou. Make haste and go down, fordinner is ready."

Wondering more and more, Hildegardemade a hasty toilet, putting on thepretty pale blue cashmere dress whichher father specially liked, with silk

stockings to match, and dainty slippersof bronze kid. As she clasped thenecklace of delicate blue and silverVenetian beads which completed thecostume, she glanced into the longcheval-glass which stood between thewindows, and could not help giving alittle approving nod to her reflection.Though not a great beauty, Hildegardewas certainly a remarkably pretty andeven distinguished-looking girl; and"being neither blind nor a fool," shesoliloquized, "where is the harm inacknowledging it " But the nextmoment the thought came: "Whatdifference will it make, in a stupidfarm-house, whether I am pretty or notI might as well be a Hottentot!" and

with the "quiet and cold" lookdarkening over her face, she wentslowly down stairs.

Her father met her with a kiss and claspof the hand even warmer than usual.

"Well, General!" he said, in a voicewhich insisted upon being cheery,"marching orders, eh Marching orders!Break up camp! boot, saddle, to horseand away! Forces to march in differentdirections, by order of the commander-in-chief." But the next moment headded, in an altered tone: "My girl,mamma knows best; remember that!She is right in this move, as shegenerally is. Cheer up, darling, and let

us make the last evening a happy one!"

Hilda tried to smile, for who could beangry with papa She made a little effort,and the father and mother made a greatone, how great she could not know; andso the evening passed, better thanmight have been expected.

The evening passed, and the night, andthe next day came; and it was likewaking from a strange dream whenHilda found herself in a railway train,with her father sitting beside her, andher mother's farewell kiss yet warm onher cheek, speeding over the opencountry, away from home and all thatshe held most dear. Her dressing-bag,

with her umbrella neatly strapped to it,was in the rack overhead, the check forher trunk in her pocket. Could it all betrue She tried to listen while her fathertold her of the happy days he hadspent on his grandfather's farm whenhe was a boy; but the interest was notreal, and she found it hard to fix hermind on what he was saying. What didshe care about swinging on gates, orclimbing apple-trees, or riding unrulycolts! She was not a boy, nor even atomboy. When he spoke of the delightsof walking in the country throughwoodland and meadow, her thoughtsstrayed to Fifth Avenue, with its throngof well-dressed people, the glitteringequipages rolling by, the stately houses

on either side, through whose shiningwindows one caught glimpses of thesplendors within; and to the Park, withits shady alleys and well-kept lawns.Could there be any walking sodelightful as that which these affordedSurely not! Ah! Madge and Helen wereprobably just starting for their walknow. Did they know of her banishmentwould they laugh at the thought ofQueen Hildegardis vegetating for threemonths at a wretched

"Glenfield!" The brakeman's voice rangclear and sharp through the car. Hildastarted, and seized her father's handconvulsively.

"Papa!" she whispered, "O papa! don'tleave me here; take me home! I cannotbear it!"

"Come, my child!" said Mr. Graham,speaking low, and with an odd catch inhis voice; "that is not the way to go intoaction. Remember, this is your firstbattle. So, eyes front! charge bayonets!quick step! forward, march!"

The train had stopped. They were onthe platform. Mr. Graham led Hilda upto a stout, motherly-looking woman,who held out her hand with a beamingsmile.

"Here is my daughter, Mrs. Hartley!" he

said, hastily. "You will take good careof her, I know. My darling, good-by! Igo on to Dashford, and home byreturn train in an hour. God bless you,my Hilda! Courage! Up, Guards, and atthem! Remember Waterloo!" and hewas gone. The engine shrieked anunearthly "Good-by!" and the trainrumbled away, leaving Hilda gazingafter it through a mist which only herstrong will prevented from dissolvingin tears.

"Well, my dear," said Dame Hartley'scheery voice, "your papa's gone, andyou must not stand here and fret afterhim. Here is old Nancy shaking herhead, and wondering why she does not

get home to her dinner. Do you get intothe cart, and I will get the station-master to put your trunk in for us."

Hilda obeyed in silence; and climbinginto the neat wagon, took her seat andlooked about her while Dame Hartleybustled off in search of the station-master. There was not very much tolook at at Glenfield station. The lowwooden building with its long platformstood on a bare spot of ground, fromwhich the trees all stood back, as if tomark their disapproval of the railwayand all that belonged to it. The sandysoil made little attempt to producevegetation, but put out little humps ofrock occasionally, to show what it

could do. Behind, a road led off intothe woods, hiding itself behind thelow-hanging branches of chestnut andmaple, ash and linden trees. That wasall. Now that the train was gone, thesilence was unbroken save by theimpatient movements of the old whitemare as she shook the flies off andrattled the jingling harness.

Hilda was too weary to think. She hadslept little the night before, and thesuddenness of the recent changesconfused her mind and made her feelas if she were some one else, and notherself at all. She sat patiently, countinghalf-unconsciously each quiver ofNancy's ears. But now Dame Hartley

came bustling back with the station-master, and between the two, Hilda'strunk was hoisted into the cart. Thenthe good woman climbed in over thewheel, settled her ample person on theseat and gathered up the reins, whilethe station-master stood smoothing themare's mane, ready for a parting wordof friendly gossip.

"Jacob pooty smart!" he asked,brushing a fly from Nancy's shoulder.

"Only middling," was the reply. "Hehad a touch o' rheumatiz, that last spellof wet weather, and it seems to hangon, kind of. Ketches him in the jointsand the small of his back if he rises up

suddin."

"I know! I know!" replied the station-master, with eager interest. "Jest like myspells ketches me; on'y I have itpowerful bad acrost my shoulders, too.I been kerryin' a potato in my pocket f'rover and above a week now, and I'm inhopes 't'll cure me."

"A potato in your pocket!" exclaimedDame Hartley. "Reuel Slocum! what doyou mean "

"Sounds curus, don't it " returned Mr.Slocum. "But it's a fact that it's a greatcure for rheumatiz. A grea-at cure! Why,there's Barzillay Smith, over to Peat's

Corner, has kerried a potato in hispocket for five years, not the samepotato, y' know; changes 'em when theybegin to sprout, and he hesn't hed atouch o' rheumatism all that time. Not atouch! tol' me so himself."

"Had he ever hed it before " askedDame Hartley.

"I d'no as he hed," said Mr. Slocum,"But his father hed; an' his granf'therbefore him. So ye see "

But here Hilda uttered a long sigh ofweariness and impatience; and DameHartley, with a penitent glance at her,bade good-morning to the victim of

rheumatism, gave old Nancy a smartslap with the reins, and drove off downthe wood-road.

"My dear child," she said to Hilda asthey jogged along, "I ought not to havekept you waiting so long, and you tiredwith your ride in the cars. But ReuelSlocum lives all alone here, and he doesenjoy a little chat with an old neighbormore than most folks; so I hope you'llexcuse 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; andbesides, she was very weary and

heartsick, and altogether miserable. Butshe tried to listen, as the good womancontinued to talk in a cheery,comfortable tone, telling her how fondshe had always been of "Miss Mildred,"as she called Mrs. Graham, and howshe had the care of her till she wasalmost a woman grown, and neverwould have left her then if JacobHartley 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 youhave been at Hartley's Glen. A sweetbaby you were, just toddling about onthe prettiest little feet I ever saw, whenyour mamma brought you out here to

spend a month with old Nurse Lucy.And your father came out every week,whenever he could get away from hisbusiness. What a fine man he is, to besure! And he and my husband had raretimes, shooting over the meadows, andfishing, and the like."

They were still in the wood-road, nowjolting along over ridges andhummocks, now ploughing throughstretches of soft, sandy soil. Above andon either side, the great trees interlacedtheir branches, sometimes letting themdroop till they brushed against Hilda'scheek, sometimes lifting them to giveher a glimpse of cool vistas of duskygreen, shade within shade, moss-grown

hollows, where the St. John's-wortshowed its tarnished gold, and whiteIndian pipe gleamed like silver alongthe ground; or stony beds over which,in the time of the spring rains, littlebrown brooks ran foaming andbubbling down through the woods.The air was filled with the faint coolsmell of ferns, and on every side weregreat masses of them, clumps ofsplendid ostrich-ferns, waving theirgreen plumes in stately pride; miniatureforests of the graceful brake, beneathwhose feathery branches the wood-mouse and other tiny forest-creaturesroamed secure; and in the very road-way, trampled under old Nancy's feet,delicate lady-fern, and sturdy hart's-

tongue, and a dozen other varieties, allperfect in grace and sylvan beauty.Hilda was conscious of a vague delight,through all her fatigue and distressHow beautiful it was; how cool andgreen and restful! If she must stay inthe country, why could it not be alwaysin the woods, where there was no noise,nor dust, nor confusion

Her revery was broken in upon byDame Hartley's voice crying cheerily,

"And here we are, out of the woods atlast! Cheer up, my pretty, and let meshow you the first sight of the farm.It's a pleasant, heartsome place, to mythinking."

The trees opened left and right,stepping back and courtesying, like truegentlefolks as they are, with delicateleaf-draperies drooping low. The sunshone bright and hot on a bit of hard,glaring yellow road, and touched morequietly the roofs and chimneys of anold yellow farm-house standing atsome distance from the road, withgreen rolling meadows on every side,and a great clump of trees mountingguard behind it. A low stone wall, withwild-roses nodding over it, ran alongthe roadside for some way, and midwayin it was a trim, yellow-painted gate,which stood invitingly open, showing aneat drive-way, shaded on either side by

graceful drooping elms. Old Nancypricked up her ears and quickened herpace into a very respectable trot, as ifshe already smelt her oats. DameHartley shook her own comfortableshoulders and gave a little sigh of relief,for she too was tired, and glad to gethome. But Hilda tightened her grasp onthe handle of her dressing-bag, andclosed her eyes with a slight shiver ofdislike and dread. She would not lookat this place. It was the hateful prisonwhere she was to be shut up for threelong, weary, dismal months. The sunmight shine on it, the trees might wave,and the wild-roses open their slenderpink buds; it would be nothing to her.She hated it, and nothing, nothing,

nothing could ever make her feeldifferently. Ah! the fixed andimmovable determination of fifteen,does later life bring anything like it

But now the wagon stopped, and Hildamust open her eyes, whether she wouldor no. In the porch, under theblossoming clematis, stood a tall,broad-shouldered man, dressed inrough homespun, who held out hisgreat brown hand and said in a gruff,hearty voice,

"Here ye be, eh Thought ye was nevercomin'. And this is little miss, is itHowdy, missy Glad to see ye! Let mejump ye out over the wheel!"

But Hilda declined to be "jumped out;"and barely touching the proffered hand,sprang lightly to the ground.

"Now, Marm Lucy," said FarmerHartley, "let's see you give a jump likethat. 'Tain't so long, seems to me, senceye used to be as spry as a hoppergrass."

Dame Hartley laughed, and climbedleisurely down from the cart. "Nevermind, Jacob!" she said; "I'm spryenough yet to take care of you, if Ican't jump as well as I used."

"This missy's trunk " continued thefarmer. "Let me see! What's missy's

name now Huldy, ain't it! Little Huldy!'Pears to me that's what they used tocall ye when ye was here before."

"My name is Hildegardis Graham!" saidHilda in her most icy manner, whatMadge Everton used to call herEmpress-of-Russia-in-the-ice-palace-with-the-mercury-sixty-degrees-below-zero manner.

"Huldy Gardies!" repeated FarmerHartley. "Well, that's a comical namenow! Sounds like Hurdy-gurdys,doosn't it Where did Mis' Graham pickup a name like that, I wonder But Ireckon Huldy'll do for me, 'thout theGardies, whatever they be."

"Come, father," said Dame Hartley, "thechild's tired now, an' I guess she wantsto go upstairs. If you'll take the trunk,we'll follow ye."

The stalwart farmer swung the heavytrunk up on his shoulder as lightly as ifit were a small satchel, and led the wayinto the house and up the steep, narrowstaircase.

CHAPTER III.

THE PRISONER OF DESPAIR.

As she followed in angry silence, Hildahad a glimpse through a half-opendoor of a cosey sitting-room; whileanother door, standing fully open at theother end of the little hall, showed, bya blaze of scarlet tiger-lilies and yellowmarigolds, where the garden lay. Andnow the farmer opened a door and setdown the trunk with a heavy thump;and Dame Hartley, taking the girl'shand, led her forward, saying: "Here,my dear, here is your own little room,the same that your dear mamma slept inwhen she was here! And I hope you'llbe happy in it, Hilda dear, and get allthe good we wish for you while you'rehere!" Hilda bowed slightly, feelingunable to speak; and the good woman

continued: "You must be hungry aswell as tired, travelling since morning.It's near our dinner-time. Or shall Ibring ye up something now, a cup o' teaand a cooky, eh Or would you like solidvictuals better "

"Thank you!" said Hilda. "I am not atall hungry; I could not possibly eatanything. My head aches badly!" sheadded, nervously forestalling herhostess's protestations. "Perhaps a cupof tea later, thank you! I should like torest now. And I shall not want anydinner."

"Oh! you'll feel better, dear, when youhave rested a bit," said Dame Hartley,

smoothing the girl's fair hair with amotherly touch, and not seeming tonotice her angry shrinking away. "It'sthe best thing you can do, to lie downand take a good nap; then you'll wakeup fresh as a lark, and ready to enjoyyourself. Good-by, dearie! I'll bring upyour tea in an hour or so." And with aparting nod and smile, the goodwoman departed, leaving Hilda, like theheroine of a three-volume novel,"alone with her despair."

Very tragic indeed the maiden looked asshe tossed off her hat and flungherself face downward on the bed,refusing to cast even a glance at the cellwhich was to be her hateful prison.

"For of course I shall spend my timehere!" she said to herself. "They maysend me here, keep me here for years, ifthey will; but they cannot make meassociate with these people." And sherecalled with a shudder the gnarled,horny hand which she had touched injumping from the cart, she had neverfelt anything like it; the homely speech,and the nasal twang with which it wasdelivered; the uncouth garb (good stoutbutternut homespun!) and unkempthair and beard of the "odious oldsavage," as she mentally named FarmerHartley.

After all, however, Hilda was onlyfifteen; and after a few minutes,

Curiosity began to wake; and after ashort struggle with Despair, itconquered, and she sat up on the bedand looked about her.

It was not a very dreadful cell. A bright,clean, fresh little room, all white andblue. White walls, white bedstead, withoh! such snowy coverings, white dimitycurtains at the windows, with old-fashioned ball fringes, a little dimity-covered toilet-table, with a quaintlooking-glass framed with fat giltcherubs, all apparently trying to foldtheir wings in such a way as to enablethem to get a peep at themselves in themirror, and not one succeeding. Thenthere was a low rocking-chair, and

another chair of the high-backed order,and a tall chest of drawers, all paintedwhite, and a wash-hand-stand with aset of dark-blue crockery on it whichmade the victim of despair open hereyes wide. Hilda had a touch of chinamania, and knew a good thing whenshe saw it; and this deep, eight-sidedbowl, this graceful jug with the quaintgilt dragon for a handle, these smallerjugs, boxes, and dishes, all of the samepattern, all with dark-blue dragons (nocold "Canton" blue, but a rich,splendid ultramarine), large and small,prancing and sprawling on a pale buffground, what were these things doingin the paltry bedroom of a commonfarm-house Hilda felt a new touch of

indignation at "these people" forpresuming to have such things in theirpossession.

When her keen eyes had taken ineverything, down to the neat rag-carpeton the floor, the girl bethought her ofher trunk. She might as well unpack it.Her head could not ache worse,whatever she did; and now that thatlittle imp Curiosity was once awake, heprompted her to wonder what thetrunk contained. None of the dressesshe had been wearing, she was sure ofthat; for they were all hanging safely inher wardrobe at home. What surprisehad mamma been planning Well, shewould soon know. Hastily unlocking

the trunk, she lifted out one tray afteranother and laid them on the bed. Inthe first were piles of snowy collars andhandkerchiefs, all of plain, fine linen,with no lace or embroidery; a broad-brimmed straw hat with a simplewreath of daisies round it; another hat,a small one, of rough gray felt, with notrimming at all, save a narrow scarletribbon; a pair of heavy castor gloves; acouple of white aprons, and one ofbrown holland, with long sleeves. Thenext tray was filled with dresses, dresseswhich made Hilda's eyes open wideagain, as she laid them out, one by one,at full length. There was a dark bluegingham with a red stripe, a browngingham dotted with yellow daisies, a

couple of light calicoes, each with atiny figure or flower on it, a white lawn,and a sailor-suit of rough blue flannel.All these dresses, and among them allnot an atom of trimming. No sign ofan overskirt, no ruffle or puff, plaitingor ruching, no "Hamburg" or lace,nothing! Plain round waists, neatlystitched at throat and wrists; plainround skirts, each with a deep hem, andnot so much as a tuck by way ofadornment.

Hildegarde drew a deep breath, andlooked at the simple frocks withkindling eyes and flushing cheeks.These were the sort of dresses that hermother's servants wore at home. Why

was she condemned to wear them now,she, who delighted in soft laces anddainty embroideries and the clingingdraperies which she thought suited herslender, pliant figure so well Was it apart of this whole scheme; and was theobject of the scheme to humiliate her,to take away her self-respect, her properpride

Mechanically, but carefully, as was herwont, Hilda hung the despised frocksin the closet, put away the hats, aftertrying them on and approving of them,in spite of herself ("Of course," shesaid, "mamma could not get an ugly hat,if she tried!"), and then proceeded totake out and lay in the bureau drawers

the dainty under-clothing which filledthe lower part of the trunk. Under allwas a layer of books, at sight of whichHilda gave a little cry of pleasure. "Ah!"she said, "I shall not be quite alone;"for she saw at a glance that here weresome old and dear friends. Lovingly shetook them up, one by one: "Romancesof the Middle Ages," Percy's "Reliques,""Hereward," and "Westward, Ho!" and,best-beloved of all, the "Adventures ofRobin Hood," by grace of HowardPyle made into so strong anenchantment that the heart thrills evenat sight of its good brown cover. Andhere was her Tennyson and herLongfellow, and Plutarch's Lives, andthe "Book of Golden Deeds." Verily a

goodly company, such as might eventurn a prison into a palace. But whatwas this, lying in the corner, with herBible and Prayer-book, this whiteleather case, with ah! Hilda with blueforget-me-nots delicately painted on itHastily Hilda took it up and pressedthe spring. Her mother's face smiled onher! The clear, sweet eyes lookedlovingly into hers; the tender mouth,which had never spoken a harsh orunkind word, seemed almost to quiveras if in life. So kind, so loving, sofaithful, so patient, always ready tosympathize, to help, to smile with one'sjoy or to comfort one's grief, her owndear, dear mother! A mist came beforethe girl's eyes. She gazed at the

miniature till she could no longer see it;and then, flinging herself down on thepillow again, she burst into a passionof tears, and sobbed and wept as if herheart would break. No longer QueenHildegardis, no longer the outraged andindignant "prisoner," only Hilda, Hildawho wanted her mother!

Finally she sobbed herself to sleep,which was the very best thing she couldhave done. By and by Dame Hartleypeeped softly in, and seeing the childlying "all in a heap," as she said toherself, with her pretty hair all tumbledabout, brought a shawl and covered hercarefully up, and went quietly away.

"Pretty lamb!" said the good woman."She'll sleep all the afternoon now, likeenough, and wake up feeling a good bitbetter, though I fear it will be a longtime before your girlie feels at homewith Nurse Lucy, Miss Mildred, dear!"

Sure enough, Hilda did sleep all theafternoon; and the soft summertwilight was closing round the farm-house when she woke with a start froma dream of home.

"Mamma!" she called quickly, raisingherself from the bed. For one momentshe stared in amazement at the strangeroom, with its unfamiliar furnishing;but recollection came only too quickly.

She started up as a knock was heard atthe door, and Dame Hartley's voicesaid:

"Hilda, dear, supper is ready, and I amsure you must be very hungry. Will youcome down with me "

"Oh! thank you, presently," saidHildegarde, hastily. "I am not I haven'tchanged my dress yet. Don't wait forme, please!"

"Dear heart, don't think of changingyour dress!" said Dame Hartley. "Youare a country lassie now, you know, andwe are plain farm people. Come downjust as you are, there's a dear!"

Hilda obeyed, only waiting to wash herburning face and hot, dry hands in thecrystal-cold water which she pouredout of the blue dragon pitcher. Herhair was brushed back and tied with aribbon, the little curls combed andpatted over her forehead; and in a fewminutes she followed her hostess downthe narrow staircase, with a tolerablyresigned expression on her pretty face.To tell the truth, Hilda felt a great dealbetter for her long nap; moreover shewas a little curious, and very, veryhungry, and oh, how good somethingdid smell!

Mrs. Hartley led the way into the

kitchen, as the chief room at HartleyFarm was still called, though thecooking was now done by means of amodern stove in the back kitchen,while the great fireplace, with the cranehanging over it, and the brick oven byits side, was used, as a rule, only towarm the room. At this season theroom needed no warming, and featheryasparagus crowned the huge back-log,and nodded between the iron fire-dogs.Ah! it was a pleasant room, the kitchenat Hartley Farm, wide and roomy, withdeep-seated windows facing the southand west; with a floor of dark oak,which shone with more than a centuryof scrubbing. The fireplace, oven, andcupboards occupied one whole side of

the room. Along the other ran a highdresser, whose shelves held a goodlyarray of polished pewter and brass,shining glass, and curious old china andcrockery. Overhead were dark, heavyrafters, relieved by the gleam of yellow"crook-neck" squashes, bunches ofgolden corn, and long festoons ofdried apples. In one window stood thegood dame's rocking-chair, with its gaypatchwork cushion; and her Bible,spectacles, and work-basket lay on thewindow-seat beside it. In another was ahuge leather arm-chair, which Hildarightly supposed to be the farmer's, anda wonderful piece of furniture, halfdesk, half chest of drawers, withtwisted legs and cupboards and pigeon-

holes and tiny drawers, and I don'tknow what else. The third windowHilda thought was the prettiest of all. Itfaced the west, and the full glory ofsunset was now pouring through theclustering vines which partly shaded it.The sash was open, and a white rosewas leaning in and nodding in afriendly way, as if greeting the new-comer. A low chair and a little work-table, both of quaint and gracefulfashion, 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 if I should sitdown in a kitchen!" But all the while

she knew in her heart of hearts thatthis was one of the most attractiverooms she had ever seen, and that thatparticular corner was pretty enoughand picturesque enough for a queen tosit in. You are not to think that she sawall these things at the first glance; farfrom it. There was something else inthe room which claimed the immediateattention of our heroine, and that was asquare oak table, shining like a mirror,and covered with good things, coldchicken, eggs and bacon, golden butterand honey, a great brown loaf on awonderful carved wooden platter,delicate rolls piled high on a shallowblue dish, and a portly glass jug filledwith rich, creamy milk. Here was a

pleasant sight for a hungry heroine offifteen! But alas! at the head of thisinviting table sat Farmer Hartley, the"odious savage," in his roughhomespun coat, with his hair still veryfar from smooth (though indeed hehad brushed it, and the broad, hornyhands were scrupulously clean). With aslight shudder Hilda took the seatwhich Dame Hartley offered her.

"Well, Huldy," said the farmer, lookingup from his eggs and bacon with acheery smile, "here ye be, eh Restedafter 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 itup, hey That's right! It's my idee thetmost everythin' 's the better for a bit o'bacon, unless it's soft custard. I d' 'noez 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 unkemptmonster. It was hard enough to eat witha steel fork, without being furthertormented. But the farmer seemeddetermined to drag her intoconversation.

"How's yer ha-alth in gineral, HuldyPooty rugged, be ye Seems to me yelook kin' o' peaked."

"I am quite well!" It was QueenHildegarde who spoke now, in icytones; but her coldness had no effecton her loquacious host.

"I s'pose ye'll want ter lay by a day ortwo, till ye git used ter things, like; butthen I sh'll want ye ter take holt. We'reshort-handed now, and a smart, likelygal kin be a sight o' help. There's thecows ter milk the' ain't but one o' themthet's real ugly, and she only kicks withthe off hind-leg; so 't's easy enough terlook out for her."

Hilda looked up in horror andamazement, and caught a twinkle in thefarmer's eye which told her that he wasquizzing her. The angry blood surgedup even to the roots of her hair; butshe disdained to reply, and continuedto crumble her bread in silence.

"Father, what ails you " said kind DameHartley. "Why can't you let the childalone She's tired yet, and she doesn'tunderstand your joking ways. Don'tyou mind the farmer, dear, one bit; hisheart's in the right place, but he do loveto 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. She felt thatin another moment the tears mustcome; and murmuring a word ofexcuse, she hastily pushed back herchair and left the room.

An hour after, Hilda was sitting by thewindow of her own room, lookinglistlessly out on the soft summerevening, and listening to themelancholy cry of the whippoorwill,when she heard voices below. Thefarmer was sitting with his pipe in thevine-clad porch just under the window;and now his wife had joined him, after"redding up" the kitchen, and giving

orders for the next morning to the tidymaidservant.

"Well, Marm Lucy," said FarmerHartley's gruff, hearty voice, "now thetyou have your fine bird, I sh'd like toknow what you're a-goin' to do withher. She's as pretty as a pictur, but astuck-up piece as ever I see. Don't favorher mother, nor father either, as I cansee."

"Poor child!" said Dame Hartley, with asigh, "I fear she will have a hard timeof it before she comes to herself. But Ipromised Miss Mildred that I would trymy best; and you said you would helpme, Jacob."

"So I did, and so I will!" replied thefarmer. "But tell me agin, what wasMiss Mildred's idee I got the giner'ldrift of it, but I can't seem to put ittogether exactly. I didn't s'pose the galwas this kind, anyhow."

"She told me," Dame Hartley said, "thatthis child her only one, Jacob! youknow what that means was getting intoways she didn't like. Going about withother city misses, who cared fornothing but pleasure, and who flatteredand petted her because of her beautyand her pretty, proud ways (and maybebecause of her father's money too;though Miss Mildred didn't say that),

she was getting to think too much ofherself, and to care too much for finedresses and sweetmeats and idle chatterabout nothing at all." (How Hilda'scheeks burned as she remembered thelong seances in her room, she on thesofa, and Madge in the arm-chair, withthe box of Huyler's or Maillard's bestalways between them! Had they evertalked of anything "worth the while,"as mamma would say She rememberedmamma's coming in upon them onceor twice, with her sweet, grave face. Sheremembered, too, a certain uneasyfeeling she had had for a moment onlyfor a moment when the door closedbehind her mother. But Madge hadlaughed, and said, "Isn't your mother

perfectly sweet She doesn't mind a bit,does she " and she had answered, "Oh,no!" and had forgotten it in the accountof Helen McIvor's new bonnet.) "Andthen Miss Mildred said, 'I had meant totake her into the country with me thissummer, and try to show the child whatlife really means, and let her learn toknow her brothers and sisters in thedifferent walks of this life, and howthey live, and what they do. I want herto see for herself what a tiny bit of theworld, and what a silly, useless, gildedbit, is the little set of fashionable girlswhom she has chosen for her friends.But this sudden call to California hasdisarranged all my plans. I cannot takeher with me there, for the child is not

well, and country air and quiet arenecessary for her bodily health. And so,Nurse Lucy,' she says, 'I want you to takemy child, and do by her as you did byme!'

"'Oh! Miss Mildred,' I said, 'do youthink she can be happy or contentedhere I'll do my best; I'm sure you knowthat! But if she's as you say, she is a verydifferent child to what you were, MissMildred dear.'

"'She will not be happy at first,' saysMiss Mildred. 'But she has a reallynoble nature, Nurse Lucy, and I amvery sure that it will triumph over thefollies and faults which are on the

outside.'

"And then she kissed me, the dear! andcame up and helped me set the littleroom to rights, and kissed the pillows,sweet lady, and cried over them a bit.Ah me! 'tis hard parting from ourchildren, even for a little while, that itis."

Dame Hartley paused and sighed. Thenshe said: "And so, here the child is, forgood or for ill, and we must do ourvery best by her, Jacob, you as well as I.What ailed you to-night, to tease her soat supper I thought shame of you, myman."

"Well, Marm Lucy," said the farmer, "Idon't hardly know what ailed me. But Itell ye what, 'twas either laugh or cry forme, and I thought laughin' was betternor t'other. To see that gal a-settin'there, with her pretty head tossed up,and her fine, mincin' ways, as if 'twasan honor to the vittles to put them inher mouth; and to think of my maid "He stopped abruptly, and rising fromthe bench, began to pace up and downthe garden-path. His wife joined himafter a moment, and the two walkedslowly to and fro together, talking inlow tones, while the soft summerdarkness gathered closer and closer,and the pleasant night-sounds woke,cricket and katydid and the distant

whippoorwill filling the air with acheerful murmur.

Long, long sat Hildegarde at thewindow, thinking more deeply than shehad ever thought in her life before.Different passions held her youngmind in control while she satmotionless, gazing into the darknesswith wide-open eyes. First angerburned high, flooding her cheek withhot blushes, making her temples throband her hands clench themselves in apassion of resentment. But to thissucceeded a mood of deep sadness, ofdespair, as she thought; though atfifteen one knows not, happily, themeaning of despair.

Was this all true Was she no better, nowiser, than the silly girls of her set Shehad always felt herself so far abovethem mentally; they had always sofrankly acknowledged her supremacy;she knew she was considered a "verysuperior girl:" was it true that her onlysuperiority lay in possessing powerswhich she never chose to exert Andthen came the bitter thought: "Whathave I ever done to prove myself wiserthan they " Alas for the answer! Hildahid her face in her hands, and it wasshame instead of anger that now sentthe crimson flush over her cheeks. Hermother despised her! Her motherperhaps her father too! They loved her,

of course; the tender love had neverfailed, and would never fail. They wereproud of her too, in a way. And yetthey despised her; they must despiseher! How could they help it Hermother, whose days were a ceaselessround of work for others, without athought of herself; her father, active,energetic, business-like, what must herlife seem to them How was it that shehad never seen, never dreamed before,that she was an idle, silly, frivolous girlThe revelation came upon her withstunning force. These people too, thesecoarse country people, despised herand laughed at her! The thought wasmore than she could bear. She sprangup, feeling as if she were suffocating,

and walked up and down the littleroom with hurried and nervous steps.Then suddenly there came into hermind one sentence of her mother's thatDame Hartley had repeated: "Hilda hasa really noble nature " What was therest Something about triumphing overthe faults and follies which lay outside.Had her mother really said that Did shebelieve, trust in, her silly daughter Thegirl stood still, with clasped hands andbowed head. The tumult within herseemed to die away, and in its placesomething was trembling into life, thelike of which Hilda Graham had neverknown, never thought of, before; faintand 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 intoHilda's room, and woke her with such aflash of sunshine and trill of bird-songthat she sprang up smiling, whether shewould or no. Indeed, she felt happierthan she could have believed to bepossible. The anger, the despair, eventhe self-humiliation and anguish ofrepentance, were gone with the night.

Morning was here, a new day and anew life. "Here is the new Hildegarde!"she cried as she plunged her face intothe clear, sparkling water. "Do you seeme, blue dragons Shake paws, youfoolish creatures, and don't standramping and glaring at each other inthat way! Here is a new girl come to seeyou. The old one was a minx, do youhear, dragons " The dragons heard, butwere too polite to say anything; and asfor not ramping, why they had rampedand glared for fifty years, and had noidea of making a change at their timeof life.

The gilt cherubs round the little mirrorwere more amiable, and smiled

cheerfully at Hilda as she brushed andbraided her hair, and put on the prettyblue gingham frock. "We have noclothes ourselves," they seemed to say,"but we appreciate good ones when wesee them!" Indeed, the frock fitted toperfection. "And after all," said the newHilda as she twirled round in front ofthe glass, "what is the use of anoverskirt " after which astoundingutterance, this young person proceededto do something still more singular.After a moment's hesitation she drewout one of the white aprons which shehad scornfully laid in the very lowestdrawer only twelve hours before, tied itround her slender waist, and then, withan entirely satisfied little nod at the

mirror, she tripped lightly downstairsand into the kitchen. Dame Hartley waswashing dishes at the farther end of theroom, in her neat little cedar dish-tub,with her neat little mop; and she nearlydropped the blue and white platterfrom her hands when she heard Hilda'scheerful "Good morning, Nurse Lucy!"and, turning, saw the girl smiling like avision of morning.

"My dear," she cried, "sure I thoughtyou were fast asleep still. I was goingup to wake you as soon as I had donemy dishes. And did you sleep well yourfirst night at Hartley's Glen "

"Oh, yes! I slept very sound indeed,"

said Hilda, lightly. And then, comingclose up to Dame Hartley, she said inan altered tone, and with heightenedcolor: "Nurse Lucy, I did not behavewell last night, and I want to tell youthat I am sorry. I am not like mamma,but I want to grow a little like her, if Ican, and you must help me, please!"

Her voice faltered, and good NurseLucy, laying down her mop, took theslender figure in her motherly arms,from which it did not now shrink away.

"My lamb!" she said; "Miss Mildred'sown dear child! You look liker yourblessed mother this minute than I everthought you would. Help you That I

will, with all my heart! though I doubtif you need much help, coming toyourself so soon as this. Well, well!"

"Coming to herself!" It was the samephrase the good dame had used thenight before, and it struck Hilda's mindwith renewed force. Yes, she had cometo herself, her new self, which was to beso different from the old. How strangeit all was! What should she do now, toprove the new Hilda and try herstrength Something must be done atonce; the time for folded hands andlistless revery was gone by.

"Shall I may I help you to get breakfast" she asked aloud, rather timidly.

"Breakfast Bless you, honey, we hadbreakfast two hours ago. We farmersare early birds, you know. But you canlay a plate and napkin for yourself, ifyou like, while I drop a couple of fresheggs and toast a bit of bacon for you.Do you like bacon, then "

Rather disappointed at the failure ofher first attempt to be useful, Hilda laidthe snowy napkin on the shining table,and chose a pretty blue and white platefrom the well-stocked shelves of thedresser.

"And now open that cupboard, mylamb," said her hostess, "and you'll find

the loaf, and a piece of honeycomb,and some raspberries. I'll bring a pat ofbutter and some milk from the dairy,where it's all cool for you."

"Raspberries!" cried Hilda. "Oh, howdelightful! Why, the dew is still onthem, Nurse Lucy! And how pretty theylook, with the cool green leaves roundthem!"

"Ay!" said the good woman, "Jacobbrought them in not ten minutes ago.He thought you would like them freshfrom the bushes."

Hilda's cheek rivalled the raspberries inbloom as she bent over them to inhale

their fragrance. The farmer had pickedthese himself for her, had probably lefthis work to do so; and she had calledhim an odious old savage, and anunkempt monster, and oh dear!decidedly, the old Hilda was a verydisagreeable girl. But here were theeggs, each blushing behind its veil ofwhite, and here was the milk, and alittle firm nugget in a green leaf, whichwas too beautiful to be butter, and yettoo good to be anything else. And thenew Hilda might eat her breakfast witha thankful heart, and did so. The whiterose nodded to her from the westwindow much more cordially than ithad done the night before. It evenbrought out a little new bud to take a

peep at the girl who now smiled,instead of scowling across the room.The vines rustled and shook, and twobright black eyes peeped between theleaves. "Tweet!" said the robin, rufflinghis scarlet waistcoat a little. "When youhave quite finished your worms, youmay come out, and I will show you thegarden. There are cherries!" and awayhe flew, while Hilda laughed andclapped her hands, for she hadunderstood every word.

"May I go out into the garden " sheasked, when she had finished herbreakfast and taken her first lesson indish-washing, in spite of DameHartley's protest. "And isn't there

something I can do there, please I wantto work; I don't want to be idle anylonger."

"Well, honey," replied the dame, "thereare currants to pick, if you like suchwork as that. I am going to make jellyto-morrow; and if you like to begin thepicking, I will come and help you whenmy bread is out of the oven."

Gladly Hilda flew up to her room forthe broad-leaved hat with the daisy-wreath; and then, taking the wide,shallow basket which Dame Hartleyhanded her, she fairly danced out ofthe door, over the bit of green, andinto the garden.

Ah! the sweet, heartsome countrygarden that this was, the very thoughtof it is a rest and a pleasure. Straightdown the middle ran a little gravel path,with a border of fragrant clove-pinkson either side, planted so close togetherthat one saw only the masses of palepink blossoms resting on their bed ofslender silvery leaves. And over theborder! Oh the wealth of flowers, theblaze of crimson and purple and gold,the bells that swung, the spires thatsprang heavenward, the clusters thatnodded and whispered together in themorning breeze! Here were ranks uponranks of silver lilies, drawn up inmilitary fashion, and marshalled by

clumps of splendid tiger-lilies, thedrum-majors of the flower-garden.Here were roses of every sort, blushingand paling, glowing in gold andmantling in crimson. And thecarnations showed their delicate fringes,and the geraniums blazed, and theheliotrope languished, and the "Puritanpansies" lifted their sweet faces andlooked gravely about, as if reprovingthe other flowers for their frivolity;while shy Mignonette, thinking herselfwell hidden behind her green leaves,still made her presence known by theexquisite perfume which all her gaysisters would have been glad to borrow.

Over all went the sunbeams, rollicking

and playing; and through all wentHildegarde, her heart filled with a newdelight, feeling as if she had never livedbefore. She talked to the flowers. Shebent and kissed the damask rose, whichwas too beautiful to pluck. She put hercheek against a lily's satin-silver petals,and started when an angry bee flew outand buzzed against her nose. But wherewere the currant-bushes Ah! there theywere, a row of stout green bushes,forming a hedge at the bottom of thegarden.

Hilda fell busily to work, filling herbasket with the fine, ruddy clusters."How beautiful they are!" she thought,holding up a bunch so that the sunlight

shone through it. "And these pale,pinky golden ones, which show all thedelicate veins inside. Really, I must eatthis fat bunch; they are like fairy grapes!The butler fay comes and picks acluster every evening, and carries it on alily-leaf platter to the queen as she sitssupping on honey-cakes and dewunder the damask rose-bush."

While fingers and fancy were thusbusily employed, Hilda was startled bythe sound of a voice which seemed tocome from beyond the currant-bushes,very near her. She stood quite still andlistened.

"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 thoroughlyaroused; and laying down her basket,she cautiously parted the leaves andpeeped through. She hardly knew whatshe expected to see. What she did seewas a boy about ten years old, in aflannel shirt and a pair of raggedbreeches, busily weeding a row ofcarrots; for this was the vegetablegarden, which lay behind the currant-bushes. On one side of the boy was ahuge heap of weeds; on the other lay atattered book, at which he glanced from

time to time, though without leavinghis work. "A-n, an," he was now saying;"t-i, ti, anti; c-i-p, cip, anticip; a-t-e, ate,anticipate. 'To expect.' Well! that is agood un. Why can't they say expect,'stead o' breakin' their jawsen with aword like that Anticip-ate! Well, I swan!I hope he enjoyed eatin' it. Sh'd think't'd ha giv' him the dyspepsy, anyhow."

At this Hilda could contain herself nolonger, but burst into a merry peal oflaughter; and as the boy started up withstaring eyes and open mouth, shepushed the bushes aside and cametowards him. "I am sorry I laughed,"she said, not unkindly. "You said thatso funnily, I couldn't help it. You did

not pronounce the word quite right,either. It is anticipate, not anticip-ate."

The boy looked half bewildered andhalf grateful. "Anticipate!" he repeated,slowly. "Thanky, miss! it's aonreasonable sort o' word, 'pears terme." And he bent over his carrotsagain.

But Hilda did not return to hercurrant-picking. She was interested inthis freckled, tow-headed boy, wrestlingwith four-syllabled words while heworked.

"Why do you study your lesson outhere " she asked, sitting down on aconvenient stump, and refreshingherself with another bunch of whitecurrants. "Couldn't you learn it betterindoors "

"Dunno!" replied the boy. "Ain't got notime ter stay indoors."

"You might learn it in the evening!"suggested Hilda.

"I can't keep awake evenin's," said theboy, simply. "Hev to be up at fouro'clock to let the cows out, an' I gitsleepy, come night. An' I like it heretoo," he added. "I can l'arn 'em easier,

weedin'; take ten weeds to a word."

"Ten weeds to a word " repeated Hilda."I don't understand you."

"Why," said the boy, looking up at herwith wide-open blue eyes, "I take agood stiff word (I like 'em stiff, likethat an anticipate feller), and I says itover and over while I pull up tenweeds, big weeds, o' course, pusley andsich. I don't count chickweed. By thetime the weeds is up, I know the word,I've larned fifteen this spell!" and heglanced proudly at his tattered spelling-book as he tugged away at a mammothroot of pusley, which stretched its ugly,sprawling length of fleshy arms on

every side.

Hilda watched him for some moments,many new thoughts revolving in herhead. How many country boys werethere who taught themselves in this wayHow many, among the clever girls atMademoiselle Haut-ton's school, hadthis sort of ambition to learn, of pridein learning Had she, the best scholar inher class, had it She had always knownher lessons, because they were easy forher to learn, because she had a quickeye and ear, and a good memory. Shecould not help learning, Mademoisellesaid. But this, this was somethingdifferent!

"What is your name " she asked, with anew interest.

"Bubble Chirk," replied the freckledboy, with one eye on his book, and theother measuring a tall spire of pigweed,towards which he stretched his hand.

"WHAT!" cried Hilda, in amazement.

"Bubble Chirk!" said the boy. "Kin' o'curus name, ain't it The hull of it'sZerubbabel Chirk; but most folks ain'tgot time to say all that. It trips you up,too, sort o'. Bubble's what they call me;'nless it's Bub."

The contrast between the boy's earnest

and rather pathetic face, and hisabsurdly volatile name, was almost toomuch for Hilda's gravity. But shechecked the laugh which rose to herlips, and asked: "Don't you go toschool at all, Bubble It is a pity that youshouldn't, when you are so fond ofstudy."

"Gin'lly go for a spell in the winter,"replied Bubble. "They ain't no school insummer, y' know. Boys hes to work,round here. Mam ain't got nobody butme 'n Pink, sence father died."

"Who is Pink " asked Hilda, gently.

"My sister," replied Bubble. "Thet ain't

her real name, nuther. Mam hed herchristened Pinkrosia, along o' her bein'so fond o' roses, Mam was; but wedon't call her nothin' only Pink."

"Pink Chirk!" repeated Hilda to herself."What a name! What can a girl be likewho is called Pink Chirk "

But now Bubble seemed to think that itwas his turn to ask questions. "I reckonyou're the gal that's come to stay at Mr.Hartley's " he said in an interrogativetone.

Hilda's brow darkened for a moment atthe word "gal," which came withinnocent frankness from the lips of the

ragged urchin before her. But the nextmoment she remembered that it wasonly the old Hilda who cared aboutsuch trifles; so she answered pleasantlyenough:

"Yes, I am staying at Mr. Hartley's. Ionly came yesterday, but I am to staysome time."

"And what mought your name be "inquired Master Chirk.

"Hildegardis Graham." It was gentlysaid, in a very different voice from thatwhich had answered Farmer Hartley inthe same words the night before; but itmade a startling impression on Bubble

Chirk.

"Hildy " he began; and then, giving itup, he said simply: "Well, I swan! Do yekerry all that round with ye all the time"

Hilda laughed outright at this.

"Oh, no!" she said; "I am called Hildagenerally."

"But you kin spell the hull of it " askedthe boy anxiously.

"Yes, certainly!" Bubble's eager looksubsided into one of mingled awe andadmiration.

"Reckon ye must know a heap," he said,rather wistfully. "Wish't I did!"

Hilda looked at him for a momentwithout speaking. Her old self waswhispering to her. "Take care what youdo!" it said. "This is a coarse, common,dirty boy. He smells of the stable; hishair is full of hay; his hands are beyonddescription. What have you in commonwith such a creature He has not eventhe sense to know that he is yourinferior." "I don't care!" said the newHilda. "I know what mamma would doif she were here, and I shall do it, or tryto do it, at least. Hold your tongue, yousupercilious minx!"

"Bubble," she said aloud, "would youlike me to teach you a little, while I amhere I think perhaps I could help youwith your lessons."

The boy looked up with a sudden flashin his blue eyes, while his face grewcrimson with pleasure.

"Would I like it " he cried eagerly. Butthe next moment the glow faded, andhe looked awkwardly down at hisragged book and still more raggedclothes. "Guess I ain't no time to l'arnthat way," he muttered in confusion.

"Nonsense!" said Hilda, decidedly.

"There must be some hour in the daywhen you can be spared. I shall speakto Farmer Hartley about it. Don't lookat your clothes, you foolish boy," shecontinued, with a touch of QueenHildegardis' quality, yet with a kindlyintonation which was new to thatpotentate. "I am not going to teachyour clothes. You are not your clothes!"cried Her Majesty, wondering at herself,and a little flushed with her recentvictory over the "minx." The boy's facebrightened again.

"That's so!" he said, joyously; "that'swhat Pink says. But I didn't s'pose you'dthink so," he added, glancing bashfullyat the delicate, high-bred face, with its

flashing eyes and imperial air.

"I do think so!" said Hilda. "So that issettled, and we will have our first lessonto-morrow. What would you "

"Hilda! Hilda! where are you, dear "called Dame Hartley's voice from theother side of the currant-bush-hedge.And catching up her basket, andbidding a hasty good-by to her newacquaintance and future scholar,Hildegarde darted back through thebushes.

Zerubbabel Chirk looked after her afew moments, with kindling eyes andopen mouth of wonder and

admiration.

"Wall!" he said finally, after a pause ofsilent meditation, "I swan! I reelly do! Iswan to man!" and fell to weedingagain as if his life depended on it.

CHAPTER V.

THE BLUE PLATTER.

"Merry it is in the green forest, Amongthe leaves green!"

Thus sang Hildegarde as she sat in thewest window, busily stringing her

currants. She had been thinking a greatdeal about Bubble Chirk, making plansfor his education, and wondering whathis sister Pink was like. He remindedher, she could not tell why, of the "lytelboy" who kept fair Alyce's swine, in herfavorite ballad of "Adam Bell, Clym o'the Clough, and William ofCloudeslee;" and the words of theballad rose half unconsciously to herlips as she bent over the great yellowbowl, heaped with scarlet and pale-goldclusters.

"Merry it is in the green forest, Amongthe leaves green, Whenas men hunt eastand west With bows and arrowes keen,

"For to raise the deer out of theirdenne, Such sights have oft been seen;As by three yemen of the northcountree: By them it is, I mean.

"The one of them hight Adam Bell,The other Clym o' the Clough; Thethird was Willyam of Cloudeslee, Anarcher good enough.

"They were outlawed for venison,These yemen every one. They sworethem brethren on a day To Englishwood for to gone.

"Now lythe and listen, gentylmen, Thatof myrthes loveth to hear!"

At this moment the door opened, andFarmer Hartley entered, taking off hisbattered straw hat as he did so, andwiping his forehead with a redbandanna handkerchief. Hilda lookedup with a pleasant smile, meaning tothank him for the raspberries which hehad gathered for her breakfast; but toher utter astonishment the moment hiseyes fell upon her he gave a violentstart and turned very pale; then,muttering something under his breath,he turned hastily and left the room.

"Oh! what is the matter " cried Hilda,jumping up from her chair. "What haveI done, Nurse Lucy I have made thefarmer angry, somehow. Is this his chair

I thought "

"No, no, honey dear!" said Nurse Lucysoothingly. "Sit ye down; sit ye down!You have done nothing. I'm right gladof it," she added, with a tone ofsadness in her pleasant voice. "Seeing as'tis all in God's wisdom, Jacob mustcome to see it so; and 'tis no help, but adeal of hindrance, when folks set asidechairs 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 onthe girl's soft hair: "You see, dear, wehad a daughter of our own this timelast year. Our only one she was, and justabout your age, the light of our eyes,

our Faith. She was a good girl, strongand loving and heartsome, and almostas pretty as yourself, Hilda dear; but theFather had need of her, so she wastaken from us for a while. It was cruelhard for Jacob; cruel, cruel hard. Hecan't seem to see, even now, that it wasright, or it wouldn't have been so. Andso I can tell just what he felt, coming injust now, sudden like, and seeing yousitting in Faith's chair. Like as not heforgot it all for a minute, and thought itwas herself. She had a blue dress that healways liked, and she'd sit here and sing,and the sun coming in on her throughher own window there, as she alwayscalled it: like a pretty picture she was,our Faith."

"Oh!" cried Hilda, taking the brown,motherly hand in both of hers, "I amso very, very sorry, dear Nurse Lucy! Idid not know! I will never sit hereagain. I thought "

But she was ashamed to say what shehad thought, that this chair and tablehad been set for her to tempt her to sitdown "in a kitchen!" She could hearherself say it as she had said it lastnight, with a world of scornfulemphasis. How long it seemed sincelast night; how much older she hadgrown! And yet and yet somehow shefelt a great deal younger.

All this passed through her mind in amoment; but Nurse Lucy was pettingher, and saying: "Nay, dearie; nay, child!This is just where I want you to sit.'Twill be a real help to Farmer, once heis used to it. Hark! I hear him comingnow. Sit still! To please me, my dear, sitstill where ye are."

Hilda obeyed, though her heart beatpainfully; and she bent in real distressover the currants as Farmer Hartleyonce more entered the room. Shehardly knew what she feared orexpected; but her relief was great whenhe bade her a quiet but cheerful

"Good-day!" and crossing the room, satdown 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 themutton."

"Oh! let me help," cried Hilda,springing up and setting her bowl ofcurrants on the window-sill.

So between the two the snowy clothwas laid, and the blue plates and theshining knives and forks laid out. Thenthey all sat down, and the little maid-servant came too, and took her place atthe end of the table; and presently in

came a great loutish-looking fellow,about one or two and twenty, with agreat shock of sandy hair and littleferret-eyes set too near together, whomDame Hartley introduced as hernephew. He sat down too, and ate morethan all the rest of them put together.At sight of this man, who gobbled hisfood noisily, and uttered loud snortsbetween the mouthfuls, the old Hildaawoke in full force. She could notendure this; mamma never could haveintended it! The Hartleys were different,of course. She was willing toacknowledge that she had been in thewrong about them; but this lout, thisoaf, this villainous-looking churl, toexpect a lady to sit at the same table

with him: it was too much! She wouldask if she might not dine in her ownroom after this, as apparently it wasonly at dinner that this "creature" madehis appearance.

Farmer Hartley had been very silentsince he came in, but now he seemed tofeel that he must make an effort to besociable, so he said kindly, thoughgravely,

"I see ye're lookin' at that old dish,Huldy. 'Tis a curus old piece, 'n' that's afact. Kin ye read the motter on it "

Hilda had not been looking at the dish,though her eyes had been

unconsciously fixed upon it, and shenow bent forward to examine it. It wasan oblong platter, of old blue andwhite crockery. In the middle (whichwas now visible, as the "creature" hadjust transferred the last potato to hisown plate, stabbing it with his knife forthat purpose) was a quaintrepresentation of a mournful-lookingcouple, clad in singularly ill-fittingaprons of fig-leaves. The man wasdigging with a spade, while the womansat at a spinning-wheel placeddangerously near the edge of the deepditch which her husband had alreadydug. Round the edge ran an inscription,which, after some study, Hilda madeout to be the old distich:

"When Adam delved, and Eve span,Where was then the gentleman "

Hilda burst out laughing in spite of herself.

"Oh, it is wonderful!" she cried. "Whoever heard of Eve with a spinning-wheel Where did this come from,Farmer Hartley I am sure it must have ahistory."

"Wa-al," said the farmer, smiling, "Id'no ez 't' hes so to speak a hist'ry, an'yit there's allays somethin' amoosin' tome about that platter. My father was asea-farin' man most o' his life, an' only

came to the farm late in life, 'count ofhis older brother dyin', as owned it.Well, he'd picked up a sight o' queerthings in his voyages, father had; he kep'some of 'em stowed away in boxes, andbrought 'em out from time to time, ezhe happened to think of 'em. Wa-al, weyoung uns growed up (four of us therewas, all boys, and likely boys too, if I dosay it), and my brother Simon, who wasnex' to me, he went to college. He was aclever chap, Simon was, an' nothin'would do for him but he must be agentleman.

"'Jacob kin stick to the farm an' themill; if he likes,' says he, 'an' Tom kingo to sea, an' William kin be a minister,

't's all he's good fer, I reckon; but I'mgoin' ter be a gentleman!' says Simon. Hesaid it in father's hearin' one day, an'father lay back in his cheer an' laughed;he was allays laughin', father was. An'then he went off upstairs, an' we heardhim rummagin' about among his boxesup in the loft-chamber. We dassn't noneof us tech them boxes, we boys, thoughwe warn't afeard of nothin' else in theworld, only father. Presently he comesdown again, still a-laughin', an' kerryin'that platter in his hand. He sets it downafore Simon, an' says he, 'Wealthy,' sayshe (that was my mother), 'Wealthy,' sayshe, 'let Simon have his victuals off o'this platter every day, d'ye hear The' ain'tnone other that's good enough for

him!' an' then he laughed again, till hefairly shook, an' Simon looked black asthunder, an' took his hat an' went out.An' so after Simon went to college,every time he come home for vacationand set down to table with his nosekind o' turned up, like he was too goodto set with his own kith and kin, father'ud go an git the old blue platter and setit afore him, an' say, 'Here's your dish,Simon; been diggin' any lately, my son 'and then lay back in his cheer andlaugh."

"And did Simon become a a gentleman" asked Hilda, taking her own littlelesson very meekly, in her desire toknow more.

Farmer Hartley's brow cloudedinstantly, and the smile vanished fromhis lips. "Poor Simon!" he said, sadly."He might ha' been anythin' he liked, ifhe'd lived and been fortunate."

"Simon Hartley is dead, Hilda dear,"interposed Dame Hartley, gently; "hedied some years ago. Will you havesome of your own currants, my dearHilda has been helping me a great deal,Father," she added, addressing herhusband. "I don't know how I shouldhave got all my currants picked withouther help."

"Has she so " exclaimed the farmer,

fixing his keen gray eyes on the girl."Waal! waal! to think o' that! Why, wesh'll hev her milkin' that cow soon,after all; hey, Huldy "

Hildegarde looked up bravely, with alittle smile. "I will try," she said,cheerfully, "if you will risk the milk,Farmer Hartley."

The old farmer returned her smile withone so bright and kind and genial thatsomehow the ice bent, then cracked,and then broke. The old Hilda shrankinto so small a space that there wasreally very little left of her, and the newHilda rose from table feeling that shehad gained a new friend.

So it came to pass that about an hourlater our heroine was walking besidethe farmer on the way to the barnyard,talking merrily, and swinging the basketwhich she was going to fill with eggs."But how shall I find them," she asked,"if the hens hide them away socarefully "

"Oh, you'll hear 'em scrattlin' round!"replied the farmer. "They're gret 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, whileHilda looked in with delight. A broad

floor, big enough for a ballroom, withtowering walls of fragrant hay on eitherside reaching up to the rafters; greatdoors open at the farther end, showinga snatch of blue, radiant sky, and alovely wood-road winding away intodeep thickets of birch and linden;dusty, golden, cobwebby sunbeamsslanting down through the littlewindows, and touching the tossed hay-piles into gold; and in the middle,hanging by iron chains from the greatcentral beam, a swing, almost bigenough for a giant, such was the barnat Hartley 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 way home, Ireckon."

"Oh, yes, indeed!" said Hilda. "But stopone moment, please, Farmer Hartley. Iwant to know will you please may Iteach Bubble Chirk a little " The farmergave a low whistle of surprise; butHilda went on eagerly: "I found himstudying, this morning, while he wasweeding the garden, oh! studying sohard, and yet not neglecting his workfor a minute. He seems a very brightboy, and it is a pity he should not havea good education. Could you sparehim, do you think, for an hour everyday " She stopped, while the farmerlooked at her with a merry twinkle in

his eye.

"You teach Bubble Chirk!" he said."Why, what would your fine friends sayto that, Miss Huldy Bubble ain't nothin'but a common farm-boy, if he is bright;an' I ain't denyin' that he is."

"I don't know what they would say,"said Hildegarde, blushing hotly, "and Idon't care, either! I know what mammawould do in my place; and so do you,Farmer Hartley!" she added, with a littletouch of indignation.

"Waal, I reckon I do!" said FarmerHartley. "And I know who looks likeher mother, this minute, though I never

thought she would. Yes!" he said, moreseriously, "you shall teach BubbleChirk, my gal; and it's my belief 'twillbring you a blessin' as well as him. Yeare yer mother's darter, after all. Shall Igive ye a swing now, before I go; or areye too big to swing!"

"I don't know!" said Hildegarde, eyingthe swing wistfully. "Am I too big, Iwonder "

"Yer ma warn't, when she was herethree weeks ago!" said the farmer. "Shejust sot heer and took a good solidswing, for the sake of old times, shesaid."

"Then I will take one for the sake ofnew times!" cried Hilda, running to theswing and seating herself on its broad,roomy seat. "For the sake of this newtime, which I know is going to be ahappy one, give me three good pushes,please, Farmer Hartley, and then I cantake care of myself."

One! two! three! up goes QueenHildegarde, up and up, among thedusty, cobwebby sunbeams, whichsettle like a crown upon her fair head.Down with a rush, through the sweet,hay-scented air; then up again, startlingthe swallows from under the eaves, andmaking the staid and conservative oldhens frantic with anxiety. Up and down,

in broad, free sweeps, growing slowernow, as the farmer left her and went tohis work. How perfect it was! Did theworld hold anything else so delightfulas swinging in a barn She began to sing,for pure joy, a little song that hermother had made for her when she wasa little child, and used to swing in thegarden at home. And Farmer Hartley,with his hand on the brown heifer'sback, paused with a smile and a sigh ashe heard the girl's sweet fresh voice ringout gladly from the old barn. This wasthe song she sang:

If I were a fairy king (Swinging high,swinging low), I would give to you aring (Swinging, oh!) With a diamond set

so bright That the shining of its lightShould make morning of the night(Swinging high, swinging low) Shouldmake 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 bellswould chime In a little merry rhyme, Inthe merry morning time (Swinginghigh, swinging low) In the happymorning time (Swinging, oh!).

You should wear a satin gown(Swinging high, swinging low), All withribbons falling down (Swinging, oh!).And your little twinkling feet, O my

Pretty and my Sweet! Should be shodwith silver neat (Swinging high,swinging low) Shod with silver slippersneat (Swinging, oh!).

But I'm not a fairy, Pet (Swinging high,swinging low), Am not even a king, asyet (Swinging, oh!). So all that I can doIs to kiss your little shoe, And to makea queen of you (Swinging high,swinging low), Make a fairy queen ofyou (Swinging, oh!).

CHAPTER VI.

HARTLEY'S GLEN.

How many girls, among all the girlswho may read this little book, have seenwith their own eyes Hartley's Glen Notone, perhaps, save Brynhild and theRosicrucian, for whom the book iswritten. But the others must try to see itwith my eyes, for it is a fair place and asweet as any on earth. Behind thehouse, and just under the brow of thelittle hill that shelters it, a narrow pathdips down to the right, and goes alongfor a bit, with a dimpled clover-meadow on the one hand, and a stonewall, all warm with golden and red-brown lichens, on the other. Followthis, and you come to a little gateway,beyond which is a thick plantation of

larches, with one grim old red cedarkeeping watch over them. If he regardsyou favorably, you may pass on, downthe narrow path that winds among thelarches, whose feathery finger-tipsbrush your cheek and try to hold youback, as if they willed not that youshould go farther, to see the wonderswhich they can never behold.

But you leave them behind, and comeout into the sunshine, in a little greenglade which might be the ballroom ofthe fairy queen. On your right, gleamingthrough clumps of alder and blackbirch, is a pond, the home of cardinalflowers and gleaming jewel-weed; alittle farther on, a thicket of birch and

maple, from which comes a musicalsound of falling water. Follow thissound, keeping to the path, whichwinds away to the left. Stop! now youmay step aside for a moment, and partthe heavy hanging branches, and look,where the water falls over a high blackwall, into a sombre pool, shut in byfantastic rocks, and shaded from allsunshine by a dense fringe of trees.This is the milldam, and the pondabove is no natural one, but theenforced repose and outspreading of amerry brown brook, which now showsits true nature, and escaping from thegloomy pool, runs scolding andfoaming down through a wilderness ofrocks and trees. You cannot follow it

there, though I have often done so inmy barefoot days, so come back to thepath again. There are pines overheadnow, and the ground is slippery withthe fallen needles, and the air is sweetah! how sweet! with their warmfragrance. See! here is the old mill itself,now disused and falling to decay. Herethe path becomes a little precipice, andyou must scramble as best you candown two or three rough steps, andround the corner of the ruined mill.This is a millstone, this great roundthing like a granite cheese, half buriedin the ground; and here is another,which makes a comfortable seat, if youare tired.

But there is a fairer resting-placebeyond. Round this one more corner,now, and down, carefully, carefully!down this long stairway, formed ofrough slabs of stone laid one below theother. Shut your eyes now for amoment, and let me lead you forwardby the hand. And now now open theeyes wide, wide, and look about you. Infront, and under the windows of theold mill, the water comes foaming andrushing down over a rocky fall somesixty feet high, and leaps merrily into asecond pool. No sombre, black gulfthis, like the one above, but a lovelyopen circle, half in broad sunshine,half dappled with the fairy shadows ofthe boughs and ferns that bend

lovingly over it. So the little brook is nolonger angry, but mingles lovingly withthe deep water of the pool, and thenruns laughing and singing along theglen on its way down to the sea. Onone side of this glen the bank risesabruptly some eighty feet, its sidesclothed with sturdy birches which clingas best they may to the rocky steep. Onthe other stretches the little valley, anarrow strip of land, but with turf asfine as the Queen's lawn, and trees thatwould proudly grace Her Majesty'spark, tall Norway firs, raising theirstately forms and pointing their longdark fingers sternly at the intruders ontheir solitude; graceful birches; and hereand there a whispering larch or a

nodding pine. The other wall of thevalley, or glen, is less precipitous, and itssides are densely wooded, and fringedwith barberry bushes and climbingeglantine.

And between these two banks, and overthis green velvet carpet, and amongthese dark fir-trees, ah! how the sunshines. Nowhere else in the whole landdoes he shine so sweetly, for he knowsthat his time there is short, and that thehigh banks will shut him out from thatgreen, pleasant place long before hemust say good-night to the morecommon-place fields and hill-sides. Sohere his beams rest right lovingly,making royal show of gold on the

smooth grass, and of diamonds on therunning water, and of opals andtopazes and beryls where the wavecomes curling over the little fall.

And now, amid all this pomp and playof 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 whatis that round, whitish object which isbobbing up and down with suchsingular energy Why, the blue isHildegarde's dress, if you must know;and the whitish object is the head ofZerubbabel Chirk, scholar and devotee;and the energy with which said head isbobbing is the energy of determination

and of study. Hilda and Bubble havemade themselves extremely comfortableunder the great ash-tree which stands inthe centre of the glen. The teacher hascurled herself up against the roots ofthe tree, and has a piece of work in herhands; but her eyes are wanderingdreamily over the lovely scene beforeher, and she looks as if she were reallytoo comfortable to move even a finger.The scholar lies at her feet, facedownwards, his chin propped on hishands, his head bobbing up and down.The silence is only broken by the noiseof the waterfall and the persistentchirping of some very cheerful littlebird.

Presently the boy raised his head andcried joyfully, "I've fetched him, MissHildy! I know it, now, jest like pie!"Whereupon he stood up, and assuminga military attitude, submitted to a severegeographical catechising, and came offwith flying colors.

"That was a very good recitation," saidHilda, approvingly, as she laid the bookdown. "You shall have another balladto-day as a reward. But, Bubble," sheadded, rather seriously, "I do wish youwould not use so much slang. It is sosenseless! Now what did you mean bysaying 'just like pie,' in speaking of yourlesson just now "

"Oh! come now, Miss Hildy!" saidBubble, bashfully, "the' ain't no use inyour tellin' me you don't know what pieis."

"Of course I know what pie is, you sillyboy!" said Hilda, laughing. "But whathas pie to do with your geographylesson "

"That's so!" murmured the boy,apologetically. "That's a fact, ain't it! Iwon't say 'like pie' no more; I'll say 'likeblazes,' instead."

"You needn't say 'like' anything!" criedHilda, laughing again; "just say, I knowmy lesson 'well,' or 'thoroughly.' There

are plenty of real words, Bubble, thathave as much meaning as the slangones, and often a great deal more."

"That's so," said Bubble, with an air ofdeep conviction. "I'll try not to talk nomore 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, whatshall I say " he asked, simply. "Pinkwon't let me say 'I swow,' 'cause it'svulgar; an' if I say 'by' anything, Masays it's swearin', an' I can't swear,nohow!"

"Of course not," said Hilda. "But whymust you say anything, Bubble, anythingof that sort, I mean "

"Oh!" said the boy, "I d' 'no 's I kin sayezackly why, Miss Hildy; but but wal, Iswan! I mean, I I don't mean I swanbut there now! You see how 'tis, MissHildy. Things don't seem to hev notaste to 'em, without you say somethin'."

"Let me think," said Hilda. "Perhaps Ican think of something that will soundbetter."

"I might say, 'Gee Whittekers!'"suggested Bubble, brightening up alittle. "I know some fellers as says that."

"I don't think that would do," repliedHilda, decidedly. "What does it mean "

"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. Shedid not think "Gee Whittekers" a"hahnsome" expression.

"Bubble," she said after a few moments'reflection, during which her scholarwatched her anxiously, "I have an idea.If you must say 'something,' beside whatyou actually have to say, let it besomething that will remind you of your

lessons; then it may help you toremember them. Instead of Gee what isit Gee Whittekers, say Geography, orSpelling, or Arithmetic; and instead of'I swan,' say 'I study!' What do youthink of this plan "

"Fustrate!" exclaimed Bubble, noddinghis head enthusiastically. "I like fustrate!Ge-ography! Why, that sounds just likepie! I I don't mean that, Miss Hildy. Ididn't mean to say it, nohow! It kind o'slipped out, ye know." Bubble paused,and hung his head in much confusion.

"Never mind!" said Hilda, kindly. "Ofcourse you cannot make the change allat once, Bubble. But little by little, if

you really think about it, you will bringit about. Next week," she added, "Ithink we must begin upon grammar.You are doing very well indeed inspelling and geography, and pretty wellin arithmetic; but your grammar,Bubble, is simply frightful."

"Be it " said Bubble, resignedly. "I wantto know!"

"And now," said the young instructress,rising, and shaking out her crumpledfrock, "that is enough for to-day,Bubble. We must be going home soon;but first, I want to take a peep at thelower part of the old mill, that you toldme about yesterday. You have been in

there, you say And how did you get in "

"I'll show ye!" cried Bubble, springingup with alacrity, and leading the waytowards the mill. "I'll show ye the veryplace, Miss Hildy. 'Tain't easy to get in,and 'tain't no place for a lady, nohow;but I kin git in, jist like like 'rithmetic!"

"Bravo, Bubble!" said Hilda, laughingmerrily. "That is very well for abeginning. How long is it since the millwas used " she asked, looking up at thefrowning walls of rough, dark stone,covered with moss and lichens.

"Farmer Hartley's gran'f'ther was thelast miller," replied Bubble Chirk. "My

father used to say he could justremember him, standin' at the mill-door, all white with flour, an' rubbin'his hands and laughin', jes' the wayFarmer does. He was a good miller,father said, an' made the mill pay well.But his eldest son, that kem after him,warn't no great shakes, an' he let themill go to wrack and ruin, an' jes' stayedon the farm. An' then he died, an'Cap'n Hartley came (that's the farmer'sfather, ye know), an' he was kind o'crazy, and didn't care about the milleither, an' so there it stayed.

"This way, Miss Hildy!" added the boy,breaking off suddenly, and plunginginto the tangled thicket of shrubs and

brambles that hid the base of the mill."Thar! ye see that hole That's whar I getin. Wait till I clear away the briers a bit!Thar! now ye kin look in."

The "hole" was a square opening, acouple of feet from the ground, andlarge enough for a person of moderatesize to creep through. Hildegardestooped down and looked in. At firstshe saw nothing but utter blackness;but presently her eyes becameaccustomed to the place, and the feeblelight which struggled in past herthrough the opening, revealed strangeobjects which rose here and there fromthe vast pit of darkness, fragments ofrusty iron, bent and twisted into

unearthly shapes; broken beams, theirjagged ends sticking out like stifflypointing fingers; cranks, and bits ofhanging chain; and on the side next thewater, a huge wheel, rising apparentlyout of the bowels of the earth, sincethe lower part of it was invisible. Acold, damp air seemed to rise from theearth. Hilda shivered and drew back,looking rather pale. "What a dreadfulplace!" she cried. "It looks like adungeon of the Inquisition. I thinkyou were very brave to go in there,Bubble. I am sure I should not dare togo; it looks so spectral and frightful."

"Hy Peters stumped me to go," saidBubble, simply, "so o' course I went.

Most of the boys dassent. And it ain'tbad, after the fust time. They do say it'shaunted; but I ain't never seed nothin'."

"Haunted!" cried Hilda, drawing backstill farther from the black opening. "Byby what, Bubble "

"Cap'n's ghost!" replied the boy. "Heused to go rooklin' round in therewhen he was alive, folks say, and somethinks his sperit haunts there now."

"Oh, nonsense!" said Hildegarde, witha laugh which did not sound quitenatural. "Of course you don't believeany such foolishness as that, Bubble.But what did the old old gentleman

want there when he was alive I can'timagine any one going in there forpleasure."

"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'npokin' about with his big stick in thedirt. He looked up an' saw father, an'came at him with his stick up, roarin'like a mad bull, father said. An' he cutan' run, father did, an' he hearn the ol'Cap'n laughin' after him as if he'd havea fit. Crazy as a loon, I reckon theCap'n was, though none of his folksthought so, Ma says."

He let the wild briers fly back about thegloomy opening, and they stepped backon the smooth greensward again. Ah,how bright and warm the sunshine was,after that horrible black pit! Hildashivered again at the thought of it, andthen laughed at her own cowardice. Sheturned and gazed at the waterfall,creaming and curling over the rocks,and making such a merry, musical jestof its tumble into the pool. "Oh, lovely,lovely!" she cried, kissing her hand to it."Bubble, do you know that Hartley'sGlen is without exception the mostbeautiful place in the world "

"No, miss! Be it really " asked

Zerubbabel, seriously. "I allays thought'twas kind of a sightly gully, but I didn'tknow't was all that."

"Well, it is," said Hilda. "It is all that,and more; and I love it! But now,Bubble," she added, "we must makehaste, for the farmer will be wantingyou, and I have a dozen things to dobefore tea."

"Yes, miss," said Bubble, but withouthis usual alacrity.

Hilda saw a look of disappointment inhis honest blue eyes, and asked whatwas the matter. "I ain't had my ballid!"said Zerubbabel, sadly.

"Why, you poor lad, so you haven't!"said Hildegarde. "But you shall have it;I will tell it to you as we walk back tothe farm. Which one will you have, orshall I tell you a new one "

The blue eyes sparkled with the delightof anticipation. "Oh, please!" he cried;"the one about the bold Buckle-oh!"

Hilda laughed merrily. "The bauldBuccleugh " she repeated. "Oh! youmean 'Kinmont Willie.' Yes, indeed, youshall have that. It is one of my favoriteballads, and I am glad you like it."

"Oh, I tell yer!" cried Bubble. "When he

whangs the table, and says do theythink his helmet's an old woman'sbunnit, an' all the rest of it, I tell yethat's some, Miss Hildy!"

"You have the spirit of the verse,Bubble," said Hilda, laughing softly;"but the words are not quite right." Andshe repeated the splendid, ringingwords of Buccleugh's indignant outcry:

"Oh! is my basnet a widow's curch, Ormy lance a wand o' the willow-tree, Ormy arm a lady's lily hand, That anEnglish lord should lightly me

"And have they ta'en him, KinmontWillie, Against the truce of Border tide,

And forgotten that the bauldBuccleugh Is warden here o' theScottish side

"And have they e'en ta'en him,Kinmont Willie, Withouten eitherdread or fear, And forgotten that thebauld Buccleugh Can back a steed orshake a spear "

Zerubbabel Chirk fairly danced up anddown in his excitement "Oh! but beginagain at the beginning, please, MissHildy," he cried.

So Hilda, nothing loth, began at thebeginning; and as they walkedhomeward, recited the whole of the

noble old ballad, which if any girl-reader does not know, she may find itin any collection of Scottish ballads.

"And the best of it is, Bubble," saidHilda, "that it is all true, every word ofit; or nearly every word."

"I'll bet it is!" cried Bubble, still muchexcited. "They couldn't make lies soundlike that, ye know! You kind o' know it'strue, and it goes right through yer,somehow. When did it happen, MissHildy "

"Oh! a long time ago," said Hildegarde;"near the end of the sixteenth century. Iforget just the very year, but it was in

the reign of Queen Elizabeth. She wasvery angry at Buccleugh's breaking intoCarlisle Castle, which was an Englishcastle, you see, and carrying off LordScroope's prisoner; and she sent wordto King James of Scotland that he mustgive up Buccleugh to her to punish asshe saw fit. King James refused at first,for he said that Lord Scroope had beenthe first to break the truce by carryingoff Kinmont Willie in time of peace;but at length he was obliged to yield,for Queen Elizabeth was verypowerful, and always would have herown way. So the 'bauld Buccleugh' wassent to London and brought before thegreat, haughty English queen. But hewas just as haughty as she, and was not

a bit afraid of her. She looked down onhim from her throne (she was verystately, you know, and she wore acrown, and a great stiff ruff, and herdress was all covered with gold andprecious stones), and asked him howhe dared to undertake such a desperateand presumptuous enterprise. AndBuccleugh O Bubble, I always liked thisso much! Buccleugh just looked herfull in the face, and said, 'What is it aman dare not do ' Now QueenElizabeth liked nothing so much as abrave man, and this bold answerpleased her. She turned to one of herministers and said, 'With ten thousandsuch men our brother in Scotlandmight shake the firmest throne in

Europe.' And so she let him go, justbecause he was so brave and sohandsome."

Bubble Chirk drew a long breath, andhis eyes flashed. "I wish't I'd ben alivethen!" he said.

"Why, Bubble " asked Hilda, muchamused; "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 jestter see him, jest ter see the bold Buckle-oh; that's what I call a man!" AndQueen Hildegardis fully agreed withhim.

They had nearly reached the housewhen the boy asked: "If that king washer brother, why did she treat him sokind o' ugly My sister don't act thatway."

"What oh, you mean Queen Elizabeth!"said Hilda, laughing. "King James wasnot her brother, Bubble. They werecousins, but nothing more."

"You said she said 'brother,'" persistedthe boy.

"So I did," replied Hilda. "You see, itwas the fashion, and is still, for kingsand queens to call each other brother

and sister, whether they were reallyrelated to each other or not."

"But I thought they was alwaysfightin'," objected Bubble. "I've got ahist'ry book to home, an' in that it saysthey fit like time whenever they got achance."

"So they did," said Hilda. "But theycalled each other 'our royal brother' and'our beloved sister;' and they werealways paying each other finecompliments, and saying how muchthey loved each other, even in themiddle of a war, when they werefighting as hard as they could."

"Humph!" said Bubble, "nice kind ofolks they must ha' been. Well, I mustgo, Miss Hildy," he added, reluctantly."I've had a splendid time, an' I'm realobleeged to ye. I sh'll try to larn thatstory by heart, 'bout the bold Buckle-oh. I want to tell it to Pink! She'd like itoh, my! wouldn't she like it, jest like Imean jest like spellin'! Good by, MissHildy!" And Bubble ran off to bringhome the cows, his little heart swellinghigh with scorn of kings and queens,and with a fervor of devotion to WalterScott, first lord of Buccleugh.

CHAPTER VII.

PINK CHIRK.

One lovely morning Hildegarde stoodat the back door, feeding the fowls. Shewore her brown gingham frock withthe yellow daisies on it, and the daisy-wreathed hat, and in her hands she helda great yellow bowl full of yellow corn.So bright a picture she made thatFarmer Hartley, driving the oxen afield,stopped for pure pleasure to look ather. Around her the ducks and henswere fighting and squabbling, quacking,clucking, and gobbling, and she flungthe corn in golden showers on theirheads and backs, making them nearlyfrantic with greedy anxiety.

"Wal, Huldy," said the farmer, leaningagainst Bright's massive side, "you lookpooty slick in that gown, I must say. Ireckon thar ain't no sech gown as thaton Fifth Avenoo, hey "

"Indeed, I don't believe there is, FarmerHartley," replied Hilda, laughingmerrily; "at least I never saw one like it.It is pretty, I think, and so comfortable!And where are you going this morningwith the mammoths "

"Down to the ten-acre lot," replied thefarmer. "The men are makin' hay thar

to-day. Jump into the riggin' and comealong," he added. "Ye kin hev a littleride, an' see the hay-makin'. Pooty sight'tis, to my thinkin'."

"May I " cried Hilda, eagerly. "I am surethese fowls have had enough. Go awaynow, you greedy creatures! There, youshall have all there is!" and she emptiedthe bowl over the astonished dignitariesof the barn-yard, laid it down on thesettle in the porch, and jumped gaylyinto the "rigging," as the great hay-cartwas called.

"Haw, Bright! hoish, Star!" said thefarmer, touching one and then theother of the great black oxen lightly

with his goad. The huge beasts swayedfrom side to side, and finally succeededin getting themselves and the cart inmotion, while the farmer walkedleisurely beside them, tapping andpoking them occasionally, and talkingto them in that mystic language whichonly oxen and their drivers understand.Down the sweet country lane theywent, with the willows hanging overthem, and the daisies and buttercupsand meadow-sweet running riot allover the banks. Hilda stood up in thecart and pulled off twigs from thewillows as she passed under them, andmade garlands, which the farmerobediently put over the oxen's necks.She hummed little snatches of song,

and chatted gayly with her kind oldhost; for the world was very fair, andher heart was full of summer andsunshine.

"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 was ten yearold when my uncle died, and father leftsea-farin', and kem home to the farm tolive. Before that we'd lived in differentplaces, movin' round, like. We was atsea a good deal, sailin' with father whenhe went on pleasant voyages, to theWest Indies, or sich. But sence then I

ain't ben away much. I don't seem tofind no pleasanter place than the oldfarm, somehow."

"I don't believe there is any pleasanterplace in the world!" said Hilda, warmly."I am sure I have never been so happyanywhere as I have here."

Farmer Hartley looked up with atwinkle in his eye. "Ye've changed yerviews some, Huldy, hain't ye, sence thefust day ye kem heer I didn't neverthink, then, as I'd be givin' you rides inthe hay-riggin', sech a fine young ladyas you was."

Hilda gave him an imploring glance,

while the blood mounted to hertemples. "Please, Farmer Hartley," shesaid in a low voice, "please try to forgetthat first day. It isn't my views that havechanged," she added, "it is I myself. Idon'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." He walked alongin silence for a few minutes, and thensaid, "'Tis curus how folks kinsometimes change 'emselves, one wayor the other. 'Tain't so with critturs; 'tleast so fur's I've obsarved. The waythey're born, that way they'll stay. Nowlook at them oxen! When they wasyoung steers, hardly more'n calves, I

began to train them critturs. An' fromthe very fust go-off they tuk their cuean' stuck to it. Star, thar, would lay out,and shake his head, an' pull for all hewas wuth, as if there was nothin' in theworld to do but pull; and Bright, he'dwait till Star was drawin' good an' solid,an' then he'd as much as say, 'Oh! youkin pull all that, kin ye Well, stick to it,my boy, an' I'll manage to trifle alongwith the rest o' the load.' Wo-hoish, Star!haw, Bright! git up, ye old humbug!You're six year old now, an' you ain'tchanged a mite in four years, thoughI've drove you stiddy, and tried to sparethe other every time."

The green lane broke off suddenly, and

such a blaze of sunlight flashed uponthem that Hilda involuntarily raised herhand to shield her eyes. The greatmeadow lay open before them, anundulating plain of gold. The haycockslooked dull and gray-green upon it; butwhere the men were tossing the haywith their long wooden rakes, it flashedpale-golden in the sunlight, and filledthe air with flying gleams. Also the airwas filled with the sweetness of thehay, 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. Andthen, in a graver tone, and removing his

battered straw hat, "I don't never seemto see the glory of the Lord no plainerthan in a hay-field, a day like this. Yes,sir! if a man can't be a Christian on afarm in summer, he can't be it nowhere.Amen!" and Farmer Hartley put on hishat and proceeded straightway tobusiness. "Now, Huldy," he said, "hereye be! I'm goin' to load up this riggin',an' ye kin stay round here a spell, if yelike, an' run home when ye like. Ye kinfind the way, I reckon "

"Oh, yes!" said Hilda; "yes, indeed! ButI shall stay here for a while, and watchyou. And mayn't I toss the hay too alittle "

But her courage failed when she foundthat to do this she must mingle with thecrowd of strange haymakers; andbesides, among them she saw theclumsy form and shock head ofCaliban, as she had secretly named theclownish and surly nephew of hergood host. This fellow was the onebitter drop in Hilda's cup. Everythingelse she had learned to like, in themonth which had passed since shecame to Hartley's Glen. The farmer andhis wife she loved as they deserved tobe loved. The little maidservant was heradoring slave, and secretly sewed herboot-buttons on, and mended herstockings, as some small return for thelessons in crochet and fancy knitting

that she had received from the skilfulwhite fingers which were a perpetualmarvel to her. But Simon Hartleyremained what she had at first thoughthim, a sullen, boorish churl. He was amalevolent churl too, Hildegardethought; indeed she was sure of it. Shehad several times seen his eyes fixed onhis uncle with a look of positivehatred; and though Farmer Hartley waspersistently kind and patient with him,trying often to draw him intoconversation, and make him join in thepleasant evening talks which they allenjoyed, his efforts were unsuccessful.The fellow came in, gobbled his food,and then went off, if his work wasover, to hide himself in his own room.

Hilda was quite sure that Nurse Lucyliked this oaf no better than she herselfdid, though the good woman neverspoke impatiently or unkindly to him,and indeed it would be difficult for anyone to like him, she thought, exceptpossibly his own mother.

Our Queen took presently her seat on aright royal throne of fragrant hay, andgave herself up to the full delight ofthe summer morning, and of the "Fieldof the Cloth of Gold," as she hadinstantly named the shining yellowplain, which more prosaic souls knewas "the ten-acre lot." The hay rustledpleasantly as she nestled down in it, andmade a little penthouse over her head,

to keep off the keen, hot sun-arrows.There was a great oak-tree too, whichpartly shaded this favored haycock, andon one of its branches a squirrel camerunning out, and then sat up andlooked at Hildegarde with bright,inquisitive eyes. A maiden, all brownand gold, on a golden haycock! Whatstrange apparition was this Had shecome for acorns Did she know aboutthe four young ones in the snug littlehouse in the hollow just above the firstbranch! Perhaps dreadful thought! shehad heard of the marvellous beauty ofthe four young ones, and had come tosteal them. "Chip!" whisk! and MadamSquirrel was off up the branch like astreak of brown lightning, with its tail

up.

Hilda laughed at the squirrel's alarm,and then turned her attention to a largegreen grasshopper who seemed todemand it. He had alighted on herknee, and now proceeded to exhibit hisdifferent points before her admiringgaze with singular gravity anddeliberation. First he slowly opened hiswings, to show the delicate silverygauze of the under-wings; then asslowly closed them, demonstrating theperfect fit of his whole wing-costumeand the harmony of its colors. He nextextended one leg, calling her attentionto its remarkable length and muscularproportions. Then, lest she should

think he had but one, he extended theother; and then gave a vigorous hopwith both of them, to show her that hedid not really need wings, but could geton perfectly well without them. Finallyhe rubbed himself all over with hislong antennae, and then, pointing themfull at her, and gazing at her with calmand dispassionate eyes, he said plainlyenough: "And now, Monster, what haveyou to show me "

Hildegarde was wondering how shecould best dispel the scorn with whichthis majestic insect evidently regardedher, when suddenly something newappeared on her gown, somethingblack, many-legged, hairy, most

hideous; something which ran swiftlybut stealthily, with a motion which senta thrill of horror through her veins. Shestarted up with a little shriek, shakingoff the unlucky spider as if it had beenthe Black Death in concrete. Then shelooked round with flaming cheeks, tosee if her scream had been heard by thehay-makers. No, they were far away, andtoo busy to take heed of her. But thecharm was broken. Queen Hildegardehad plenty of courage of a certain sort,but she could not face a spider. Thegolden throne had become a "siegeperilous," and she abdicated in favor ofthe grasshopper and his black andhorrent visitor.

What should she do now The charmof the morning had made her idle anddrowsy, and she did not feel like goinghome to help Nurse Lucy in makingthe butter, though she often did so withright good-will. She looked dreamilyaround, her eyes wandering here andthere over the great meadow and theneat stone walls which bounded it.Presently she spied the chimneys andpart of the red roof of a little cottagewhich peeped from a thick clump oftrees just beyond the wall. Who lived inthat cottage, Hilda wondered. Whyshould she not go and see She was verythirsty, and there she might get a glassof water. Oh! perhaps it was Bubble'scottage, where he and his mother and

his sister Pink lived. Now she thoughtof it, Bubble had told her that he lived"over beyont the ten-acre lot;" ofcourse this must be the place. Slowlyshe walked across the meadow andclimbed the wall, wondering a gooddeal about the people whom she wasgoing to see. She had often meant toask Bubble more about his sister withthe queer name; but the lesson-hourwas so short, and there were always somany questions for Bubble to ask andfor her to answer besides the regularlesson, that she always forgot it till toolate. Pink Chirk! what could a girl belike with such a name as that Hildafancied her a stout, buxom maiden,with very red cheeks and very black

eyes yes, certainly, the eyes must beblack! Her hair well, one could not beso sure about her hair; but there was nodoubt about her wearing a pink dressand a blue checked apron. And shemust be smiling, bustling, and energetic.Yes! Hilda had the picture of hercomplete in her mind. She wonderedthat this active, stirring girl never cameup to the farm; but of course she musthave a great deal of work to do athome.

By this time Hildegarde had reachedthe cottage; and after a moment'shesitation she knocked softly at thegreen-painted door. No one came toopen the door, but presently she heard

a clear, pleasant voice from withinsaying, "Open the door and come in,please!" Following this injunction, sheentered the cottage and found herselfdirectly in the sitting-room, and face toface with its occupant. This was a girlof her own age, or perhaps a year older,who sat in a wheeled chair by thewindow. She was very fair, with almostflaxen hair, and frank, pleasant blueeyes. She was very pale, very thin; thehands that lay on her lap were almosttransparent; but she wore a pink calicodress and a blue checked apron. Whocould this be and whoever it was, whydid she sit still when a visitor and astranger 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 overher face, making it for the momentpositively beautiful. "How do you do "she said, holding out her thin hand. "Iam sure you must be Miss HildaGraham, and I am Bubble's sister Pink.

"Please sit down," she added. "I am sovery glad to see you. I have wantedagain and again to thank you for allyour kindness to my Bubble, but Ididn't know when I should have achance. Did Bubble show you the way"

Hildegarde was so astonished, sotroubled, so dismayed that she hardlyknew what she was saying or doing. Shetook the slender fingers in her own foran instant, and then sat down, sayinghastily: "Oh, no! I I found my wayalone. I was not sure of its being yourcottage, though I thought it must befrom what Bubble told me." Shepaused; and then, unable to keep backlonger the words which sprang to herlips, 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 not beenill," she said. "I am always like this. I

cannot walk, you know, but I am verywell indeed."

"You cannot walk " stammered Hilda.

The girl saw her look of horror, and afaint color stole into her wan cheek."Did not Bubble tell you " she asked,gently; and then, as Hilda shook herhead, "It is such a matter of course tohim," she said; "he never thinks aboutit, I suppose, dear little fellow. I wasrun over when I was three years old,and I have never been able to walksince."

Hildegarde could not speak. Thethought of anything so dreadful, so

overwhelming as this, coming sosuddenly, too, upon her, seemed to takeaway her usually ready speech, and shewas dumb, gazing at the cheerful facebefore her with wide eyes of pity andwonderment. But Pink Chirk did notlike to be pitied, as a rule; and shealmost laughed at her visitor's horror-stricken face.

"You mustn't look so!" she cried. "It'svery kind of you to be sorry, but it isn'tas if I were really ill, you know. I canalmost stand on one foot, that is, I canbear enough weight on it to get frommy bed to my chair without help. Thatis a great thing! And then when I amonce in my chair, why I can go almost

anywhere. Farmer Hartley gave me thischair," she added, looking down at it,and patting the arm tenderly, as if itwere a living friend; "isn't it a beauty "

It was a pretty chair, made of cherrywood, with cushions of gay-floweredchintz; and Hilda, finding her voiceagain, praised it warmly. "This is itssummer dress," said Pink, her eyessparkling with pleasure. "Underneath,the cushions are covered with softcrimson cloth, oh, so pretty, and sowarm-looking! I am always glad whenit's time to take the chintz covers off.And yet I am always glad to put themon again," she added, "for the chintz ispretty 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, ofcourse, I can't go out; and sometimes itseems a little long, when Bubble is awayall day, not very, you know, but just alittle. But in summer, oh, then I am sohappy! I can go all round the place bymyself, and sit out in the garden, andfeed the chickens, and take care of theflowers. And then on Sunday Bubblealways gives me a good ride along theroad. My chair moves very easily, onlysee!" She gave a little push, andpropelled herself half way across thelittle room.

At this moment the inner door opened,and Mrs. Chirk appeared, a slender,anxious-looking woman, with hairprematurely gray. She greeted Hildawith nervous cordiality, and thankedher earnestly for her kindness toZerubbabel. "He ain't the same boy,Miss Graham," she said, "sence youbegun givin' him lessons. He used tofret and worrit 'cause there warn't noschool, and he couldn't ha' gone to it ifthere was. Pinkrosia learned him whatshe could; but we hain't many books,you see. But now! why that boy comesinto the house singin' and spoutin'poetry at the top of his lungs, jest ashappy as a kitten with a spool. What

was that he was shoutin' this mornin',Pinkrosia, when he scairt the old blackhen nigh to death "

"'Charge for the golden lilies! Uponthem with the lance!'" murmured Pink,with a smile.

"Yes, that was it!" said Mrs. Chirk. "Hewas lookin' out of the window andpumpin' at the same time, an' spoutin'them verses too. And all of a suddenhe cries out, 'Ther's the brood of darkMy Hen, scratchin' up the sweet peas.Upon them with the lance!' And he letsgo the pump-handle, and it flies up andhits the shelf and knocks off twoplates and a cup, and Bubble, he's off

with the mop-handle, chasin' the oldblack hen and makin' believe run herthrough, till she e'enamost died offright. Well, there, it give me a turn; itreelly did!" She paused rather sadly,seeing that her hearers were bothovercome with laughter.

"I I am very sorry, Mrs. Chirk, that theplates were broken," said Hilda; "but itmust have been extremely funny. Poorold hen! she must have been frightened,certainly. Do you know," she added, "Ithink Bubble is a remarkably bright boy.I am very sure that he will make a namefor himself, if only he can have propertraining."

"Presume likely!" said Mrs. Chirk, withmelancholy satisfaction. "His father wasa real smart man. There warn't no betterhayin' hand in the county than LoammiChirk. And I'm in hopes Zerubbabelwill do as well, for he has a good friendin Farmer Hartley; no boy couldn't havea better."

Eminence in the profession of"haying" was not precisely what Hildahad meant; but she said nothing.

"And my poor girl here," Mrs. Chirkcontinued after a pause, "she sets in hercheer hay-times and other times. You'veheard of her misfortune, Miss Graham"

Pink interposed quickly with a littlelaugh, though her brows contractedslightly, as if with pain. "Oh, yes,Mother dear!" she said; "Miss Grahamhas heard all about me, and knowswhat a very important person I am. Butwhere is the yarn that I was to wind foryou I thought you wanted to beginweaving this afternoon."

"Oh!" exclaimed Hildegarde. "Nevermind the yarn just now, Pink! I want togive you a little ride before I go back tothe farm. May she go, Mrs. Chirk It issuch a beautiful day, I am sure the airwill do her good. Would you like it,Pink "

Pink looked up with a flush ofpleasure on her pale cheek. "Oh," shesaid, "would I like it! But it's too muchfor you to do, Miss Graham."

"An' with that beautiful dress on too!"cried Mrs. Chirk. "You'd get it dusty onthe 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. Ialways 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 underPink's chin, every fibre within hermutely protesting against its extremeugliness. "She shall not wear that again,"said she to herself, "if I can help it."But the sweet pale face looked out sojoyously from the dingy yellow tunnelthat the stern young autocrat relented."After all, what does it matter " shethought. "She would look like an angel,even with a real coal-scuttle on herhead." And then she laughed at thethought of a black japanned scuttlecrowning those fair locks; and Pinklaughed because Hilda laughed; and sothey both went laughing out into thesunshine.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE LETTER.

"Nurse Lucy," said Hildegarde thatevening, as they sat in the porch aftertea, "why have you never told me aboutPink Chirk, about her being a cripple, Imean I had no idea of it till I went tosee her to-day. How terrible it is!"

"I wonder that I haven't told you, dear!"replied Nurse Lucy, placidly. "I supposeI am so used to Pink as she is, I forgetthat she ever was like other people. Sheis a dear, good child, his 'sermon,' Jacob

calls her. He says that whenever he feelsimpatient or put out, he likes to godown and look at Pink, and hear hertalk. '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 whenshe Oh, think of it, Nurse Lucy! It istoo dreadful. Tell me how ithappened."

"Don't ask me, my dear!" said DameHartley, sadly. "Why should you hearanything so painful It would onlyhaunt your mind as it haunted mine foryears after. The worst of it was, therewas no need of it. Her mother was a

young, flighty, careless girl, and shedidn't look after her baby as she shouldhave done. That is all you need know,Hilda, my dear! Poor Susan Chirk! ittook the flightiness out of her, andmade her the anxious, melancholy soulshe has been ever since. Then Bubblewas born, and soon after her husbanddied, and since then she has had a hardtime to fend for herself. But Pink hasnever been any trouble to her, only ahelp and a comfort; and her neighborshave done what they could from timeto time."

Dame Hartley might have said that sheand her husband had kept this desolatewidow and her children from

starvation through many a long winter,and had given her the means of earningher daily bread in summer; had clothedthe children, and provided comfortsfor the crippled girl. But this was notNurse Lucy's way. The neighbors haddone what they could, she said; andnow Bubble was earning good wagesfor a boy, and was sure to get on well,being bright and industrious; and Mrs.Chirk took in weaving to do for theneighbors, and went out sometimes towork by the day; and so they were reallygetting on very well, better than onecould have hoped.

Hildegarde laid her head against thegood Dame's shoulder and fell into a

brown study. Nurse Lucy seemed alsoin a thoughtful mood; and so the twosat quietly in the soft twilight till the redglow faded in the west, and left in itsstead a single star, gleaming like a livingjewel in the purple sky. All the birdswere asleep save the untiringwhippoorwill, who presented his pleafor the castigation of the unhappyWilliam with ceaseless energy. A littlenight-breeze came up, and saidpleasant, soft things to the leaves, whichrustled gently in reply, and the cricketsgave their usual evening concert,beginning with a movement in G sharp,allegro con moto. Other sound there wasnone, until by and by the noise ofwheels was heard, and the click of old

Nancy's hoofs; and out of thegathering darkness Farmer Hartleyappeared, just returned from the village,whither he had gone to makearrangements about selling his hay.

"Wal, Marm Lucy," he said, cheerfully,throwing the reins on Nancy's neck andjumping from the wagon, "is that yousettin' thar 'Pears to me I see somethin'like a white apun gloomin' out o' thedark."

"Yes, Jacob," answered "Marm Lucy," "Iam here, and so is Hilda. The eveninghas been so lovely, we have not had theheart to light the lamps, but have justbeen sitting here watching the sunset.

We'll come in now, though," she added,leading the way into the house. "You'llbe wanting some supper, my man. Ordid ye stop at Cousin Sarah's "

"I stopped at Sary's," replied the farmer."Ho! ho! yes, Sary gave me somesupper, though she warn't in no moodfor seein' comp'ny, even her own kin.Poor Sary! she was in a dretful takin',sure enough!"

"Why, what was the matter " askedDame Hartley, as she trimmed andlighted the great lamp, and drew theshort curtains of Turkey red cottonacross the windows. "Is Abner sickagain!"

"Shouldn't wonder if he was, by thistime," replied the farmer; "but he warn'tat the beginnin' of it. I'll tell ye how'twas;" and he sat down in his greatleather chair, and stretched his legs outcomfortably before him, while his wifefilled 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's kind o'savin', ye know, Sary is [Nurse Lucynodded, with a knowing air], and shehadn't had a new bunnit for ten years.(I d' 'no' 's she's had one for twenty!" headded in parenthesis; "I never seed herwith one to my knowledge.) Wal, the

gals was pesterin' her, an' sayin' shedidn't look fit to go to meetin' in theold bunnit, so 't last she giv' way, andwent an' bought a new one. 'Twas oneo' these newfangled shapes. What was itLizy called it Somethin' Chinese, Ireckon. Fan Song! That was it!"

"Fanchon, wasn't it, perhaps " askedHilda, much amused.

"That's what I said, warn't it " said thefarmer. "Fan Song, Fan Chong, wal,what's the odds 'Twas a queer lookin'thing, anyhow, I sh'd think, even aforeit Wal, I'm comin' to that. Sary showedit 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 rummagedround consid'able upstairs, an' whenshe kum down, lo and behold, thebunnit was gone! Wal, Sary huntedhigh, and she hunted low. She calledthe gals, thinkin' they'd played a trickon her, an' hidden it for fun. But theyhadn't, an' they all set to an' sarched thehouse from garrit to cellar; but theydidn't find hide nor hair o' that bunnit.At last Sary give it up, an' sot down outo' breath, an' mad enough to eatsomebody. 'It's been stole!' says she.'Some ornery critter kem along while Iwas upstairs,' says she, 'an' seed it lyin'thar on the table, an' kerried it off!' saysshe. 'I'd like to get hold of her!' says

she; 'I guess she wouldn't steal no morebunnits for one while!' says she. I hadcome in by that time, an' she was tellin'me all about it. Jest at that minute thedoor opened, and Abner kem sa'nterin'in, mild and moony as usual 'Sary,' sayshe, ho! ho! ho! it makes me laugh tothink on't, 'Sary,' says he, 'I wouldn'tbuy no more baskets without handles,ef I was you. They ain't convenient tokerry,' says he. And with that he setsdown on the table that Fan Chongbunnit! He'd been mixin' chicken feedin it, an' he'd held it fust by one side an'then by the other, an' he'd dropped it inthe mud too, I reckon, from the looksof it: you never seed sech a lookin'thing in all your born days as that

bunnit was. Sary, she looked at it, andthen she looked at Abner, an' then atthe bunnit agin; an' then she let fly."

"Poor Sarah!" said Nurse Lucy, wipingtears of merriment from her eyes."What did she say "

"I can't tell ye what she said," repliedthe farmer. "What did your old cat saywhen Spot caught hold of her tail theother day An' yet there was languageenough in what Sary said. I tell ye thehull dictionary was flyin' round thatroom for about ten minutes, Webster'sUnabridged, an' nothin' less. An' Abner,he jest stood thar, bobbin' his head upan' down, and openin' an' shettin' his

mouth, as if he'd like to say somethin'if he could get a chance. But when Sarywas so out of breath that she couldn'tsay another word, an' hed to stop for aminute, Abner jest says, 'Sary, I guessyou're a little excited. Jacob an' me'll goout an' take a look at the stock,' says he,'and come back when you're feelin'calmer.' An' he nods to me, an' out weboth goes, before Sary could git herbreath agin. I didn't say nothin', 'cause Iwas 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. Whenwe got to the stable-door he looked atme a minute, and then he said, 'Thetongue is a onruly member, Jacob! I

thought that was kind of a curus lookin'basket, though!' and that was everyword he said about it."

"Oh, what delightfully funny people!"cried Hilda. "What did the wife saywhen you came in to supper, FarmerHartley "

"She warn't thar," replied the farmer."She had a headache, the gals said, andhad gone to bed. I sh'd think she wouldhave had a headache, but thar," headded, rising suddenly and beginningto search in his capacious pockets, "Ideclar' for 't, if I hain't forgottenHuldy's letter! Sary an' her bunnit puteverything else out of my head."

Hilda sprang up in delight to receivethe envelope which the farmer handedto her; but her face fell a little when shesaw that it was not from her parents.She reflected, however, that she hadhad a double letter only two daysbefore, and that she could not expectanother for a week, as Mr. and Mrs.Graham wrote always with militarypunctuality. There was no doubt as tothe authorship of the letter. Thedelicate pointed handwriting, the tinyseal of gilded wax, the faint perfumewhich the missive exhaled, all said toher at once, "Madge Everton."

With a feeling which, if not quite

reluctance, was still not quite alacrity,Hildegarde broke the pretty seal, withits Cupid holding a rose to his lips, andread as follows:

SARATOGA, July 20.

MY DEAREST, SWEETEST HILDA,Can it be possible that you have beenaway a whole month, and that I havenot written to you I am awfullyashamed! but I have been so TOObusy, it has been out of the question.Papa decided quite suddenly to comehere instead of going to Long Branch;and you can imagine the frantic amountof work Mamma and I had to get ready.One has to dress so much at Saratoga,

you know; and we cannot just send anorder to Paris, as you do, my dearQueen, for all we want, but have toscratch round (I know you don't allowyour subjects to use slang, but we DOscratch round, and nothing else canexpress it), and get things made here. Ihave a lovely pale blue Henrietta-cloth,made like that rose-colored gown ofyours that I admire so much, and thatyou SAID I might copy. Mamma says itwas awfully good of you, and that shewouldn't let any one copy her Frenchdresses if she had them; but I told heryou were awfully good, and that waswhy. Well, then I have a white nun's-veiling, made with triple box-plaits, anda lovely pointed overskirt, copied from a

Donovan dress of Mamma's; and adark-red surah, and oh! a perfect "frou-frou" of wash-dresses, of course; twosweet white lawns, one trimmed withvalenciennes (I hate valenciennes, youknow, but Mamma will make me have it,because she thinks it is jeune fille!), andone with the new Russian lace; and apink sateen, and two or three lightchambrays.

But now I know you will be dying tohear about my hats; for you always saythat the hat makes the costume; and so itdoes! Well, my dearest, I have oneRedfern hat, and only one. Mamma saysI cannot expect to have more until Icome out, which is bitter. However, this

one is a beauty, and yet cost only thirtydollars. It goes well with nearly all mydresses, and is immensely becoming, allthe girls say: very high, with longpointed wings and stiff bows. Simple,my dear, doesn't express it! You know ILOVE simplicity; but it is Redferny to adegree, and everybody has noticed it.

Well, my dearest Queen, here am Irunning on about myself, as if I werenot actually EXPIRING to hear aboutyou. What my feelings were when Icalled at your house on that fatal Tuesdayand was told that you had gone tospend the summer on a farm in thedepths of the country, passes my power totell. I could not ask your mother many

questions, for you know I am always alittle bit AFRAID of her, though she isperfectly lovely to me! She was very quietand sweet, as usual, and spoke as if itwere the most natural thing in the worldfor a brilliant society girl (for that iswhat you are, Hilda, even though youare only a school-girl; and you NEVERcan be anything else!) to spend hersummer in a wretched farm-house,among pigs and cows and dreadfulignorant people. Of course, Hildadearest, you know that my admirationfor your mother is simply IMMENSE,and that I would not for worlds say onesyllable against her judgment and that ofyour military angel of a father; but IMUST say it seemed to me MORE

than strange. I assure you I hardlyclosed my eyes for several nights,thinking of the MISERY you must beundergoing; for I KNOW you,Hildegarde! and the thought of myproud, fastidious, high-bred Queenbeing condemned to associate withclowns and laborers was really MOREthan I could bear. Do write to me,darling, and tell me HOW you areenduring it. You were always sosensitive; why, I can see your lip curlnow, when any of the girls did anythingthat was not tout a fait comme il faut! andthe air with which you used to say,"The little things, my dear, are the onlythings!" How true it is! I feel it more andmore every day. So do write at once, and

let me know all about your dear self. Ipicture you to myself sometimes, paleand thin, with the "white disdain" thatsome poet or other speaks of, in yourface, but enduring all the HORRORSthat you must be subjected to with yourOWN DIGNITY. Dearest Hilda, youare indeed a HEROINE!

Always, darling, Your own deeplydevoted and sympathizing MADGE.

Hildegarde looked up after reading thisletter, and, curiously enough, her eyesfell directly on a little mirror whichhung on the wall opposite. In it she sawa rosy, laughing face, which smiled backmischievously at her. There were

dimples in the cheeks, and the gray eyeswere fairly dancing with life andjoyousness. Where was the "whitedisdain," the dignity, the pallor andemaciation Could this be Madge'sQueen Hildegarde Or rather, thoughtthe girl, with a sudden revulsion offeeling, could this Hildegarde ever havebeen the other The form of "theminx," long since dissociated from herthoughts and life, seemed to rise, likeBanquo's ghost, and stare at her withcold, disdainful eyes and superciliouscurl of the lip. Oh DEAR! howdreadful it was to have been so odious!How could poor dear Papa andMamma, bless them, have endured heras they did, so patiently and sweetly But

they should see when they came back!She had only just begun yet; but therewere two months still before her, and inthat time what could she not do Theyshould be surprised, those dear parents!And Madge why, Madge would besurprised too. Poor Madge! To think ofher in Saratoga, prinking and preeningherself like a gay bird, in the midst of awhirl of dress and diamonds andgayety, with no fields, no woods, noglen, no no kitchen! Hilda looked aboutthe room which she had learned so tolove, trying to fancy Madge Everton init; remembering, too, the bitterness ofher first feeling about it. The lamplightshone cheerily on the yellow paintedwalls, the shining floor, the gleaming

brass, copper, and china. It lighted upthe red curtains and made a halo roundgood Nurse Lucy's head as she bentover her sewing; it played on thefarmer's silver-bowed spectacles as hepored with knitted brows and earnestlook over the weekly paper which hehad brought from the village. Thegood, kind farmer! Hilda gazed at himas he sat all unconscious, and wonderedwhy she had not seen at once howhandsome he really was. The broadforehead, with its deep, thoughtfulfurrows; the keen, yet kindly blue eyes;the "sable-silvered" hair and beard,which, if not exactly smooth, were stillso picturesque, so leonine; the firm,perhaps obstinate, mouth, which could

speak so wisely and smile so cordially,all these combined to make up what thenewspapers would call a "singularlyattractive exterior." And "Oh! how goodhe has been to me!" thought Hilda. "Ibelieve he is the best man in the world,next to papa." Then she thought ofMadge again, and tried to fancy her inher Redfern hat, pretty Madge, with herblack eyes and curly fringe, under the"simplicity" of the heaven-aspiringwings and bows; and as she smiled atthe image, there rose beside it the fairhead of Pink Chirk, looking out like awhite rose from the depths of herdingy straw tunnel. Then she fanciedherself saying airily (she knew just howshe used to say it), "The little things, my

dear, are the only things!" and then shelaughed aloud at the very funniness ofit.

"Hut! tut!" said Farmer Hartley, lookingup from his paper with a smile. "What'sall this Are ye keepin' all the jokes toyerself, Huldy "

"It is only my letter that is so funny,"replied Hilda. "I don't believe it wouldseem so funny to you, Farmer Hartley,because you don't know the writer. Buthave you finished your paper, and areyou ready for Robin Hood "

"Wal, I am, Huldy!" said the goodfarmer, laying aside his paper and

rubbing his hands with an air ofpleasurable anticipation. "'Pears to mewe left that good-lookin' singin' chapwhat was his name "

"Allan-a-Dale!" said Hilda, smiling.

"Ah!" said the farmer; "Allan-a-Dale.'Pears to me we left him in rayther aticklish situation."

"Oh, but it comes out all right!" criedHilda, joyously, rising to fetch the goodbrown book which she loved. "Youwill see in the next chapter howdelightfully Robin gets him out of thedifficulty." She ran and brought thebook and drew her chair up to the

table, and all three prepared for an hourof solid enjoyment. "But before Ibegin," she said, "I want you topromise, Farmer Hartley, to take mewith you the next time you go to thevillage. I must buy a hat for Pink Chirk."

CHAPTER IX.

THE OLD CAPTAIN.

"Let me see!" said Farmer Hartley, as hegathered up the reins and turned oldNancy's head towards the village, whileHildegarde, on the seat beside him,turned back to wave a merry farewell to

Nurse Lucy, who stood smiling in theporch. "Let me see! Hev you ben offthe farm before, Huldy, sence you kemhere "

"Not once!" replied Hilda, cheerily."And I don't believe I should be goingnow, Farmer Hartley, if it were not forPink's hat. I promised myself that sheshould not wear that ugly straw sun-bonnet again. I wonder why anythingso hideous was ever invented."

"A straw bunnit, do ye mean " said thefarmer; "somethin' like a long sugar-scoop, or a tunnel like "

"Yes, just that!" said Hilda; "and

coming down over her poor dear eyesso that she cannot see anything, exceptfor a few inches straight before her."

"Wal!" said the farmer, meditatively, "Iremember when them bunnits wasconsidered reel hahnsome. Marm Lucyhad one when she was a gal; I mind itright well. A white straw it was, withblue ribbons on top of it. It come closeround her pooty face, an' I used to hevto sidle along and get round in front ofher before I could get a look at her. Ihed rayther a grudge agin the bunnit onthat account; but I supposed it washahnsome, as everybody said so. I neversee 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 the farmer'sstories. "Please tell me about them!"

The farmer shook his head, as was hiswont when he was about to relapse intoreminiscences, and gave old Nancyseveral thoughtful taps with the whip,which she highly resented.

"Ol' Mis' Meeker," he said, presently,"she was a character, she was! She didn'tbelong hereabouts, but down Southsomewhere, but she was cousin toCephas Tyson, an' when Cephas' wife

died, she came to stop with him a spell,an' look out for his children. Threechildren there was, little Cephas, an'Myrick, an' 'Melia. 'Melia, she was apeart, lively little gal, with snappin'black eyes, an' consid'ble of a will ofher own; an' Mis' Meeker, she waspooty stout, an' she took things easy,jest as they kem, an' let the children an''Melia specially do pooty much asthey'd a mind to. Wal, one day Ihappened in to see Cephas about a pairo' steers I was thinkin' o' buyin'. Cephaswas out; but Mis' Meeker said he'd beright in, she reckoned, an' asked me totake a cheer an' 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, Aunt Cilly, canI go down an' play with Eddie Hewants me to come, reel bad. Can I,Aunt Cilly ' 'Not to-day, dearie,' saysMis' Meeker; 'you was down to playwith Eddie yesterday, an' I reckon that'lldo for one while!' she says. I looked atlittle 'Melia, an' her eyes was snappin'like coals. She didn't say nothin', butshe jest took an' shoved her elbow rightthrough the plate-glass winder. Ho! ho!Cephas had had his house made over,an' he was real proud of his plate-glasswinders. I d' 'no' how much they'd costhim, but 'twas a pooty good sum. An'she shoved her elbow right through itand smashed it into shivers. I jumpedup, kind o' startled by the crash. But ol'

Mis' Meeker, she jes' looked up, as ifshe was a leetle bit surprised, but nothin'wuth mentionin'. 'Why, honey!' says she,in her slow, drawlin' kind o' way, 'Ididn't know ye wanted to go that bad!Put on yer bunnit, an' go an' play withEddie this minute!' says she. Ho! ho! ho!Them was her very words. An' 'Melia,she tossed her bunnit on (one o' themstraw Shakers it was, an' that's whatmade me think o' the story), and jes'shook the glass out'n her sleeve, I d' 'no'why the child warn't cut to pieces, butshe didn't seem t' have got no hurt, andmade a face at her aunt, an' off shewent. That's the way them children wasbrought up."

"Poor things!" cried Hilda. "Whatbecame of them, Farmer Hartley "

"'Melia, she run off an' married a circusfeller," replied the farmer, "an' the boys,I don't rightly know what become of'em. They went out West, I b'lieve; an'after 'Melia married, Cephas went outto jine 'em, an' I ain't heerd nothin' of'em for years."

By this time they were rattling throughthe main street of the little village, andpresently stopped before anunpretending little shop, in the windowof which were displayed some ratherforlorn-looking hats and bonnets.

"Here y'are, Huldy!" said the farmer,pointing to the shop with a flourish ofhis whip. "Here's whar ye git the stylesfust hand. Hev to come from NewYork to Glenfield to git the reel thing,ye see."

"I see!" laughed Hilda, springing lightlyfrom the wagon.

"I'll call for ye in 'bout half an hour;"and with a kindly nod the farmer droveaway down the street.

Hildegarde entered the dingy little shopwith some misgivings, "I hope I shallfind something fresh!" she said to herself;"those things in the window look as if

they had been there since the Flood."She quickly made friends with the brisklittle milliner, and they were soonturning over the meagre store of hats,trimmed and untrimmed.

"This is real tasty!" said the littlewoman, lifting with honest pride analarming structure of green satin,which some straggling cock's featherswere doing their best to hide.

Hilda shuddered, but said pleasantly,"Rather heavy for summer; don't youthink so It would be better for a winterhat. What is this " she added, drawingfrom the farthest recesses of the box anuntrimmed hat of rough yellow straw.

"I think perhaps this will do, MissBean."

"Oh my land, no! you don't want that!"cried the little milliner, aghast. "That'sonly common doin's, anyhow; and it'sbeen in that box three years. Themshapes ain't worn now."

"Never mind!" said Hilda, merrily; "it isperfectly fresh, and I like the shape. Justwait till you see it trimmed, Miss Bean.May I rummage a little among yourdrawers I will not toss the thingsabout."

A piece of dotted mull and a bunch ofsoft pink roses rewarded her search;

and with these and a bit of rose-colored ribbon she proceeded to makethe rough straw into so dainty andbewitching a thing that Miss Bean satfairly petrified with amazement on herlittle hair-cloth sofa in the back shop."Why! why!" she said. "If that ain't thebeat 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 toreassure the good woman.

"Indeed, I never learned the trade," shesaid. "I take to it naturally, I think; and Ihave 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 inNew York, I reckon, don't she "

Hildegarde laughed; but before shecould reply, Miss Bean went on to say:"Wal, you're a stranger to me, butyou've got a pooty good count'nance,an' ye kem with Farmer Hartley; that'sreference enough." She paused andreflected, while Hildegarde, putting thefinishing touches to the pretty hat,wondered what was coming. "I wasn'tcalc'latin' to hire help this summer,"continued the milliner; "but you're so

handy, and yer ma could give ye ideesfrom time to time. So if ye'd like a job,I d' 'no' but I'd like to hire ye."

The heiress of all the Grahams wantedto laugh at this naive proposal, butgood feeling and good manners alikeforbade. She thanked Miss Bean for herkind offer, and explained that she wasonly spending her school vacation atHartley Farm; that her time was fullyoccupied, etc., etc.

The little milliner looked sodisappointed that Hilda was seizedwith a royal impulse, and offered to "goover" the hats in the window while shewaited for Farmer Hartley, and freshen

them up a bit.

"Well, I wish't ye would!" said poorMiss Bean. "Fact is, I ain't done so wellas I c'd wish this season. Folks isdretful 'fraid o' buyin' new thingsnowadays."

Then followed a series of smallconfidences on the hair-cloth sofa,while Hilda's fingers flew about theforlorn hats and bonnets, changing aribbon here and a flower there, pattingand poking, and producing reallymarvellous results. Another tale ofpatient labor, suffering, privation. Aninvalid mother and an "innocent"brother for this frail little woman to

support. Doctors' bills and hard times,and stingy patrons who were "as 'fraidof a dollar-bill as if 'twas the small-pox." Hilda's eyes filled with tears ofsympathy, and one great drop fell onthe green satin hat, but was instantlycovered by the wreath of ivy which wasreplacing the staring cock's feathers.

"Wal, I declare to gracious!" exclaimedMiss Bean. "You'd never know that forthe same hat, now, would ye I thought'twas han'some before, but it's enoughsite han'somer now. I shouldn' wondera mite if Mis' Peasley bought that hatnow. She's been kind o' hankerin' arterit, the last two or three times she was inhere; but every time she tried it on,

she'd say No, 'twas too showy, sheguessed. Wal, I do say, you make a gretmistake not goin' into the trade, foryou're born to it, that's plain. When apusson's born to a thing, he's thrownaway, you may say, on anything else.What was you thinkin' "

But at this moment came a cheery callof "Huldy! Huldy!" and Hildegarde,cutting short the little woman's profusethanks and invitations to call again,bade her a cordial good-by, and ran outto the wagon, carrying her purchaseneatly done up in brown paper.

"Stiddy thar!" said the farmer, makingroom for her on the seat beside him.

"Look out for the ile-can, Huldy!Bought out the hull shop, hev ye Wal, Ish'll look for gret things the next fewdays. Huddup thar, Nancy!" And theywent jingling back along the streetagain.

As they passed the queer little shops,with their antiquated signboards, thefarmer had something to say abouteach one. How Omnium Grabb here,the grocer, missed his dried apples onemorning, and how he accused hischore-boy, who was his sister's son too,of having eaten them, "As if any livin'boy would pick out dried apples to eat,when he hed a hull store to choosefrom!" and how the very next day a

man coming to buy a pair of boots,Omnium Grabb hooked down a pairfrom the ceiling, where all the bootshung, and found them "chock full" ofdried apples, which the rats had beenbusily storing in them and theircompanion pairs.

How Enoch Pillsbury, the "'pottecary,like t' ha' killed" Old Man Grout,sending him writing fluid instead ofthe dark mixture for his "dyspepsy."

How Beulah Perkins, who lived overthe dry-goods store, had beenbedridden for nineteen years, till thehouse where she was living caught fire,"whereupon she jumped out o' bed an'

grabbed an umbrella an' opened it, an'ran down street in her red-flannelgownd, with the umbrella over herhead, shoutin', 'Somebody go save mybedstid! I ain't stirred from it fornineteen years, an' I ain't never goin' tostir from it agin. Somebody go save mybedstid!'"

"And was it saved " asked Hilda,laughing.

"No," said the farmer; "'t wa'n't wuthsavin', nohow. Besides, if't hed been,she'd ha' gone back to it an' stayedthere. Hosy Grout, who did her chores,kicked it into the fire; an' she was a wellwoman to the day of her death."

Now the houses straggled farther andfarther apart, and at last the village wasfairly left behind. Old Nancy prickedup her ears and quickened her pace alittle, looking right and left with glancesof pleasure as the familiar fields rangedthemselves along either side of theroad. Hilda too was glad to be in thefree country again, and she looked withdelight at the banks of fern, the stonewalls covered with white starry clematis,and the tangle of blackberry vineswhich made the pleasant road sofragrant and sweet. She was silent forsome time. At last she said, half timidly,"Farmer Hartley, you promised to tellme more about your father some day.

Don't you think this would be a goodtime I have been so much interested bywhat I have heard of him."

"That's curus, now," said FarmerHartley slowly, flicking the dust withthe long lash of his whip. "It's curus,Huldy, that you sh'd mention Fatherjest now, 'cause I happened to bethinkin' of him myself that veryminute. Old Father," he addedmeditatively, "wal, surely, he was acharacter, Father was. Folks abouthere," he said, turning suddenly toHilda and looking keenly at her, "thinkFather was ravin' crazy, or mighty nighit. But he warn't nothin' o' the sort. Hismind was as keen as a razor, an' as

straight-edged, 'xcept jest on one subject.On that he was, so to say, a little wal alittle tetched."

"And that was " queried Hilda.

"Why, ye see, Huldy, Father had been asea-farin' man all his days, an' he'd seenall manner o' countries an' all manner o'folks; and 'tain't to be wondered at efhe got a leetle bit confoosed sometimesbetween the things he'd seen and thethings he owned. Long'n short of itwas, Father thought he hed a kind o'treasure hid away somewhar, like thempirate fellers used to hev. Ef they didhev it!" he added slowly. "I nevermore'n half believed none o' them

yarns; but Father, he thought he hed it,an' no mistake. 'D'ye think I was fiveyears coastin' round Brazil for nothin' 'he says. 'There's di'monds in Brazil,' hesays, 'whole mines of 'em; an' there'ssome di'monds out o' Brazil too;' andthen he'd wink, and laugh out hearty,the way he used. He was alwayslaughin', Father was. An' when timeswas hard, he'd say to my mother,'Wealthy, we won't sell the di'monds yeta while. Not this time, Wealthy; butthey're thar, you know, my woman,they're thar!' And when my mother'dsay, 'Whar to goodness be they, Thomas' he'd only chuckle an' laugh an' shakehis head. Then thar was his story aboutthe ruby necklace. How we youngsters

used to open our eyes at that! Believedit too, every word of it."

"Oh! what was it " cried Hilda. "Tellme, and I will believe it too!"

"He used to tell of a Malay pirate," saidthe farmer, "that he fit and lickedsomewhere off in the South Seas, whenhe sailed the 'Lively Polly,' that was. Shewas a clipper, Father always said; an' herun aboard the black fellers, andsmashed their schooner, an' throwedtheir guns 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, fathersaid she was, an' they holdin' her forransom. Wal, Father found outsomehow whar she come from, Javy, orMochy, or some o' them places out o'the spice-box, an' he took her home, an'hunted up her parents an' guardeens,an' handed her over safe an' sound.They the guardeens was gret peoplewhar they lived, an' they wanted to giveFather a pot o' money; but he said hewarn't that kind. 'I'm a Yankee skipper!'says he. ''Twas as good as a meal o'vittles to me to smash that black feller!'says he. 'I don't want no pay for it. An'as for the lady, 'twas a pleasure toobleege her,' he says; 'an' I'd do it aginany day in the week, 'xcept Sunday, when

I don't fight, ez a rewl, when I kin helpit.' Then the princess, she tried to kisshis hand; but Father said he guessedthat warn't quite proper, an' theguardeens seemed to think so too. Sothen she took a ruby necklace off herneck (she was all done up in shawls,Father said, an' silk, an' gold chains, an'fur an' things, so 's 't he couldn' seenothin' but her eyes; but they was betterwuth seein' than any other woman'shull face that ever he see), and gave it tohim, an' made signs that he must keepthat, anyhow. Then she said somethin'to one o' the guardeens who spoke alittle Portuguese, Father understandin'it a little too, and he told Father shesaid these was the drops of her blood

he had saved, an' he must keep it toremember her. Jest like drops of blood,he said the rubies was, strung along ona gold chain. So he took it, an' said hewarn't likely to forget about it; an' thenhe made his bow, an' the guardeens saidhe was their father, an' their mother, an'their great-aunt, an' I d' 'no' what all, an'made him stay to supper, an' he didn'teat nothin' for a week arterward."

The farmer paused, and Hildegardedrew a long breath, "Oh!" she cried,"what a delightful story, FarmerHartley! 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 Isay. Father believed it, sure enough, andhe thought he hed that necklace, as sureas you think you hev that bunnit in yerhand. But 'twarn't never found, hide norhair of it."

"Might he not have sold it " Hildasuggested.

Farmer Hartley shook his head, "No,"he said, "he warn't that kind. Besides,he thought to the day of his death thathe hed it, sure enough. 'Thar's theprincess's necklace!' he'd say; 'don't yeforgit that, Wealthy! Along with thedi'monds, ye know.' And then he'd

laugh like he was fit to bust. Why, whenhe was act'lly dyin', so fur gone 't hecouldn' speak plain, he called me tohim, an' made signs he wanted to tellme somethin'. I stooped down clost, an'he whispered somethin'; but all I couldhear was 'di'monds,' and 'dig,' and thenin a minute 'twas all over. Poor oldFather! He'd been a good skipper, an' agood man all his days."

He was silent for a time, while Hildapondered over the story, which shecould not make up her mind todisbelieve altogether.

"Wal! wal! and here we are at the oldfarm agin!" said the farmer presently, as

old Nancy turned in at the yellow gate."Here I've been talkin' the everlastin'way home, ain't I You must herry andgit into the house, Huldy, for I d' 'no'how the machine's managed to runwithout ye all this time. I sha'n't take yeout agin ef I find anythin's wrong."

CHAPTER X.

A PARTY OF PLEASURE.

On a certain lovely afternoon the threehappiest people in the world (so theystyled themselves, and they ought toknow) were gathered together in a

certain spot, which was next to theprettiest spot in the world.

"You should have had the prettiest,Pink," said Hilda, "but we could notget your chair down into the glen, youknow. My poor, dear Pink, you havenever seen the glen, have you "

"No," answered Pink Chirk, cheerily."But I have heard so much about it, Ireally feel as if I had seen it, almost.And indeed I don't think it can bemuch lovelier than this place."

However that might be, the place theyhad chosen was certainly pretty enoughto satisfy any one. Not far from Mrs.

Chirk's cottage was a little pine-grove,easy of access, and with trees farenough apart to allow the wheeledchair to pass between them. And in thegrove, just in a little open space wheretwo or three trees had been cut away,was a great black rock, with fernsgrowing in all its cracks and crannies,and a tiny birch-tree waving like a greenand white plume on its top. And at thefoot of the rock oh, what a wonderfulthing! a slender thread of crystal watercame trickling out, as cold as ice and asclear as as itself; for nothing else couldbe so clear. Bubble had made a littlewooden trough to hold this fairystream, and it gurgled along the troughand tumbled over the end of it with as

much agitation and consequence as if itwere the Niagara River in person. Andunder the rock and beside the streamwas a bank of moss and ferns mostlovely to behold, most luxurious to situpon. On this bank sat QueenHildegarde, with Bubble at her feet asusual; and beside her, in her chair, satsweet Pink, looking more like a whiterose than ever, with her fresh whitedimity gown and her pretty hat. Hildawas very busy over a mysterious-looking basket, from whose depths shenow drew a large napkin, which shespread on the smooth green moss. Aplate of sandwiches came next, andsome cold chicken, and six of DameHartley's wonderful apple-turnovers.

"Now, Bubble," said Hilda, "where arethose birch-bark cups that you madefor us I have brought nothing to drinkout of."

"I'll fetch 'em, Miss Hildy," criedBubble, springing up with alacrity. "Iclean forgot 'em. Say, Pink, shall Iwould you " and he made sundryenigmatical signs to his sister.

"Yes, certainly," said Pink; "of course."

The boy ran off, and Hilda fell totwisting pine tassels together into akind of fantastic garland, while Pinklooked on with beaming eyes.

"Pink," said Hilda, presently, "how is itthat you speak so differently fromBubble and your mother, so muchbetter English, I mean Have you butno; you told me you never went toschool."

"It was Faith," said Pink, with a look oftender sadness, "Faith Hartley. Shewanted to be a teacher, and we studiedtogether always. Dear Faith! I wish youhad known her, Miss Graham."

"You promised not to call me MissGraham again, Pink," said Hildegarde,reproachfully. "It is absurd, and I won'thave it."

"Well, Hilda, then," said Pink, shyly. "Iwish you had known Faith, Hilda; youwould have loved her very much, Iknow."

"I am sure I should," said Hilda,warmly. "Tell me more about her. Whydid she want to teach when she was sohappy at home "

"She loved children very much," saidPink, "and liked to be with them. Shethought that if she studied hard, shecould teach them more than the districtschool teachers about here generally do,and in a better way. I think she wouldhave done a great deal of good," she

added, softly.

"Oh! why did she die " cried Hilda. "Shewas so much needed! It broke herfather's heart, and her mother's, andalmost yours, my Pink. Why was it rightfor her to die "

"It was right, dear," said Pink, gently;"that is all we can know. 'Why' isn'tanswered in this world. My granny usedto say,

"'Never lie! Never pry! Never ask thereason why!'"

Hilda shook her head, and was aboutto reply earnestly; but at this moment

Bubble came bounding back withsomething in his arms, somethingcovered with an old shawl; somethingalive, which did not like the shawl, andwhich struggled, and made plaintivelittle noises, which the boy tried vainlyto repress.

"Say, Miss Hildy," he cried, eagerly, "doye 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 Lether go! For shame, you naughty boy!"

"Puppies, he means," whispered Pink.

"'Cause if ye do," cried the breathlessBubble, still struggling with hisshrouded captive, "I've got one here asWal, thar! go 'long, ye pesky critter, if yewill!" for the poor puppy had made onefrantic effort, and leaped from his armsto the ground, where it rolled over andover, a red and green plaid mass, with awhite tail sticking out of one end. Onbeing unrolled, it proved to be a littlesnow-white, curly creature, with longears and large, liquid eyes, whosepathetic glance went straight to Hilda'sheart.

"Oh, the little darling!" she cried, takinghim up in her arms; "the pretty, prettycreature! Is he really for me, BubbleThank you very much. I shall love himdearly, I know."

"I'm glad ye like him," said Bubble,looking highly gratified. "Hosy Groutgiv him an' another one to me yes'day,over 't the village. He was goin' todrownd 'em, an' I wouldn' let him, an'he said I might hev 'em ef I wanted'em. I knew Pink would like to hev one,an' I thought mebbe you liked critters,an' so "

"Good Bubble!" said Hilda, strokingthe little dog's curly head. "And what

shall I call him, Pink Let us each thinkof a name, and then choose the best."

There was a pause, and then Bubblesaid, "Call him Scott, after the boldBuckle-oh!"

"Or Will, for 'the wily Belted Will,'" saidPink, who was as inveterate a ballad-lover as her brother.

"I think Jock is a good name," saidHildegarde, "Jock o' Hazeldean, youknow. I think I will call him Jock." Theothers assented, and the puppy wassolemnly informed of the fact, andreceived a chicken-bone in honor ofthe occasion. Then the three friends ate

their dinner, and very merry they wereover it. Hildegarde crowned Pink withthe pine-tassel wreath, and declared thatshe looked like a priestess of Diana.

"No, she don't," said Bubble, lookingup from his cold chicken; "she lookslike Lars Porsena of Clusium sot in hisivory cheer, on'y she ain't f'erce enough.Hold up yer head, Pinky, an' look realsavage, an' I'll do Horatius at theBridge."

Pink did her best to look savage, andZerubbabel stood up and delivered"Horatius" with much energy andappropriate action, to the greatamusement of his audience. A stout

stick, cut from a neighboring thicket,served for the "good Roman steel;" andwith this he cut and slashed andstabbed with furious energy, recitingthe lines meanwhile with breathlessferocity. He slew the "great Lord ofLuna," and on the imaginary body he

"Right firmly pressed his heel, Andthrice and four times tugged amain, Erehe wrenched out the steel."

But when he cried

"What noble Lucumo comes next Totaste our Roman cheer "

the puppy, who had been watching the

scene with kindling eyes, and ears andtail of eager inquiry, could bear it nolonger, but flung himself valiantly intothe breach, and barked defiance,dancing about in front of Horatius andsnapping furiously at his legs. Alas,poor puppy! He was hailed as "Sextus,"and bade "welcome" by the boldRoman, who forthwith charged uponhim, and drove him round and roundthe grove till he sought safety andprotection in the lap of Lars Porsenaherself. Then the bridge came down,and Horatius, climbing nimbly to thetop of the rock, apostrophized hisFather Tiber, sheathed his good swordby his side (i.e., rammed his stick intoand through his breeches pocket), and

with his jacket on his back plungedheadlong in the tide, and swamvaliantly across the pine-strewn surfaceof the little glade.

Bubble's performance was muchapplauded by the two girls, who, in thecharacters of Lars Porsena andMamilius, "Prince of the Latian name,"had surveyed the whole with dignifiedamazement. And when the boy,exhausted with his heroic exertions,threw himself down on the pine-needles and begged "Miss Hildy" tosing to them, she readily consented, andsang "Jock o' Hazeldean" and "Comeo'er the stream, Charlie!" so sweetly thatthe little fat birds sat still on the

branches to listen. A faint glow stoleinto Pink's wan cheek, and her blueeyes sparkled with pleasure; whileBubble bobbed his head, and testifiedhis delight by drumming with his heelson the ground and begging for more."A ballid now, Miss Hildy, please," hecried.

"Well," said Hildegarde, nothing loth,"what shall it be "

"One with some fightin' in it," repliedBubble, promptly.

So Hildegarde began:

"Down Deeside cam Inverey, Whistling

and playing; He's lighted at Brackleygates At the day's dawing."

And went on to tell of the murder of"bonnie Brackley" and of the treacheryof his young wife:

"There's grief in the kitchen, Andmirth in the ha'; But the Baron o'Brackley Is dead and awa'."

So the ballad ended, leaving Bubble fullof sanguinary desires anent thedescendants of the false Inverey. "I II'd like jest to git holt o' some o' themfellers!" he exclaimed. "They wouldn'tgo slaughterin' round no gret amountwhen I'd finished with em', I tell ye!"

And he flourished his stick, and lookedso fierce that the puppy yelpedpiteously, expecting another onslaught.

"And now, Pink," said Hilda, "we havejust time for a story before we gohome. Bubble has told me about yourstories, and I want very much to hearone."

"Oh, Hilda, they are not worth tellingtwice!" protested Pink; "I just makethem for Bubble when he takes me outon Sunday. It's all I can do for the dearlad."

"Don't you mind her, Miss Hildy," saidBubble; "they're fustrate stories, an' she

tells 'em jest like p 'rithmetic. Go ahead,Pink! Tell the one about the princesswhat looked in the glass all the time."

So Pink, in her low, sweet voice, toldthe story of

THE VAIN PRINCESS.

Once upon a time there lived a princesswho was so beautiful that it was awonder to look at her. But she was alsovery vain; and her beauty was of no useor pleasure to anybody, for she sat andlooked in her mirror all day long, andnever thought of doing anything else.

The mirror was framed in beaten gold,

but the gold was not so bright as hershining locks; and all about its rim greatsapphires were set, but they were dimand gray, compared with the blue ofher lovely eyes. So there she sat all dayin a velvet chair, clad in a satin gownwith fringes of silver and pearl; andnobody in the world was one bit thebetter for her or her beauty.

Now, one day the princess looked atherself so long and so earnestly thatshe fell fast asleep in her velvet chair,with the golden mirror in her lap.While she slept, a gust of wind blewthe casement window open, and a rosethat was growing on the wall outsidepeeped in. It was a poor little feeble

white rose, which had climbed up thewall in a straggling fashion, and had noparticular strength or beauty orsweetness. Every one who saw it fromthe outside said, "What a wretched littleplant! Why is it not cut down " and therose trembled when it heard this, for itwas as fond of life as if it werebeautiful, and it still hoped for betterdays. Inside, no one thought about it atall; for the beautiful princess never lefther chair to open the window.

Now, when the rose saw the princess itwas greatly delighted, for it had oftenheard of her marvellous beauty. It creptnearer and nearer, and gazed at thegolden wonder of her hair, her ivory

skin under which the blushes came andwent as she slept, and her smiling lips."Ah!" sighed the rose, "if I had only atinge of that lovely red, I should befiner than all the other roses." And as itgazed, the thought came into its mind:"Why should I not steal a little of thiswondrous beauty Here it is of no useto anybody. If I had it, I would delightevery one who passed by with myfreshness and sweetness, and peoplewould be the better for seeing a thingso lovely."

So the rose crept to the princess's feet,and climbed up over her satin gown,and twined about her neck and arms,and about her lovely golden head. And

it stole the blush from her cheek, andthe crimson from her lips, and the goldfrom her hair. And the princess grewpale and paler; but the rose blushed redand redder, and its golden heart madethe room bright, and its sweetness filledthe air. It grew and grew, and now newbuds and leaves and blossomsappeared; and when at last it left thevelvet chair and climbed out of thecasement again, it was a glorious plant,such as had never before been seen. Allthe passers-by stopped to look at it andadmire it. Little children reached up topluck the glowing blossoms, and sickand weary people gained strength andcourage from breathing their deliciousperfume. The world was better and

happier for the rose, and the rose knewit, and was glad.

But when the princess awoke, she tookup her golden mirror again, andlooking in it, saw a pale and wrinkledand gray-haired woman looking at her.Then she shrieked, and flung themirror on the ground, and rushed outof her palace into the wide world. Andwherever she went she cried, "I am thebeautiful princess! Look at me and seemy beauty; for I will show it to younow!" But nobody looked at her, forshe was withered and ugly; and nobodycared for her, because she was selfishand vain. So she made no moredifference in the world than she had

made before. But the rose isblossoming still, and fills the air with itssweetness.

* * * * *

"My Pink," said Hildegarde, tenderly, asshe walked beside her friend's chair ontheir homeward way, "you are shut uplike the princess; but instead of therose stealing your sweetness, you havestolen the sweetness of all the roses,and taken it into your prison with you."

"I 'shut up,' Hilda " cried Pink, openingwide eyes of wonder and reproach."Do you call this being shut up Seewhat I have had to-day! Enough

pleasure to think about for a year. Andeven without it, even before you came,Hilda, why, I am the happiest girl in theworld, and I ought to be."

Hildegarde stooped and kissed the paleforehead. "Yes, dear, I think you are,"she said; "but I should like you to haveall the pleasant and bright and lovelythings in the world, my Pink."

"Well, I have the best of them," saidPink Chirk, smiling brightly, "home andlove, and friends and flowers. And asfor the rest, why, dear Hilda, what is theuse in thinking about things one hasnot "

After this, which was part of Pink'slittle code of philosophy, she fell a-musing happily, while Hilda walkedbeside her in a kind of silent rage,almost hating herself for the fulness ofvigor, the superabundant health andbuoyancy, which she felt in every limb.She looked sidelong at the transparentcheek, the wasted frame, the unearthlyradiance of the blue eyes. This girl wasjust her own age, and had never walked!It could not, it must not, be so always.Thoughts thronged into her mind ofthe great New York physicians and thewonders they had wrought. Might itnot be possible Could not somethingbe done The blood coursed morequickly through her veins, and she laid

her hand on that of the crippled girlwith a sudden impulse of protectionand tenderness.

Pink Chirk looked up with awondering smile. "Why, Hildegarde,"she said, "you look like the Britishwarrior queen you told me aboutyesterday. I was just thinking what acomfort it is to live now, instead of inthose dreadful murdering times that theballads tell of."

"I druther ha' lived then!" cried Bubble,from behind the chair. "If I hed, I'd ha'got hold o' that Inverey feller."

CHAPTER XI.

THE WARRIOR QUEEN.

Happily, happily, the days and weeksslipped by at Hartley Farm; and nowSeptember was half gone, and in twoweeks more Hilda's parents wouldreturn. The letter had just arrived whichfixed the date of their homecomingand Hildegarde had carried it upstairsto feast on it in her own room. She satby the window in the little whiterocking-chair, and read the words overand over again. In two weeks really intwo little weeks she should see hermother 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 little blessedface in your bowl. I should think thatmight have stopped your ramping, ifanything could. Or have you beenwaving your paws for joy ever since Imay have been unjust to you,Dragons."

The blue dragons, as usual, refused tocommit themselves; and, as usual, thegilt cherubs round the looking-glasswere shocked at their rudeness, andtried to atone for it by smiling as hard

as they possibly could.

"Such dear, sympathetic cherubs!" saidthe happy girl, bending forward to kissone of them as she was brushing herhair. "You do not ramp and glowerwhen one tells you that one's mother iscoming home. I know you are glad, youdear old things!"

And then, suddenly, even while she waslaughing at the cherubs, a thoughtstruck her which sent a pang throughher heart. The cherubs would stillsmile, just the same, when she wasgone! Ah! it was not all delight, thisgreat news. There was sorrow mingledwith the rapture. Her heart was with her

parents, of course. The mere thoughtof seeing her mother's face, of hearingher father's voice, sent the blooddancing through her veins. And yet shemust leave the farm; she must leaveNurse Lucy and the farmer, and theywould miss her. They loved her; ah!how could they help it, when she lovedthem so much And the pain came againat her heart as she recalled the sad smilewith which the farmer had handed herthis letter. "Good news for you, Huldy,"he said, "but bad for the rest of us, Ireckon!" Had he had word also, or didhe just know that this was about thetime they had meant to return Oh, butshe would come out so often to thefarm! Papa and mamma would be

willing, would wish her to come; andshe could not live long at a time intown, without refreshing herself with abreath of real air, country air. She mighthave wilted along somehow for sixteenyears; but she had never been really alivehad she till this summer.

Pink and Bubble too! they would missher almost as much. But that did nottrouble her, for she had a plan in herhead for Pink and Bubble, a great plan,which was to be whispered to Papaalmost the very moment she saw him,not quite the very moment, but the nextthing to it. The plan would pleaseNurse Lucy and the farmer too, wouldplease them almost as much as it

delighted her to think about it.

Happy thought! She would go downnow and tell the farmer about it. NurseLucy was lying down with a badheadache, she knew; but the farmer wasstill in the kitchen. She heard himmoving about now, though he had saidhe was going off to the orchard. Shewould steal in softly and startle him,and then

Full of happy and loving thoughts,Hildegarde slipped quietly down thestairs and across the hall, and peeped inat the kitchen-door to see what thefarmer was doing. He was at the fartherend of the room, with his back turned

to her, stooping down over his desk.What was he doing What a singularattitude he was in! Then, all in amoment, Hilda's heart seemed to stopbeating, and her breath came thick andshort; for she saw that this man beforeher was not the farmer. The farmer hadnot long elf-locks of black hairstraggling over his coat-collar; he wasnot round-shouldered or bow-legged;above all, he would not be picking thelock of his own desk, for this was whatthe man before her was doing. Silent asher own shadow, Hildegarde slippedback into the hall and stood still amoment, collecting her thoughts. Whatshould she do Call Dame Hartley The"poor dear" was suffering much, and

why should she be disturbed Run tofind the farmer She might have to runall over the farm! No; she would attendto this herself. She was not in the leastafraid. She knew pretty well what uglyface would look up at her when shespoke; for she felt sure that theslouching, ungainly figure was that ofSimon Hartley. Her heart burned withindignation against the graceless,thankless churl who could rob the manon whose charity he had been living fortwo years. She made a step forward,with words of righteous wrath on herlips; then paused, as a new thoughtstruck her. This man was an absoluteruffian; and though she believed him tobe an absolute coward also, still he

must know that she and Dame Hartleywere alone in the house. He must knowalso that the farmer was at somedistance, else he would not haveventured to do this. What should shedo she asked herself again. She lookedround her, and her eyes fell upon theold horse-pistol which rested on acouple of hooks over the door. Thefarmer had taken it down only a day ortwo before, to show it to her and tellher its story. It was not loaded, butSimon did not know that. She steppedlightly up on a chair, and in a momenthad taken the pistol down. It was aformidable-looking weapon, andHildegarde surveyed it with muchsatisfaction as she turned once more to

enter the kitchen. Unloaded as it was, itgave her a feeling of entire confidence;and her voice was quiet and steady asshe said:

"Simon Hartley, what are you doing toyour uncle's desk "

The man started violently and turnedround, his hands full of papers, whichhe had taken from one of the drawers.He changed color when he saw "thecity gal," as he invariably termed Hilda,and he answered sullenly, "Gitt'nsometh'n for Uncle."

"That is not true," said Hildegarde,quietly, "I have heard your uncle

expressly forbid you to go near thatdesk. Put those papers back!"

The man hesitated, his little, ferret eyesshifting uneasily from her to the deskand back again. "I guess I ain't goin' totake orders from no gal!" he muttered,huskily.

"Put those papers back!" repeatedHildegarde sternly, with a sudden lightin her gray eyes which made the rascalstep backward and thrust the papershurriedly into the drawer. After whichhe began to bluster, as is the manner ofcowards. "Pooty thing, city gals comin'hectorin' round with their airs an' "

"Shut the drawer!" said Hildegarde,quietly.

But Simon's sluggish blood waswarmed by his little bluster, and hetook courage as he reflected that thiswas only a slight girl, and that no oneelse was in the house except "OldMarm," and that many broad meadowsintervened between him and thefarmer's stout arm. He would frightenher a bit, and get the money after all.

"We'll see about that!" he said, taking astep towards Hilda, with an evil look inhis red eyes. "I'll settle a little accountwith you fust, my fine lady. I'll teachyou to come spyin' round on me this

way. Ye ain't give me a civil word senceye come here, an' I'll pay ye "

Here Simon stopped suddenly; forwithout a word Hildegarde had raisedthe pistol (which he had not seenbefore, as her hand was behind her),and levelled it full at his head, keepingher eyes steadily fixed on him. With ahowl of terror the wretch staggeredback, putting up his hands to ward offthe expected shot.

"Don't shoot!" he gasped, while hiscolor changed to a livid green. "I Ididn't mean nothin', I swar I didn't,Miss Graham. I was only foolin'!" andhe tried to smile a sickly smile; but his

eyes fell before the stern glance of thegray eyes fixed so unwaveringly on him.

"Go to your room!" said Hilda, briefly.He hesitated. The lock clicked, and thegirl took deliberate aim.

"I'm goin'!" shrieked the rascal, andbegan backing towards the door, whileHilda followed step by step, stillcovering him with her deadly(!)weapon. They crossed the kitchen andthe back hall in this way, and Simonstumbled against the narrow stairswhich led to his garret room.

"I dassn't turn round to g' up!" hewhined; "ye'll shoot me in the back."

No answer; but the lock clicked again,more ominously than before. Heturned and fled up the stairs, mutteringcurses under his breath. Hildegardeclosed the door at the foot of the stairs,which generally 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, andlaughed!

Yes, laughed! The absurdity of thewhole episode, the ruffian quaking andfleeing before the empty pistol, herown martial fierceness and sanguinarydetermination, struck her withirresistible force, and peal after peal ofsilvery laughter rang through the

kitchen. Perhaps it was partly hysterical,for her nerves were unconsciouslystrung to a high pitch; but she was stilllaughing, and still holding the terriblepistol in her hand, when Dame Hartleyentered 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. Andwhy! good gracious, child! what are youdoing with that pistol "

Hildegarde saw that there was nothingfor it but to tell the simple truth, whichshe did in as few words as possible,trying to make light of the whole

episode. But Dame Hartley was not tobe deceived, and saw at once the fullsignificance of what had happened.She was deeply moved. "My dear, bravechild," she said, kissing Hilda warmly,"to think of your facing that greatvillain and driving him away! Thecourage of you! Though to be sure, anyone could see it in your eyes, and yourfather a soldier so many of his daystoo."

"Oh! it was not I who frightened him,"said honest Hilda, "it was the oldpistol." But Nurse Lucy only shook herhead and kissed her again. The thoughtof Simon's ingratitude and treacherynext 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 that fellowto the house. I mistrusted him from thefirst look at his sulky face. A man whocan't look you in the eyes, well, there!that's my opinion of him!"

"Why did the farmer bring him here "asked Hilda. "I have often wondered."

"Why, 'tis a long story, my dear," saidNurse Lucy, smoothing her apron andpreparing for a comfortable chat ("For,"she said, "Simon will not dare to stirfrom his room, even if he could getout, which he can't."). "Of all his

brothers, my husband loved his brotherSimon best. He was a handsome, cleverfellow, Simon was. Don't youremember, my dear, Farmer speaking ofhim one day when you first came here,and telling how he wanted to be agentleman; and I turned the talk whenyou asked what became of him " Hildanodded assent "Well," Nurse Lucycontinued, "that was because no goodcame of him, and I knew it vexedFarmer to think on it, let alone Simon'sson being there. It was all through hiswanting to be a gentleman that Simongot into bad ways. Making friends withpeople who had money, he got tothinking he must have it, or must makebelieve he had it; so he spent all he had,

and then oh, dear! he forged his father'sname, and the farm had to bemortgaged to get him out of prison;and then he took to drinking, and wentfrom bad to worse, and finally died inmisery and wretchedness. Dear, dear! italmost broke Jacob's heart, that it did.He had tried, if ever man tried, to savehis brother; but 'twas of no use. Itseemed as if he was bound to ruinhimself, and nothing could stop him.When he died, his wife (he married her,thinking she had money, and it turnedout she hadn't a penny) took the childand went back to her own people, andwe heard nothing more till about twoyears ago, when this boy came to Jacobwith a letter from his mother's folks.

She was dead, and they said theycouldn't do for him any longer, and hedidn't seem inclined to do for himself.Well, that is the story, Hilda dear. Hehas been here ever since, and he hasbeen no comfort, no pleasure to us, Imust say; but we have tried to do ourduty by him, and I hoped he might feelin his heart some gratitude to his uncle,though he showed none in his actions.And now to think of it! to think of it!How shall I tell my poor man "

"What was his mother like " askedHildegarde, trying to turn for themoment the current of painfulthought.

Nurse Lucy gave a little laugh, evenwhile wiping the tears from her eyes."Poor Eliza!" she said. "She was a goodwoman, but well, there! she had nofaculty, as you may say. And homely! younever saw such a homely woman,Hilda; for I don't believe there could betwo in the world. I never think of Elizawithout remembering what Jacob saidafter he saw her for the first time. He'dbeen over to see Simon; and when hecame back he walked into the kitchenand sat down, never saying a word, butjust shaking his head over and overagain. 'What's the matter, Jacob ' I said.'Matter ' said he. 'Matter enough, MarmLucy' (he's always called me MarmLucy, my dear, since the very day we

were married, though I wasn't verymuch older than you then). 'Simon'smarried,' he said, 'and I've seen hiswife.' Of course I was surprised, and Iwanted to know all about it. 'What sortof a girl is she ' I asked. 'Is she prettyWhat color is her hair ' But Jacob putup his hand and stopped me. 'Thar!' hesays, 'don't ask no questions, and I'll tellye. Fust place, she ain't no gal, nomore'n yer Aunt Saleny is!' (that was amaiden aunt of mine, dear, and wellover forty at that time.) 'And what doesshe look like ' 'Wal! D'ye ever see an oldcedar fence-rail, one that had beenchumped out with a blunt axe, and hadlaid out in the sun and the wind andthe snow and the rain till 'twas warped

this way, and shrunk that way, andtwisted every way Wal! Simon's wifelooks as if she had swallowed one o'them fence-rails, and shrunk to it! Dear,dear! how I laughed. And 'twas true, mydear! It was just the way she did look.Poor soul! she led a sad life; for whenSimon found he'd made a mistakeabout the money, there was no wordtoo bad for him to fling at her."

At this moment Farmer Hartley's stepwas heard in the porch, and NurseLucy rose hurriedly. "Don't sayanything to him, Hilda dear," shewhispered, "anything about Simon, Imean. I'll tell him to-morrow; but Idon't want to trouble him to-night.

This is our Faith's birthday, seventeenyear old she'd have been to-day; and it'sbeen a right hard day for Jacob! I'll tellhim about it in the morning."

Alas! when morning came it was toolate. The kitchen door was swingingidly open; the desk was broken openand rifled; and Simon Hartley wasgone, and with him the savings of tenyears' patient labor.

CHAPTER XII.

THE OLD MILL.

It was a sad group that sat in thepleasant kitchen that bright Septembermorning. The good farmer sat beforehis empty desk, seeming half stupefiedby the blow which had fallen sosuddenly upon him, while his wifehung about him, reproaching herselfbitterly for not having put him on hisguard the night before. Hildegardemoved restlessly about the kitchen,setting things to rights, as she thought,though in reality she hardly knew whatshe was doing, and had alreadycarefully deposited the teapot in thecoal-hod, and laid the broom on thetop shelf of the dresser. Her heart wasfull of wrath and sorrow, fierce angeragainst the miserable wretch who had

robbed his benefactor; sympathy forher kind friends, brought thus suddenlyfrom comfort to distress. For she knewnow that the money which Simon hadstolen had been drawn from the bankonly two days before to pay off themortgage 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 orlay by. I shouldn't ha' minded, though'twould ha' hurt jest the same to hevSimon's son take it, my brother Simon'sson, as I allus stood by. But it's hard tolet the farm go. I tell ye, Marm Lucy, it'sterrible hard!" and he bowed his headupon his hands in a dejection which

made his wife weep anew and wringher hands.

"But they will not take the farm fromyou, Farmer Hartley!" cried Hilda,aghast. "They cannot do that, can theyWhy, it was your father's, and yourgrandfather's before him."

"And his father's afore him!" said thefarmer, looking up with a sad smile onhis kindly face. "But that don't make nodifference, ye see, Hildy. Lawyer Clinchis a hard man, a terrible hard man; andhe's always wanted this farm. It's thebest 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 thefarmer, sadly. "He'd kep' watch over itever sence Simon began to get intotrouble, reckon he knew pooty wellhow things would come out; an'bimeby Jason Doble, as held themortgage, he up an' died, an' thenLawyer Clinch stepped in an' told the'xecutors how Jason owed him a bigdebt, but he didn't want to do nothin'onfriendly, so he'd take the mortgageon Hartley's Glen and call it square. Th'executors was kind o' fool people, bothon 'em I d'no' what possessed JasonDoble to choose them for 'xecutors,

when he might ha' hed the pick o' theState lunatic asylum an' got some foolsas knew something; but so 'twas, an' Is'pose so 'twas meant to be. They giv' itto him, an' thanked him for takin' it;and he's waited an' waited, hopin' toketch me in a tight place, an' now he'sdone it. An' that's about all there is toit!" added Farmer Hartley, rising andpushing back his massive gray hair."An' I sha'n't mend it by sittin' an'mowlin' over it. Thar's all Simon's workto be done, an' my own too. Huldy, mygal!" he held out his honest brownhand to Hildegarde, who clasped itaffectionately in both of hers, "ye'll stayby Marm Lucy and chirk her up a bit.'T'll be a hard day for her, an' she hasn't

no gal of her own now to do for her.But ye've grown to be almost adaughter to us, Huldy. God bless ye,child!"

His voice faltered as he laid his otherhand for a moment on the girl's fairhead; then, turning hastily away, hetook up his battered straw hat and wentslowly out of the house, an older man,it might have been by ten years, than hehad been the night before.

Right daughterly did Hilda showherself that day, and Faith herselfcould hardly have been more tenderand helpful. Feeling intuitively thatwork was the best balm for a sore heart,

she begged for Nurse Lucy's help andadvice in one and another item ofhousehold routine. Then she bethoughther of the churning, and felt that if thisthing was to befall, it could not havebetter befallen than on a Tuesday, whenthe great blue churn stood ready in thedairy, and the cream lay thick andyellow in the shining pans.

"Well, that's a fact!" sighed Nurse Lucy."If I hadn't forgotten my butter in allthis trouble! And it must be made,sorrow or smiles, as the old saying is.Come with me, Hilda dear, if you will.Your face is the only bright thing I cansee this sad day."

So they went together into the cooldairy, where the light came in dimlythrough the screen of clematis thatcovered the window; Hilda bared herround white arms, and Nurse Lucypinned back her calico sleeves from apair that were still shapely, thoughbrown, and each took a skimmer andset earnestly to work. The process ofskimming cream is in itself a soothing,not to say an absorbing one. To pushthe thick, yellow ripples, pilingthemselves upon the skimmer, acrossthe pan; to see it drop, like melted ivory,into the cream-bowl; to pursue floatingcream islands round and round the pale

and mimic sea, who can do this long,and not be comforted in some smalldegree, even in the midst of heavysorrow Also there is joy and a never-failing sense of achievement when thebutter first splashes in the churn. SoNurse Lucy took heart, and churnedand pressed and moulded her butter;and though some tears fell into it, itwas none the worse for that.

But as she stamped each ball with thefamiliar stamp, showing an impossiblecow with four lame legs "How manymore times," said the good woman,"shall I use this stamp; and what kindof butter will they make who comeafter me " and her tears flowed again.

"Lawyer Clinch keeps a hired girl, and Inever saw real good butter made by ahired girl. They haven't the feeling for it;and there's feeling in butter-making asmuch as in anything else."

But here Hilda interposed, and gentlyhinted that there ought now to be"feeling" about getting the farmer'sdinner. "We must have the things helikes best," she said; "for it will be hardenough to make him eat anything. I willmake that apple-pudding that he likesso much; and there is the fowl for thepie, you know, Nurse Lucy."

The little maid was away on a vacation,so there was plenty of work to be done.

Dinner-time came and went; and it wasnot till she had seen Dame Hartley safeestablished on her bed (for tears andtrouble had brought on a sickheadache), and tucked her up under thered quilt, with a bottle of hot water ather and a bowl of cracked ice by herside, it was not till she had done this,and sung one or two of the soothingsongs that the good woman loved, thatHilda had a moment to herself. She ranout to say a parting word to the farmer,who was just starting for the village inthe forlorn hope, which in his heart heknew to be vain, of getting anextension of time from Lawyer Clinchwhile search was being made for thewretched Simon.

When old Nancy had trotted awaydown the lane, Hilda went back and satdown in the porch, very tired and sad atheart. It seemed so hard, so hard thatshe could do nothing to save herfriends from the threatening ruin. Shethought of her father, with amomentary flash of hope that madeher spring from her seat with a halfarticulate cry of joy; but the hope fadedas she remembered that he hadprobably just started for the YosemiteValley, and that there was no knowingwhen or where a despatch would reachhim. She sighed, and sank back on thebench with a hopeless feeling. Presentlyshe bethought her of her little dog,

whom she had not seen all day. Jockhad grown very dear to her heart, andwas usually her inseparable companion,except when she was busy withhousehold tasks, to which he had anextreme aversion. A mistress, in Jock'sopinion, was a person who fed one,and took one to walk, and patted one,and who was in return to be loveddesperately, and obeyed in reason. Butsweeping, and knocking broomsagainst one's legs, and paying noattention to one's invitations to play orgo for a walk, were manifestderelictions from a mistress's duty;accordingly, when Hilda was occupiedin the house, Jock always sat in the backporch, with his back turned to the

kitchen door, and his tail cocked veryhigh, while one ear listened eagerly forthe sound of Hilda's footsteps, and theother was thrown negligently forward,to convey the impression that he didnot really care, but only waited tooblige her. And the moment the dooropened, and she appeared with her haton, oh, the rapture! the shrieks andsqueaks and leaps of joy, the wrigglingsof body and frantic waggings of tailthat ensued!

So this morning, what with all thetrouble, and with her knowledge of hisviews, Hildegarde had not thought towonder where Jock was. But now itstruck her that she had exchanged no

greeting with him since last night; thatshe had heard no little impatient barks,no flapping of tail against the door byway of reminder. Where could the littlefellow be She walked round the house,calling and whistling softly. She visitedthe barn and the cow-shed and all thehaunts where her favorite was wont tolinger; but no Jock was to be seen."Perhaps he has gone over to see Will,"she thought, with a feeling of relief.Indeed, this was very possible, as thetwo dogs were very brotherly, andfrequently exchanged visits, sometimesacting as letter-carriers for their twomistresses, Pink and Hilda. If Jock wasat Pink's house, he would be well caredfor, and Bubble would but here

Hildegarde started, as a new perplexityarose. Where was Bubble They hadactually forgotten the boy in theconfusion and trouble of the day. Hehad not certainly come to the house, ashe invariably did; and the farmer hadnot spoken of him when he came in atnoon. Perhaps Pink was ill, Hildathought, with fresh alarm. If it shouldbe so, Bubble could not leave her, forMrs. Chirk was nursing a sick womantwo or three miles away, and there wereno other neighbors nearer than thefarm. "Oh, my Pink!" cried Hilda; "andI cannot go to you at once, for NurseLucy must not be left alone in hertrouble. I must wait, wait patiently tillFarmer Hartley comes back."

Patiently she tried to wait. She stole upto her room, and taking up one of herbest-beloved books, "The Householdof Sir Thomas More," lost herself for awhile in the noble sorrows of MargaretRoper. But even this could not hold herlong in her restless frame of mind, soshe went downstairs again, and out intothe soft, golden September air, and fellto pacing up and down the gravel walkbefore the house like a slender, white-robed sentinel. Presently there was arustling in the bushes, then a hasty,joyful bark, and a little dog sprangforward and greeted Hildegarde withevery demonstration of affection."Jock! my own dear little Jock!" she

cried, stooping down to caress herfavorite. But as she did so she saw thatit was not Jock, but Will, Pink's dog,which was bounding and leaping abouther. Much puzzled, she neverthelesspatted the little fellow and shook pawswith him, and told him she was glad tosee him. "But where is your brother "she cried. "Oh! Willy dog, where isJock, and where is Bubble Bubble, Will!speak!" Will "spoke" as well as hecould, giving a short bark at eachrepetition of the well-known name.Then he jumped up on Hilda, andthrew back his head with a peculiaraction which at once attracted herattention. She took him up in her arms,and lo! there was a piece of paper,

folded and pinned securely to his collar.Hastily setting the dog down, sheopened the note and read as follows:

MISS HILDY,

Simon Hartley he come here early thismornin and he says to me I was digginpotaters for dinner and he come andleaned on the fence and says he I'vefixed your city gal up fine he says and Isays what yer mean I mean what I sayshe says I've fixed her up fine. She thinksa heap of that dorg I know that ain'tspelled right but it's the way he said itdon't she says he I reckon says I Wellsays he you tell her to look for him inthe pit of the old mill says he. And

then he larf LAUGHED I was boundI'd get it Miss Hildy I don't see whythey spell a thing g and say it f andwent away. And I run after him to makehim tell me what he d been up to andclimbin over the wall I ketched my footon a stone and the stone come downon my foot and me with it and I didn'tknow anything till Simon had gone andmy foot swoll up so s I couldn't walkand I wouldnt a minded its hurtin MissHildy but it s like there wornt no bonesin it Pink says I sprante it bad and Istarted to go over to the Farm on allfours to tell ye but I didn't knowanythin g agin and Pink made me comeback. We couldnt nether on us get holdof Will but now we got him I hope he

l go straite, Miss Hildy Pink wanted towrite this for me but I druther writemyself you aint punk tuated it she says.She can punk tuate it herself better n Ican I an ti cip ate I says. From

ZERUBBABEL CHIRK

P.S. I wisht I could get him out for yeMiss Hildy.

If Bubble's letter was funny, Hilda hadno heart to see the fun. Her tearsflowed fast as she realized the fate ofher pretty little pet and playfellow. Thevindictive wretch, too cowardly to faceher again, had taken his revenge uponthe harmless little dog. All day long

poor Jock had been in that fearfulplace! He was still only a puppy, andshe knew he could not possibly get outif he had really been thrown into thepit of the great wheel. But and she gavea cry of pain as the thought struck herperhaps it was only his lifeless bodythat was lying there. Perhaps the ruffianhad killed him, and thrown him downthere afterwards. She started up andpaced the walk hurriedly, trying tothink what she had best do. Her firstimpulse was to fly at once to the glen;but that was impossible, as she mustnot, she felt, leave Dame Hartley. Noone was near: they were quite alone.Again she said, "I must wait; I must waittill Farmer Hartley comes home." But

the waiting was harder now than it hadbeen before. She could do nothing butpace up and down, up and down, like acaged panther, stopping every fewminutes to throw back her head andlisten for the longed-for sound, thesound of approaching wheels.

Softly the shadows fell as the sun wentdown. The purple twilight deepened,and the stars lighted their silver lamps,while all the soft night noises began tomake themselves heard as the voices ofday died away. But Hilda had ears foronly one sound. At length, out of thesilence (or was it out of her own fancy) she seemed to hear a faint, clickingnoise. She listened intently: yes, there it

was again. There was no mistaking theclick of old Nancy's hoofs, and with itwas a dim suggestion of a rattle, ajingle. Yes, beyond a doubt, the farmerwas coming. Hildegarde flew into thehouse, and met Dame Hartley justcoming down the stairs. "The farmer iscoming," she said, hastily; "he is almosthere. I am going to find Jock. I shall beback " and she was gone before theastonished Dame could ask her aquestion.

Through the kitchen and out of theback porch sped the girl, only stoppingto catch up a small lantern which hungon a nail, and to put some matches inher pocket. Little Will followed her,

barking hopefully, and together the tworan swiftly through the barn-yard andpast the cow-shed, and took the pathwhich led to the old mill. The way wasso familiar now to Hilda that she couldhave traversed it blindfold; and this waswell for her, for in the dense shade ofthe beech-plantation it was now pitchdark. The feathery branches brushedher face and caught the tendrils of herhair with their slender fingers. Therewas something ghostly in their touch.Hilda was not generally timid, but hernerves had been strung to a high pitchall day, and she had no longer fullcontrol of them. She shivered, andbending her head low, called to the dogand hurried on.

Out from among the trees now, into thedim starlit glade; down the pine-strewnpath, with the noise of falling waterfrom out the beechwood at the right,and the ruined mill looming blackbefore her. Now came the three brokensteps. Yes, so far she had no need ofthe lantern. Round the corner, steppingcarefully over the half-buried mill-stone. Groping her way, her handtouched the stone wall; but she drew itback hastily, so damp and cold thestones were. Darker and darker here;she must light the lantern before sheventured down the long flight of steps.The match spurted, and now the tinyyellow flame sprang up and shed a faint

light on the immediate space aroundher. It only made the outer darknessseem more intense. But no matter, shecould see two steps in front of her; andholding the lantern steadily before her,she stepped carefully down and down,until she stood on the firm greenswardof the glen. Ah! how differenteverything was now from its usualaspect. The green and gold were turnedinto black upon black. The laughing,dimpling, sun-kissed water was now ablack, gloomy pool, beyond which thefall shimmered white like a water-spirit(Undine, or was it Kuehleborn, themalignant and vengeful sprite ). The firsstood tall and gaunt, closing like aspectral guard about the ruined mill,

and pointing their long, dark fingers insilent menace at the intruder upon theirevening repose. Hildegarde shiveredagain, and held her lantern tighter,remembering how Bubble had said thatthe glen was "a tormentin' spooky placeafter dark." She looked fearfully abouther as a low wind rustled the branches.They bent towards her as if to clutchher; an angry whisper seemed to passfrom one to the other; and an utterlyunreasoning terror fell upon the girl.She stood for a moment as if paralyzedwith fear, when suddenly the little doggave a sharp yelp, and leaped up on herimpatiently. The sound startled her intonew terror; but in a moment therevulsion came, and she almost laughed

aloud. Here was she, a great girl, almosta woman, cowering and shivering, whilea tiny puppy, who had hardly any brainsat all, was eager to go on. She patted thedog, and "taking herself by both ears,"as she expressed it afterwards, walkedsteadily forward, pushed aside thedense tangle of vines and bushes, andstooped down to enter the black holewhich led into the vault of the mill.

A rush of cold air met her, and beatagainst her face like a black wing thatbrushed it. It had a mouldy smell.Holding up the lantern, Hildegardecrept as best she could through thenarrow opening. A gruesome place itwas in which she found herself. Grim

enough by daylight, it was now doublyso; for the blackness seemed likesomething tangible, some shapelessmonster which was gathering itselftogether, and shrinking back, inch byinch, as the little spark of light movedforward. The gaunt beams, the jaggedbits of iron, bent and twisted intofantastic shapes, stretched and thrustthemselves from every side, and againthe girl fancied them fleshless armsreaching out to clutch her. But hark!was that a sound, a faint sound fromthe farthest and darkest corner, wherethe great wheel raised its toothed andbroken round from the dismal pit

"Jock! my little Jock!" cried Hildegarde,

"are you there "

A feeble sound, the very ghost of a tinybark, answered her, and a faintscratching was heard. In an instant allfear left Hilda, and she sprang forward,holding the lantern high above herhead, and calling out words ofencouragement and cheer. "Courage,Jock! Cheer up, little man! Missis ishere; Missis will save you! Speak to him,Will! tell him you are here."

"Wow!" said Will, manfully, scuttlingabout in the darkness. "Wa-ow!" replieda pitiful squeak from the depths of thewheel-pit. Hilda reached the edge ofthe pit and looked down. In one corner

was a little white bundle, which movedfeebly, and wagged a piteous tail, andsqueaked with faint rapture. Evidentlythe little creature was exhausted,perhaps badly injured. How should shereach him She threw the ray of light oh!how dim it was, and how heavy andclose the darkness pressed! on the sideof the pit, and saw that it was a roughand jagged wall, with stones projectingat intervals. A moment's survey satisfiedher. Setting the lantern carefully at alittle distance, and bidding Will"charge" and be still, she began thedescent, feeling the way carefully withher feet, and grasping the rough stonesfirmly with her hands. Down! down!while the huge wheel towered over her,

and grinned with all its rusty teeth tosee so strange a sight. At last her feettouched the soft earth; another instant,and she had Jock in her arms, and wasfondling and caressing him, and sayingall sorts of foolish things to him in herdelight. But a cry of pain from thepoor puppy, even in the midst of hisfrantic though feeble demonstrationsof joy, told her that all was not right;and she found that one little leg hunglimp, and was evidently broken. Howshould she ever get him up For amoment she stood bewildered; andthen an idea came to her, which she hasalways maintained was the only reallyclever one she ever had. In her pre-occupation of mind she had forgotten

all day to take off the brown hollandapron which she had worn at her workin the morning, and it was the touch ofthis apron which brought herinspiration. Quick as a flash she had itoff, and tied round her neck, pinned upat both ends to form a bag. Then shestooped again to pick up Jock, whomshe had laid carefully down while shearranged the apron. As she did so, thefeeble ray from the lantern fell on aspace where the ground had beenscratched up, evidently by the puppy'spaws; and in that space somethingshone with a dull glitter. Hildegardebent lower, and found what seemed tobe a small brass handle, half coveredwith earth. She dug the earth away with

her hands, and pulled and tugged at thehandle for some time without success;but at length the sullen soil yielded, andshe staggered back against the wheelwith a small metal box in her hands. Notime now to examine the prize, be itwhat it might. Into the apron bag itwent, and on top of it went the puppy,yelping dismally. Then slowly, carefully,clinging with hands and feet for lifeand limb, Hilda reascended the wall.Oh, but it was hard work! Her handswere already very sore, and the heavybundle hung back from her neck andhalf choked her. Moreover the puppywas uncomfortable, and yelpedpiteously, and struggled in his bonds,while the sharp corner of the iron box

pressed painfully against the back ofher neck. The jutting stones were farapart, and several times it seemed as ifshe could not possibly reach the nextone. But the royal blood was fully up.Queen Hildegarde set her teeth, andgrasped the stones as if her slenderhands were nerved with steel. At last! atlast she felt the edge; and the nextmoment had dragged herself painfullyover it, and stood once more on solidground. She drew a long breath, andhastily untying the apron from herneck, took poor Jock tenderly in onearm, while with the other she carriedthe lantern and the iron box. Will wasjumping frantically about, and trying toreach his brother puppy, who

responded with squeaks of joy to hisenraptured greeting.

"Down, Will!" said Hilda, decidedly."Down, sir! Lie still, Jocky! we shall beat home soon now. Patience, little dog!"And Jock tried hard to be patient;though it was not pleasant to besqueezed into a ball while his mistresscrawled out of the hole, which she didwith some difficulty, laden with hertriple burden.

However, they were out at last, andspeeding back towards the farm as fastas eager feet could carry them. Littlethought had Hilda now of spectraltrees or ghostly gloom. Joyfully she

hurried back, up the long steps, alongthe glade, through the beach-plantation;only laughing now when the featheryfingers brushed her face, and huggingJock so tight that 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 thekitchen, breathless and exhausted, butradiant. The farmer and his wife, whowere sitting with disturbed and anxiouslooks, rose hastily as she entered.

"Oh, Hilda, dear!" cried Dame Hartley,"we have been terribly frightened aboutyou. Jacob has been searching But,good gracious, child!" she added,

breaking off hastily, "where have youbeen, and what have you been doing toget yourself into such a state!"

Well might the good woman exclaim,while the farmer gazed in silentastonishment. The girl's dress was tornand draggled, and covered with greatspots and splashes of black. Her facewas streaked with dirt, her fair hairhanging loose upon her shoulders.Could this be Hilda, the dainty, thespotless But her eyes shone like stars,and her face, though very pale, wore alook of triumphant delight.

"I have found him!" she said, simply."My little Jock! Simon threw him into

the wheel-pit of the old mill, and Iwent to get him out. His leg is broken,but I know you can set it, Nurse Lucy.Don't look so frightened," she added,smiling, seeing that the farmer and hiswife were fairly pale with horror; "itwas not so very bad, after all." And in asfew words as might be, she told thestory of Bubble's note and of herstrange expedition.

"My child! my child!" cried DameHartley, putting her arms round the girl,and weeping as she did so. "How couldyou do such a fearful thing Think, ifyour foot had slipped you might belying there now yourself, in thatdreadful place!" and she shuddered,

putting back the tangle of fair hair withtrembling fingers.

"Ah, but you see, my foot didn't slip,Nurse Lucy!" replied Hilda, gayly. "Iwouldn't let it slip! And here I am safeand sound, so it's really absurd for youto be frightened now, my dear!"

"Why in the name of the airthly didn'tye wait till I kem home, and let me godown for ye " demanded the farmer,who was secretly delighted with theexploit, though he tried to look verygrave.

"Oh! I I never thought of it!" saidHildegarde. "My only thought was to

get down there as quickly as possible.So I waited till I heard you coming, forI didn't want to leave Nurse Lucy alone;and then I went! And I will not bescolded," she added quickly, "for Ithink I have made a great discovery."She held one hand behind her as shespoke, and her eyes sparkled as shefixed them on the farmer. "Dear FarmerHartley," she said, "is it true, as Bubbletold me, that your father used to godown often into the vault of the oldmill "

"Why, yes, he did, frequent!" said thefarmer, wondering. "'Twas a fancy ofhis, pokin' about thar. But what "

"Wait a moment!" cried Hilda,trembling with excitement. "Wait amoment! Think a little, dear FarmerHartley! Did you not tell me that whenhe was dying, your father saidsomething about digging Try toremember just what he said!"

The farmer ran his hand through hisshaggy locks with a bewildered look."What on airth are ye drivin' at, Hildy "he said. "Father why, he didn't saynothin' at the last, 'cept about themcrazy di'monds he was allus jawin'about. 'Di'monds' says he. And then hesays 'Dig!' an' fell back on the piller, an'that was all."

"Yes!" cried Hilda. "And you never diddig, did you But now somebody hasbeen digging. Little Jock began, and Ifinished; and we have found we havefound " She broke off suddenly, anddrawing her hand from behind herback, held up the iron box. "Take it!"she cried, thrusting it into theastonished farmer's hands, and fallingon her knees beside his chair. "Take itand open it! I think oh! I am sure thatyou will not lose the farm after all.Open it quickly, please!"

Now much agitated in spite of himself,Farmer Hartley bent himself to the task

of opening the box. For some minutesit resisted stubbornly, and even whenthe lock was broken, the lid clungfirmly, and the rusted hinges refused toperform their office. But at length theyyielded, and slowly, unwillingly, the boxopened. Hilda's breath came short andquick, and she clasped her handsunconsciously as she bent forward tolook into the mysterious casket. Whatdid she see

At first nothing but a handkerchief, ayellow silk handkerchief, of curiouspattern, carefully folded into a smallsquare and fitting nicely inside the box.That was all; but Farmer Hartley's voicetrembled as he said, in a husky whisper,

"Father's hankcher!" and it was with ashaking hand that he lifted the folds ofsilk. One look and he fell back in hischair, while Hildegarde quietly satdown on the floor and cried. For thediamonds were there! Big diamondsand little diamonds, some rough anddull, others flashing out sparks of light,as if they shone the brighter for theirlong imprisonment; some tinged withyellow or blue, some with the clearwhite radiance which is seen in nothingelse save a dewdrop when the morningsun first strikes upon it. There they lay,a handful of stones, a little heap ofshining crystals; but enough to pay offthe mortgage on Hartley's Glen andleave the farmer a rich man for life.

Dame Hartley was the first to rouseherself from the silent amaze intowhich they had fallen. "Well, well!" shesaid, wiping her eyes, "the ways ofProvidence are mysterious. To think ofit, after all these years! Why, Jacob!Come, my dear, come! You ain't crying,now that the Lord, and this blessedchild under Him, has taken away allyour trouble "

But the farmer, to his own greatamazement, was crying. He sobbedquietly once or twice, then cleared histhroat, and wiped his eyes with the oldsilk handkerchief. "Poor ol' father," hesaid, simply. "It seems kind o' hard that

nobody ever believed him, an' we lethim die thinkin' he was crazy. Thattakes holt on me; it does, Marm Lucy,now I tell ye! Seems like's if I'd beenpunished for not havin' faith, and nowI git the reward without havin' deservedit."

"As if you could have reward enough!"cried Hildegarde, laying her hand onhis affectionately. "But, oh! do just lookat them, dear Farmer Hartley! Aren'tthey beautiful But what is that peepingout of the cotton-wool beneath It issomething red."

Farmer Hartley felt beneath the cottonwhich lined the box, and drew out oh,

wonderful! a chain of rubies! Eachstone glowed like a living coal as heheld it up in the lamp-light. Were theyrubies, or were they drops of bloodlinked together by a thread of gold

"The princess's necklace!" cried Hilda."Oh, beautiful! beautiful! And I knew itwas 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 glowingwith happiness. "She said " his voicetrembled as he spoke, "that furrinwoman she said it was her heart's bloodas father had saved. And now it's stillblood, Hildy, my gal, our heart's blood,

that goes out to you, and loves andblesses you as if you were our ownchild come back from the dead." Anddrawing her to him, he clasped the rubychain round Hilda's neck.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE TREE-PARTY.

Another golden day! But the dayswould all be golden now, thoughtHildegarde. "Oh, how different it isfrom yesterday!" she cried to NurseLucy as she danced about the kitchen."The sun shone yesterday, but it did us

no good. To-day it warms my heart, thegood sunshine. And yesterday the treesseemed to mock me, with all theirscarlet and gold; but to-day they aredressed up to celebrate our goodfortune. Let us call them in to rejoicewith us, Nurse Lucy. Let us have a tree-party, instead of a tea-party!"

"My dear," said Dame Hartley, lookingup with a puzzled smile, "what do youmean "

"Oh! I don't mean to invite the wholeforest to supper," said Hildegarde,laughing. "But you shall see, NurseLucy; you shall see. Just wait till thisafternoon. I must run now over to

Pink's, and tell her all the wonderfulthings that have happened, and see howpoor Bubble is."

Away she went like a flash, through thegolden fields, down the lane, where themaples made a flaming tent of scarletover her head, bursting suddenly like awhirlwind into the little cottage, wherethe brother and sister, both now nearlyhelpless, sat waiting with pale andanxious faces. At sight of her Pinkuttered a cry of delight, while Bubbleflushed with pleasure; and both wereabout to pour out a flood of eagerquestions, when Hilda laid her handover 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 spentthe two minutes in filling the kettle andpresenting Bubble with a pot of peach-marmalade that Dame Hartley had senthim; then, sitting down by the invalid'schair, she told from beginning to endthe history of the past two days. Therecital was thrilling enough, and beforeit was over the pale cheeks werecrimson, and the two pairs of blue eyesblazed with excitement.

"Oh!" cried Bubble, hopping up anddown in his chair, regardless of thesprained ankle. "Oh, I say, Miss Hildy! Idunno what to say! Wouldn't he ha' likedit, 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. "Iwas jest sayin' over the ballid when Isaw ye comin'. Warn't it like him, Pink,say "

But Pink drew the stately head downtowards her, and kissed the glowingcheek, and whispered, "QueenHildegarde! my queen!"

The tears started to Hilda's eyes as shereturned the kiss; but she brushed themaway, and rose hastily, announcing her

intention of "setting things to rights"against Mrs. Chirk's return. "You poordears!" she cried, "how did you manageyesterday If I had only known, I wouldhave come and got dinner for you."

"Oh! we got on very well indeed,"replied Pink, laughing, "though therewere one or two mishaps. Fortunatelythere was plenty of bread in thecupboard, where we could easily reachit; and with that and the molasses jug,we were in no danger of starvation. ButMother had left a custard-pie on theupper shelf, and poor Bubble wanted apiece of it for dinner. But neither of uscripples could get at it; and for a longtime we could think of no plan which

would make it possible. At last Bubblehad a bright idea. You remember thebig fork that Mother uses to take piesout of the oven Well, he spliced that onto the broom-handle, and then,standing well back, so that he could see(on one foot, of course, for he couldn'tput the other to the ground), hereached for the pie. It was a dreadfulmoment, Hilda! The pie slid easily onto the fork, and for a moment allseemed to promise well; but the nextminute, just as Bubble began to lowerit, he wavered on his one foot only alittle, but enough to send the poor pietumbling to the ground."

"Poor pie!" cried Bubble. "Wal, I like

that! Poor me, I sh'd say. I'd had bread'nm'lasses three meals runnin', MissHildy. Now don't you think that old piemight ha' come down straight "

"You should have seen his face, poordear!" cried Pink. "He really couldn'tlaugh for almost two minutes."

"Wal, I s'pose 'twas kind o' funny," theboy admitted, while Hilda laughedmerrily over the catastrophe. "But thar!when one's used to standin' on twolegs, it's dretful onhandy tryin' to standon one. We'll have bread and jam to-day," he added, with an affectionateglance at the pot of marmalade, "andthat's a good enough dinner for the

Governor o' the State."

"Indeed, you shall have more thanthat!" cried Hildegarde. "Nurse Lucydoes not need me before dinner, so Iwill get your dinner for you."

So the active girl made up the fire anew,swept the floor, dusted tables andchairs, and made the little room looktidy and cheerful, as Pink loved to seeit. Then she ran down to the cellar, andreappeared with a basket of potatoesand a pan of rosy apples.

"Now we will perform a trio!" she said."Pink, you shall peel and core theapples for apple-sauce, and Bubble

shall pare the potatoes, while I makebiscuit and gingerbread."

Accordingly, she rolled up her sleevesand set busily to work; the othersfollowed her example, and fingers andtongues moved ceaselessly, in cheerfulemulation of each other.

"I'd like to git hold o' Simon Hartley!"said Bubble, slicing vengefully at a bigpotato. "I wish't he was this tater, so Ido! I'd skin him! Yah! ornery critter! An'him standin' thar an' grinnin' at me overthe wall, an' I couldn't do nothin'!Seemed's though I sh'd fly, Miss Hildy,it did; an' then not to be able to crawleven! I sw I tell ye, now, I didn't like

that."

"Poor Bubble!" said Hilda,compassionately, "I'm sure you didn't.And did he really start to crawl over tothe farm, Pink "

"Indeed he did!" replied Pink."Nothing that I could say would keephim from trying it; so I bandaged hisankle as well as I could, and off hestarted. But he fainted twice before hegot to the gate, so there was nothingfor it but to crawl back again, and havethe knees of his trousers mended."

"Dear boy!" said Hilda, patting the curlyhead affectionately. "Good, faithful

boy! I shall think a great deal more ofit, Bubble, than if you had been able towalk all the way. And, after all," sheadded, "I am glad I had to do it myself,go down to the mill, I mean. It issomething to remember! I would nothave missed it."

"No more wouldn't I!" cried Bubble,enthusiastically. "I'd ha' done it for yetwenty times, ye know that, Miss Hildy;but I druther ha' hed you do it;" andHildegarde understood him perfectly.

The simple meal prepared and set out,Hilda bade farewell to her two friends,and flitted back to the farm. Mrs. Chirkwas to return in the evening, so she felt

no further anxiety about them.

She found the farmer just returnedfrom the village in high spirits. SquireGaylord had examined the diamonds,pronounced them of great value, andhad readily advanced the money to payoff the mortgage, taking two or threelarge stones as security. Lawyer Clinchhad reluctantly received his money, andrelinquished all claim upon Hartley'sGlen, though with a very bad grace.

"He kind o' insinuated that thedi'monds had prob'ly ben stole byFather 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' tharwas more things than that as might beinquired into, and if he began, othersmight go on; and Lawyer Clinch hadn'tnothin' more to say after that."

When dinner was over, and everything"redded up," Hildegarde sent DameHartley upstairs to take a nap, andescorted the farmer as far as the barnon his way to the turnip-field. Then,"the coast being clear," she said toherself, "we will prepare for the tree-party."

Accordingly, arming herself with astout pruning-knife, she took her wayto the "wood-lot," which lay on the

north side of the house. The splendorof the trees, which were now in fullautumnal glory, gave Hilda a sort ofrapture as she approached them. Whathad she ever seen so beautiful as this,the shifting, twinkling myriads ofleaves, blazing with every imaginableshade of color above the black, straighttrunks; the deep, translucent blue ofthe sky bending above; the golden lightwhich transfused the whole scene; thecrisp freshness of the afternoon air Shewanted to sing, to dance, to doeverything that was joyous and free. Butnow she had work to do. She visited allher favorite trees, the purple ash, thevivid, passionate maples, the oaks intheir sober richness of murrey and

crimson. On each and all she leviedcontributions, cutting armful afterarmful, and carried them to the house,piling them in splendid heaps on theshed-floor. Then, after carefully layingaside a few specially perfect branches,she began the work of decoration.Over the chimney-piece she laid greatboughs of maple, glittering like purestgold in the afternoon light, whichstreamed broadly in through thewindows. Others scarlet, pink, dappledred, and yellow were placed over thewindows, the doors, the dresser. Shefilled the corners with stately oak-boughs, and made a bower of thepurple ash in the bow-window, Faith'swindow. Then she set the tea-table with

the best china, every plate and dishresting on a mat of scarlet leaves, whilea chain of yellow ones outlined theshining square board. A tiny scarletwreath encircled the tea-kettle, and eventhe butter-dish displayed its goldenballs beneath an arch of flamingcrimson. This done, she filled a greatglass bowl with purple-fringed astersand long, gleaming sprays of golden-rod, and setting it in the middle of thetable, stood back with her head a littleon one side and surveyed the generaleffect.

"Good!" was her final comment; "verygood! And now for my own part."

She gathered in her apron the branchesfirst selected, and carried them up toher own room, where she proceeded tostrip off the leaves and to fashion theminto long garlands. As her busy fingersworked, her thoughts flew hither andthither, bringing back the memories ofthe past few days. Now she stood in thekitchen, pistol in hand, facing the rascalSimon Hartley; and she laughed tothink how he had shaken and coweredbefore the empty weapon. Now shewas in the vault of the ruined mill, witha thousand horrors of darknesspressing on her, and only the tiny sparkof light in her lantern to keep off theblack and shapeless monsters. Now shethought of the kind farmer, with a

throb of pity, as she recalled thehopeless sadness of his face the nightbefore. Just the very night before, only afew hours; and now how differenteverything was! Her heart gave a littlehappy thrill to think that she, Hilda, the"city gal," had been able to help thesedear friends in their trouble. They lovedher already, she knew that; they wouldlove her more now. Ah! and they wouldmiss her all the more, now that shemust leave them so soon.

Then, like a flash, her thoughts revertedto the plan she had been revolving inher mind two days before, before allthese strange things had happened. Itwas a delightful little plan! Pink was to

be sent to a New York hospital, thevery best hospital that could be found;and Hildegarde hoped she thought shefelt almost sure that the trouble couldbe greatly helped, if not curedaltogether. And then, when Pink waswell, or at least a great, great deal better,she was to come and live at the farm,and help Nurse Lucy, and sing to thefarmer, and be all the comfort no, notall, but nearly the comfort that Faithwould have been if she had lived. AndBubble yes! Bubble must go to school,to a good school, where his bright,quick mind should learn everythingthere was to learn. Papa would see tothat, Hilda knew he would. Bubblewould delight Papa! And then he would

go to college, and by and by become afamous doctor, or a great lawyer, or oh!Bubble could be anything he chose, shewas sure of it.

So the girl's happy thoughts flew onthrough the years that were to come,weaving golden fancies even as herfingers were weaving the gay chains ofshining leaves; but let us hope thefancy-chains, airy as they were, weredestined to become substantial realitieslong after the golden wreaths hadfaded.

But now the garlands were ready, andnone too soon; for the shadows werelengthening, and she heard Nurse Lucy

downstairs, and Farmer Hartley wouldbe coming in soon to his tea. She tookfrom a drawer her one white frock, theplain lawn which had once seemed soover-plain to her, and with the wreathsof scarlet and gold she made a verywonderful thing of it. Fifteen minutes'careful work, and Hilda stood lookingat her image in the glass, well pleasedand a little surprised; for she had beentoo busy of late to think much abouther looks, and had not realized howsun and air and a free, out-door life hadmade her beauty blossom and glow likea rose in mid-June. With a scarletchaplet crowning her fair locks, bandsof gold about waist and neck andsleeves, and the whole skirt covered

with a fantastic tracery of mingled goldand fire, she was a vision of almoststartling loveliness. She gave a littlehappy laugh. "Dear old Farmer!" shesaid, "he likes to see me fine. I thinkthis will please him." And light as athistledown, the girl floated downstairsand danced into the kitchen just asFarmer Hartley entered it from theother side.

"Highty-tighty!" cried the good man,"what's all this Is there a fireEverything's all ablaze! Why, Hildy!bless my soul!" He stood in silentdelight, looking at the lovely figurebefore him, with its face of rosy joyand its happy, laughing eyes.

"It's a tree-party," explained Hildegarde,taking his two hands and leading himforward. "I'm part of it, you see,Farmer Hartley. Do you like it Is itpretty It's to celebrate our goodfortune," she added; and putting herarm in the old man's, she led him aboutthe room, pointing out the variousdecorations, and asking his approval.

Farmer Hartley admired everythinggreatly, but in an absent way, as if hismind were preoccupied with othermatters. He turned frequently towardsthe door, as if he expected some one tofollow him. "All for me " he keptasking. "All for me and Marm Lucy,

Hildy Ye ye ain't expectin' nobody elseto tea, now "

"No," said Hilda, wondering. "Ofcourse not. Who else is there to comeBubble has sprained his ankle, youknow, and Pink "

"Yes, yes; I know, I know!" said thefarmer, still with that backward glanceat the door. And then, as he heard somenoise in the yard, he added hurriedly:"At the same time, ye know, Hildy,people do sometimes drop in to teakind o' onexpected-like, y' understand.And and all this pretty show mightmight seem to indicate, ye see "

"Jacob Hartley what are you up to "demanded Nurse Lucy, rather anxiously,as she stood at the shed-door watchinghim intently. "Does your head feeldizzy You'd better go and lie down;you've had too much excitement for aman of "

"Oh, you thar, Marm Lucy " cried thefarmer, with a sigh of relief that washalf a chuckle, "Now, thar! you tellHildy that folks does sometimes dropin onexpected-like folks from aconsid'able distance sometimes. Why,I've known 'em " But here he stoppedsuddenly. And as Hilda, expecting sheknew not what, stood with handsclasped together, and beating heart, the

door was thrown open and a strong,cheery voice cried, "Well, General!"Another moment, and she was claspedin her father's arms.

THE LAST WORD.

The lovely autumn is gone, and winteris here. Mr. and Mrs. Graham have longsince been settled at home, andHildegarde is with them. How does itfare with her, the new Hildegarde,under the old influences and amid theold surroundings For answer, let ustake the word of her oldest friend, thefriend who "knows Hildegarde!" Madge

Everton has just finished a long letterto Helen McIvor, who is spending thewinter in Washington, and there can beno 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! Itis all the result of that dreadful summerspent among swineherds. You know whatthe Bible says! I don't know exactlywhat, but something terrible about thatsort of thing. Of course it is partly hermother's influence as well. I havealways DREADED it for Hilda, who isso sensitive to impressions. Why, Iremember, as far back as the first yearthat we were at Mme. Haut-Ton's, Mrs.

Graham saying to Mamma, 'I wish wecould interest our girls a little in sensiblethings!' My dear, she meant hospitals andsoup-kitchens and things! And Mammasaid (you know Mamma isn't in the leastafraid of Mrs. Graham, though Iconfess I AM!), 'My dear Mrs. Graham,if there is one thing Society will NOTtolerate, it is a sensible woman. Our girlsmight as well have the small-pox atonce, and be done with it.' Wasn't itclever of Mamma And Mrs. Graham justLOOKED at her as if she were a camelfrom Barnum's.

"Well, poor Hildegarde is sensibleenough now to satisfy even her mother.Ever since she came home from that

odious place, it has been one round ofhospitals and tenement-houses andsloughs of horror. I don't mean that shehas given up school, for she is studyingharder than ever; but out of school sheis simply swallowed up by these wretchedthings. I have remonstrated with heralmost on my KNEES. 'Hildegarde,' Isaid one day, 'do you REALIZE thatyou are practically giving up your wholeLIFE If you once lose your place inSociety among those of your own ageand position, you NEVER can regain it.Do you REALIZE this, Hilda for I feelit a SOLEMN DUTY to warn you!' Mydear, she actually LAUGHED! and onlysaid, 'Dear Madge, I have only justbegun to have any life!' And that was all

I could get out of her, for just thensome one came in. But even this is notthe worst! Oh, Helen! she has some ofthe creatures whom she saw thissummer, actually staying in the house, inTHAT house, which we used to callCastle Graham, and were almost afraidto enter ourselves, so stately andbeautiful it was! There are two of thesecreatures, a girl about our age, somesort of dreadful cripple, who goesabout in a bath-chair, and a freckledimp of a boy. The girl is at Hospital fortreatment, but spends every Sunday at theGrahams', and Hilda devotes most ofher spare time to her. The boy is atschool, one of the best schools in thecity. 'But who are these people ' I hear

you cry. My dear! they are simplyignorant paupers, who were Hilda'sconstant companions through thatdisastrous summer. Now their mother isdead, and the people with whom Hildastayed have adopted them. The boy isto be a doctor, and the girl is going toget well, Dr. George says. (He calls her abeautiful and interesting creature; butyou know what that means. Any diseasedcreature is beautiful to him!) Well, andTHESE, my dear Helen, are HildaGraham's FRIENDS, for whom shehas deserted her OLD ones! for thoughshe is unchanged towards me when I seeher, I hardly ever do see her. She caresnothing for my pursuits, and I certainlyhave 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 prettierthan ever, with a fine color and eyes likestars), and was talking so earnestly, andwalking somehow as if she weretreading on air, it sent a PANG throughmy heart. I just paused an instant (forthough 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 forher ear, 'Ah! has Queen Hildegarde come tothis ' My dear, she only LAUGHED!But that girl, that cripple, looked upwith a smile and a sort of flash overher face, and said, just as if she knew

me, 'Yes, Miss Everton! the Queen hascome to her kingdom!'"

THE END

Selections from The Page Company'sBooks 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, hasthe very finest kind of wholesome,honest, lively girlishness." Chicago Inter-Ocean.

BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS ANDEDYTH ELLERBECK READ.

"A healthy, natural atmosphere breathesfrom every chapter." Boston Transcript.

BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS ANDLELA HORN RICHARDS.

"It is bound to become popularbecause of its wholesomeness and itsmany human touches." Boston Globe.

BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS ANDLELA HORN RICHARDS.

"It cannot fail to prove fascinating togirls in their teens." New York Sun.

BLUE BONNET DEBUTANTE

By LELA HORN RICHARDS.

An interesting picture of the unfoldingof life for Blue Bonnet.

BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVENSTARS

By LELA HORN RICHARDS.

"The author's intimate detail and charmof narration gives the reader aninteresting story of the heroine's waractivities." Pittsburgh Leader.

ONLY HENRIETTA

BY LELA HORN RICHARDS.

Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated$1.90

"It is an inspiring story of theunfolding of life for a young girl astory in which there is plenty of actionto hold interest and wealth of delicatesympathy and understanding thatappeals to the hearts of young andold." Pittsburgh Leader.

HENRIETTA'S INHERITANCE: ASequel to "Only Henrietta"

BY LELA HORN RICHARDS.

Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated$1.90

"One of the most noteworthy storiesfor girls issued this season. The life ofHenrietta is made very real, and there isenough incident in the narrative tobalance the delightful characterization."Providence Journal.

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 ofbooks written about the Charles Stuartsof England, but never a merrier andmore pathetic one than 'The YoungCavaliers.'" Family Herald.

"The story moves quickly, and everypage flashes a new thrill before the

reader, with plenty of suspense andexcitement. There is valor, affection,romance, chivalry and humor in thisfascinating tale." 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 ANDROSEMARY

These are two of Miss Allen's earliest

and most successful stories, combinedin a single volume to meet the insistentdemands from young people for thesetwo particular tales.

THE MARTIE TWINS: Continuingthe Adventures of Joe, the Circus Boy

"The chief charm of the story is that itcontains so much of human nature. Itis so real that it touches the heartstrings." New York Standard.

MARJORY, THE CIRCUS GIRL

A sequel to "Joe, the Circus boy," and"The Martie Twins."

MARJORY AT THE WILLOWSContinuing the story of Marjory, theCircus Girl.

"Miss Allen does not write impossiblestories, but delightfully pins her littlefolk right down to this life of ours, inwhich she ranges vigorously anddelightfully." Boston Ideas.

MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY: Or,What Happened at Clover Patch

"Miss Allen certainly knows how toplease the children and tells themstories that never fail to charm."Madison Courier.

MARJORY'S DISCOVERY

This new addition to the popularMARJORY-JOE SERIES is as lovableand original as any of the othercreations of this writer of charmingstories. We get little peeps at theprecious twins, at the healthy mindedJoe and sweet Marjory. There is abungalow party, which lasts the entiresummer, in which all of the charactersof the previous MARJORY-JOEstories participate, and their happytimes are delightfully depicted.

THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES

By HARRISON ADAMS

Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, pervolume $1.65

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THEOHIO; OR, CLEARING THEWILDERNESS.

"Such books as this are an admirablemeans of stimulating among the youngAmericans of to-day interest in thestory of their pioneer ancestors and theearly days of the Republic." BostonGlobe.

THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE

GREAT LAKES; OR, ON THETRAIL OF THE IROQUOIS.

"The recital of the daring deeds of thefrontier is not only interesting butinstructive as well and shows thesterling type of character which thesedays of self-reliance and trialproduced." American Tourist, Chicago.

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THEMISSISSIPPI; OR, THEHOMESTEAD IN THEWILDERNESS.

"The story is told with spirit, and is fullof adventure." New York Sun.

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THEMISSOURI; OR, IN THE COUNTRYOF THE SIOUX.

"Vivid in style, vigorous in movement,full of dramatic situations, true tohistoric perspective, this story is acapital one for boys." WatchmanExaminer, New York City.

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THEYELLOWSTONE; OR, LOST INTHE LAND OF WONDERS.

"There is plenty of lively adventure andaction and the story is well told." DuluthHerald, Duluth, Minn.

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THECOLUMBIA; OR, IN THEWILDERNESS OF THE GREATNORTHWEST.

"The story is full of spirited action andcontains much valuable historicalinformation." Boston Herald.

THE FRIENDLY TERRACE SERIES

By HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH

Each one volume, cloth, decorative, 12mo,illustrated, per volume $1.75

THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLYTERRACE

"It is a book that cheers, that inspires tohigher thinking; it knits hearts; itunfolds neighborhood plans in a waythat makes one tingle to try carryingthem out, and most of all it proves thatin daily life, threads of wonderfulissues are being woven in with whatappears the most ordinary of material,but which in the end brings resultsstranger than the most thrilling fiction."Belle Kellogg Towne in The Young People'sWeekly, Chicago.

PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION

"It is a clean, wholesome, hearty story,well told and full of incident. It carriesone through experiences that heartenand brighten the day." Utica, N.Y.,Observer.

PEGGY RAYMOND'S SCHOOLDAYS

"It is a bright, entertaining story, withhappy girls, good times, naturaldevelopment, and a gentle earnestnessof general tone." The Christian Register,Boston.

THE FRIENDLY TERRACEQUARTETTE

"The story is told in easy andentertaining style and is a mostdelightful narrative, especially foryoung people. It will also make theolder readers feel younger, for whilereading it they will surely live again inthe days of their youth." Troy Budget.

PEGGY RAYMOND'S WAY

"The author has again produced a storythat is replete with wholesomeincidents and makes Peggy morelovable than ever as a companion andleader." World of Books.

"It possesses a plot of much merit andthrough its 324 pages it weaves a tale

of love and of adventure which ranksit among the best books for girls."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 bewritten, books that acquaint youngreaders with historical personages in a

pleasant, informal way." New York Sun.

FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS

"Mr. Johnston has done faithful workin this volume, and his relation ofbattles, sieges and struggles of thesefamous Indians with the whites for thepossession of America is a worthyaddition to United States History." NewYork Marine Journal.

FAMOUS SCOUTS

"It is the kind of a book that will havea great fascination for boys and youngmen." New London Day.

FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN ANDADVENTURERS OF THE SEA

"The tales are more than merelyinteresting; they are entrancing, stirringthe blood with thrilling force."-Pittsburgh Post.

FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN ANDHEROES OF THE BORDER

"The accounts are not only authentic,but distinctly readable, making a bookof wide appeal to all who love thehistory of actual adventure." ClevelandLeader.

FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND

EXPLORERS OF AMERICA

"The book is an epitome of some ofthe wildest and bravest adventures ofwhich the world has known." BrooklynDaily Eagle.

FAMOUS GENERALS OF THEGREAT WAR

Who Led the United States and HerAllies to a Glorious Victory.

"The pages of this book have thecharm of romance without its unreality.The book illuminates, with life-likeportraits, 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 boyread them; and tell you." BostonTranscript.

FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.Second Series

"As fascinating as fiction are thesebiographies, which emphasize theirhumble beginning and drive home the

truth that just as every soldier ofNapoleon carried a marshal's baton inhis knapsack, so every Americanyoungster carries potential successunder his hat." New York World.

THE FOUNDERS OF AMERICA(Lives of Great Americans from theRevolution to the Monroe Doctrine)

"How can one become acquainted withthe histories of some of the famousmen of the United States A very goodway is to read 'The Founders ofAmerica,' by Edwin Wildman, whereinthe life stories of fifteen men whofounded our country are told" NewYork Post.

FAMOUS LEADERS OFCHARACTER (Lives of GreatAmericans from the Civil War toToday)

"An informing, interesting andinspiring book for boys." PresbyterianBanner.

" ... Is a book that should be read byevery boy in the whole country...."Atlanta Constitution.

FAMOUS AMERICAN NAVALOFFICERS

With a complete index.

By CHARLES LEE LEWIS

Professor, United States Naval Academy,Annapolis

"Professor Lewis does not make themistake of bringing together simply acollection of biographical sketches. Inconnection with the life of John PaulJones, Stephen Decatur, and otherfamous naval officers, he groups theevents of the period in which theofficer distinguished himself, andcombines the whole into a colorful andstirring narrative." Boston Herald.

STORIES BY EVALEEN STEIN

Each, one volume, cloth decorative,12mo, illustrated, with a jacket in color$1.65

THE CHRISTMAS PORRINGER

This story happened many hundredsof years ago in the quaint Flemish cityof Bruges and concerns a little girlnamed Karen, who worked at lace-making with her aged grandmother.

GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK

"No works in juvenile fiction containso many of the elements that stir thehearts of children and grown-ups as

well as do the stories so admirably toldby this author." Louisville Daily Courier.

A LITTLE SHEPHERD OFPROVENCE

"The story should be one of theinfluences in the life of every child towhom good stories can be made toappeal." Public Ledger.

THE LITTLE COUNT OFNORMANDY

"This touching and pleasing story istold with a wealth of interest coupledwith enlivening descriptions of thecountry where its scenes are laid and of

the people thereof" Wilmington EveryEvening.

WHEN FAIRIES WERE FRIENDLY

"The stories are music in prose they arelike pearls on a chain of gold eachword seems exactly the right word inthe right place; the stories singthemselves out, they are so beautifullyexpressed." The Lafayette Leader.

PEPIN: A Tale of Twelfth Night

"This retelling of an old Twelfth Nightromance is a creation almost as perfectas her 'Christmas Porringer.'" LexingtonHerald.