CHAPTER XXXIII.
HOW THE MISSION ENDED.
"Whither now?" asked Lawe.
"Home," said Madam Breeze. "We've nothing more to do but wait for the morning. If all go well, and all shall go well, never fear! we will see old Spite—faugh!—and all his Pixie crew—wheeze!—scattered to the four winds before morning. Be up bright and early. You shall find me on hand at daybreak, and by sunrise Brownieland may proclaim a Jubilee—hoogh!"
When the chariot reached Lone Aspen, Lawe called his troopers, and with many warm thanks bade the Elf good-bye, and hurried back to his former bivouac at the tip-top of the large Rose Bush. The ponies were tethered under the leaves out of Pixie sight, and the troopers stretched themselves upon the branches to sleep, or sat in the forks of the limbs and talked over old campaigns until nightfall. Always, however, sentinels kept watch against surprise. The day passed without alarm, and when night came on the Brownies composed themselves to sleep. Lawe, full of anxiety, was sleepless. He had firm faith that Madam Breeze would bring deliverance, but as she had not told her plans, he could only guess what they were from such hints as had been dropped while arranging matters with her friends. Still, there was so much doubt in his mind that he could scarcely compose himself to wait until the morrow. He descended the bush, dodging on the way the round beautiful snares of the Wheel Legion swung among the daisies, and the criss-cross and knotted nets of the Lineweavers.
Fig. 143.—"The Round Beautiful Snares of the Wheel Legion Swung Among the Daisies."
On the ground beneath him a party of Pixie officers were gossiping over current events. There was Saltus of the Vaulting Legion, a large-eyed, intelligent fellow, dressed in a black uniform, with gold and scarlet facings, and a bright metallic green helmet and sword sheath. He was famous for his long leaps, being able to make at a single jump the distance of several hundred millimeters. There also were Lieutenant Heady, and Cito of the Wolf battalion, and Dysdera of the Tubeweavers, who lived in a sac-like tent from which the Brownies had nicknamed him "Pixie Silk-poke." They were all in high feather, and were making merry yarns and jokes over the late disasters which had befallen their enemies. Lieutenant Heady was in the midst of a boastful prediction of the utter ruin of all Brownieland when a runner arrived with news of the strange excitement among the Brownies, and the illumination of the camp and ships, as related in a former chapter.
Fig. 144.—"The Criss-Cross and Knotted Net of the Lineweavers."
"What can it mean?" asked Saltus.
"No one knows," replied the runner.
"P'raps they've got up a big feed and pow-wow for some pompous general," growled Heady.
"Aha!" said Ensign Lawe; and having doubled the guard, he sped away through the moonlight. When he came back with the glorious news of the rescue of the Nurses, his squad of troopers could not restrain their joy, and broke out with a round of cheers.
"Whew!" cried Cito, "Brownies here, as I live! After them, lads!" and he ran up the Rose Bush full speed.
"Heigh-ho!" cried Saltus, leaping upon the leaves, "mount for them, Vaulters! Jump, jump quickly!"
Fig. 145.—"Dysdera of the Tubeweavers."
"Confusion seize 'em," growled Heady between his teeth, "I'll put a stopper on your throats, my pretty chickidees!" Thereupon he swung himself to a twig and followed his comrades. But Lawe had taken the alarm, and betook himself and troopers to the Virginia creeper above the parlor window, where they were out of harm's way.
Now the night passed merrily along. From the depth of despair the Ensign and his men were suddenly lifted to the height of joy. The news seemed too good to be true; moreover, it was like a prophetic assurance of further good fortune on the morrow. Lawe's spirits rose to the highest pitch; and when at last he fell asleep it was to dream of victory, love and Grace.
"Oho, oho! Did I surprise you, Mr. Ensign?" was the greeting which came to him as he awoke. It was daybreak. There sat Madam Breeze on the Virginia creeper above him, smiling good-humoredly, and shaking the vine gently. He hurried to her side, bade her good morning, and told her the news of Faith and Sophia's rescue. Madam shook with joyful excitement until the vine clattered against the wall.
"Hist!" she cried, "that will never do! Silence—do you hear? Softly—hu-sh! We must keep cool a while longer—wheeze!" She choked off her cough as she spoke, and sat still, at least as still as she could sit.
Lawe looked out upon the lawn. There was Fairy Dew giving the finishing touch to her night's work. As she flew with quick wings above the grass, her arms played rapidly upon the sacs beneath them, and from the many tubes attached thereto the spray flew in all directions.
"Humph!" said the Ensign as he watched with curious interest this fairy spraying machine. "What a busy little body Fairy Dew must be! See what an immense work she has wrought during the night!"
"Aye, aye! That is what we want. Look how the dew brings out to view yonder Pixie tents on the lawn and in the bushes. Ha, ha! Good, indeed!—wheeze!" The Elf clapped her hands merrily at the sight. But Lawe could hardly enter into the pleasure of the view, for as he saw almost every square foot of his beloved homestead grounds covered with the tents of his foes, showing white and clear under their load of dew-drops, his heart beat tumultuously with grief, shame and anger. He therefore shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.
"Never mind," cried Madam Breeze, "we shall see presently. Aha! lookee yonder! There comes the sun! All is well! Hoogh!—hurrah!"
The first rays of the rising sun were beginning to peep between the Two Pines, touch the tip of the Giantstone's poll and shoot out across the river.
"Bless the kind Cloud Elves," exclaimed Madam, "they have served us truly, and left the Gate of the Sun open wide. Welcome, welcome, good Sol! Here, this way now, Fairy Sunbeam, follow me."
Fig. 146.—Dew-Sprinkled Tents upon the Lawn.
The Elf tossed herself off the vine and bustled away to the front window that looks toward the northeast, facing the great bend in the Ohio River. She shook the window shutter until the slats rattled and fell open.
"In with you now!" she cried to the Sunbeam. "Right in! Off the floor now, please. Up the white bed-spread. There—that is it; that's it! Just the spot, full and fair in the Governor's face! Now—wheeze!—rest there a moment, will you? I'll finish up these shutters—hoogh, wheeze—puff!"
She laid hold of the green slats and shook them again and again. Harder, Madam, harder, if you would get them open! Once more the Elf threw herself against the barrier, until the window shook.
"Here, Whisk, Keener!" she called. "Come to my help. And you, Lawe, creep in here and pry up that catch with your spear. All together, now!—Whoo-ooo-whooff!"
One of the shutters flew back with a loud bang, and as good hap would have it, the hasp or catch on the end thereof struck the leaf on which Lacemaker the Pixinee was nested and broke it loose from the vine. It floated off upon the wind and Madam Lacemaker was sorely tossed about upon her aerial voyage. Seeing this, a Fairy Sunbeam seized the stem of the leaf and darted off westward with it. Thereat Elf Keener plunged away after careering leaf and flying Sunbeam, and with stout puffs of his breath drove the leaf before him, Madam Lacemaker all the while tumbling back and forth, holding on to the lines of her dainty web, and ever and anon from her kneeling or half-prone posture shaking her fists, and sputtering forth her helpless wrath.
Now through the open space the sun sent in a broad sheet of golden light that fell full upon Wille's face. The Governor awoke, rubbed his eyes, grumbled at the wind, grumbled at somebody's carelessness, got out of bed and crossed the room to close the shutter. Madam Breeze threw around him the freshest and sweetest breath of the morning as he approached. He leaned out of the window to draw the truant shutter to its place. He was wide awake now. The soft sunbeams fell upon him. He drew a full breath, and sent it forth again with an "ah—aa-ah!" of hearty relish.
"Well, this is a glorious morning," he muttered. "Ah, Nature gives us our sweetest tastes of life, after all. How still it is here! A real relief from the excitement and clamor of my life." He stood and gazed quietly upon the lovely scene before him. His eyes were fixed upon the rising sun, the glowing hill top and golden zoned river. A feeling of sadness fell upon him. It deepened into regret, as he silently looked and mused. He was thinking,—and who has not so thought?—of the earlier, the purer, the happier morning of life, ere the ambitions and struggles of manhood had awakened within him to warm the heart to fever heat, and taint the freshness and purity of nobler and holier desires and aims.
"Heigho!" he sighed, as he slowly drew the shutter to its place.
He felt a light touch upon his hand. A small, thin voice, but very sweet and familiar, fell upon his ear. It was the well-known greeting of his Brownie friends.
"God speed, Brother Wille; hail and good speed!"
He looked down, and saw standing upon the window-sill Ensign Lawe and his troopers.
"Welcome, brothers hail and good speed!" he answered. There was a heartiness in his tone and genuine pleasure in his face, which made the hearts of the fairies jump for joy. It was so like the tone and look of old time!
"What do you bring me, brothers?" continued Wille. "What can I do for you, or what will you do for me?"
"Look yonder, please," said Lawe, pointing toward the lawn.
Fig. 147.—Fairy Sunbeam and Elf Keener Banishing Madam Lacemaker Beyond the River.
The Governor leaned over the window-sill and followed the direction of the Ensign's pointed spear. He started! The Pixie encampment covered the place! The dew drops on the tent-tops were glistening in the sunbeams like jewels.
Fig. 148.—A Dew-Laden Web.
"Look out of the west window, now," said Lawe. The Governor threw back the shutter and saw the same dew-laden webs and silken tents stretching in close array up toward the orchard to the very bank of the lake and inlet.
"And has it come to this, my good friends?" cried Wille. His voice trembled, and a tear started upon his cheek. "Have your old foes driven you from your homestead, and shut you out from the mansion and from me? I see, I see! Not another word! I know that it is my fault. Forgive me! I will right the wrong without delay. I will, indeed! And Dido will do her best to help me. Depend on us. When the sun has dried the dew from the grass, meet us at our old trysting place by the Rose Bush, and you shall see us scatter the Pixies, and give back the Home Lawn to my Brownie brothers. Good-bye!"
He lay down again, but could not sleep. His thoughts were too busy with the past, and too sad, in sooth, to allow rest. He aroused Dido and told her all. Like a good wife she heartily sympathized with him in his new resolves, and agreed to join him in the crusade against the Pixies.
Breakfast over, the two went out to the lawn. "Let the gardener bring up the lawn mower," said Dido.
"Not I," answered Wille. "I shall do the work myself. It is quite as little atonement as I can make for neglecting my old, true Brownie friends."
He threw off his coat, donned his wide-brimmed hat, and brought the scythe from the tool house. The hone rung merrily upon the steel as the Governor sharpened the blade. He had not forgotten his skill of earlier days, and while he was bringing the scythe to a good edge his mind followed along the path of his life to the quiet village among the green hills on the banks of Little Beaver Creek, where his boyhood had been spent.
One spot very dear to memory came into view—Aunt Fanny's farm! The good, strong face of dear old Aunt Fanny arose before him. What happy days he had spent in her quiet country home! He felt again the thrill of holiday freedom that stirred his young heart on those summer days when he set out upon the four miles' walk to the farm. In imagination once more he passed the old Factory Dam; he saw the water tumbling over its breast; he stood on the Sandy and Beaver Canal locks, and watched Sam Underwood and Ike Clunk pull up their dipnets from the bays. With what eagerness of interest did he gaze when the net was swung ashore with a silvery sucker or a pink chub swaying down the centre!
On, on, along the Elkrun Valley. There is Orr's; and there is Meldrum's; and there is Charters' farm; and there is Kimball's mill; and there is Squire Clem Crow's cooper shop; and yonder is Elkton. One mile more! The road turns here to the left, winds down the deep cleft of Pine Hollow, shady the whole summer long between its sharp ridges crowned with hemlocks, and musical with the ripple of its clear mountain run.
There is the old District School house!—and many a lusty conflict he recalls with the country lads who waged with him the traditional feud between "country haw-bucks" and "town boys." Now he climbs up the hill road; there to the right is the Crow place, and the Governor smiles as he recalls the easy boyish wit that dubbed it the "Crow's nest." At last through the trees comes the longed-for glimpse of the white house on the knoll, and Aunt Fanny sitting on the porch!
"Hurrah! she rises; she has seen me!"
Up the lane on a run now, and soon at rest before a bowl of snowy bread and fresh milk.
What days those were! full of pleasure from early rising with the sun to twilight bed-going with the birds. The wanderings in wood and orchard; the expeditions after gay field lilies, aromatic calamus and sweet myrrh; the long hunts after hens' nests in the fence corners; the walks, musings and amusings among the sheep and their frisky lambs, the cows and calves, the colts and piggies, the hens and their yellow puffy broods of muffies; the big roosters, the speckled guinea fowl,—how keen was the zest of these engagements and pursuits!
Then came the warm bright days of harvest, and the mowers came with their scythes. What fun to toss the fragrant hay! What glorious fun to see the mowers run from the stirred up bumble-bees' nest! What fun, most glorious of all, to fight the insects with wisps of new mown hay! Ah! the odor of the fresh mown meadow on dear Aunt Fanny's farm! The Governor seemed to smell it again, as fresh as on those long past harvest days, while he stood there whetting his scythe and living over in memory the scenes of his bright, pure boyhood.
He drew a deep sigh; he dropped the whetstone into his hip-pocket; he threw back the scythe, then bent down to the grass which had so long marred the lawn by its overgrowth, and swept a broad clean swath up the hillside.
"You shall not do the work alone," cried Dido, and seizing her reaping hook began to trim away the struggling tufts along the border walk.
When Ensign Lawe had received Wille's promise to break up the Pixie camp and disperse and destroy the Pixies, he straightway sent messengers to Bruce and Rodney to follow up the proposed attack. Swiftly but silently the orders went forth. Fort Home, which commanded a point of the inlet nearest the Mansion, was strongly reinforced, and the big david, "Example," manned and made ready for use. The ships were cleared for action, the crews sent to quarters, and all things made ready for weighing anchor. Never did Soldiers and Natties await the command with a more cheerful, willing and confident courage. The rescue of the Nurses had given them new life; the good news of Governor Wille's conduct lifted them all into the height of hope. The battle cry was passed: "Wille, Dido and Victory!" All was ready. All were waiting.
Now came a trooper dashing post haste into headquarters. "The Governor has prepared his scythe and is just advancing to work."
Then came a second courier: "The Governor has begun the attack; Dido joins him in it!"
A third came: "Wille is cutting a broad swath up the lawn; the Pixie tents are swept away before him, and our foes are fleeing in all directions."
Close upon this messenger came Lawe himself, spurring at topmost speed into the Brownie camp, swinging his sword around his head in high ecstasy, and crying, "Forward all! Forward at once! Fall upon the foe, and we are saved and safe forever!"
"Forward!" cried Bruce.
"Forward!" at the same moment shouted Rodney, and the signal flag flew to its place.
The ships moved out under a favoring breeze, and opened full broadsides upon the Stygian vessels. Ensign Lawe, once more at the head of his gallant troopers, led across the inlet and dashed at once upon the retreating Pixies. The footmen poured out of the gates of Fort Home and marched away to join the attack.
The Governor had now reached the bank of the inlet, and as he swung his scythe merrily, and bowed to the good work, he was greeted with three times three from forts and ships:
"Wille, Dido and Victory! Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!"
Wille paused a moment and swung his hat above his head, while Dido waved her handkerchief in recognition of the Brownie cheers. Then the Governor turned, and mowed down the lawn, throwing off at each swing of the scythe a bunch of grass mingled with the ruins of Pixie tents and huts, whose inmates lay struggling beneath the wreck of their homes, or fled to the standing grass, or burrowed and hid around the roots. The Brownies followed them up, searched them out, dispersed or slew them. It was a complete destruction and rout. In a few hours the fragrant grass lay curling in the sun, and not a Pixie tent was left upon the lawn. Spite and Heady made a strong effort to rally their soldiers, and succeeded in forming a line of battle. But the Pixies were so demoralized that the troops broke and fled before the Brownie charges. Many found hiding places in holes and dens of the earth; some escaped in the small boats of the smugglers and pirates; numbers were taken aboard the Stygian ships, and were borne down the lake, closely pursued by the Natties.
Lieutenant Heady lay dead upon the field. What had become of Spite? When we last saw him he was sitting alone upon the cliff, filled with rage and wonder at the Brownie rejoicings over the rescue of Faith and Sophia, and waiting in the moonlight for the return of the scouts whom he had sent out to get the news. Not a whisper of tidings could he hear. Bruce had ordered the Brownie pickets to keep the matter from their foes, and no breath of the good news could be gathered from them. For good and sufficient reasons Raft the smuggler had held his knowledge secret, and had kept away from Spite's presence. His yacht, the Fringe, was now anchored just under the cliff, hidden from view by the overhanging grass. Raft had heard for some time the commotion on the lawn, but gave little heed to it. It drew nearer. The singing swish of the scythe against the grass, the cheers of the Brownies and Governor Wille excited his interest. He climbed up the cliff and reconnoitered. He took in the situation at a glance, then turned his eyes toward the inlet. Thereaway the Nattie fleet was under way, and bearing down straight toward the cliff.
"It's all up with Pixiedom!" he cried, "for one good long while at least. Good-bye to the lawn! I'm off with the Fringe to safe quarters; I wouldn't lose her to save the whole nation. Every fellow for himself, and deil take the hindmost! That's good Pixie doctrine, so here's cut and away!"
He spun out a drag-line, Pixie fashion, and fastening it to a rock, thereby swung himself down the cliff to the grass at the water's edge. Thence he boarded the Fringe, set his sail, pulled up anchor, and was just about leaving the harbor, when a shower of sand and small pebbles rolled upon him. He looked up, and saw a Pixie officer lowering himself down the side of the cliff by blades of grass and ferns. The form seemed familiar; he looked more closely. Yes, it was Spite the Spy.
"Hold on,—hold!" cried Spite.
"Aye, aye!" answered Raft. "This way now—down that tall rush—so! Now swing upon the mast. There,—you're safe. All right!" He unmoored the yacht, and pushing against the cliff sent her out with one vigorous shove into clear water. The wind caught the sails, and the Fringe flew merrily over the surface of Lake Katrine. Raft now had leisure to give some attention to his chief. Spite had thrown himself upon the deck, and was fairly panting with fatigue, and livid and trembling with passion. Wrath, terror, disappointment, shame were in turn and in quick succession reflected from his face. The smuggler had little love for the chief, but he pitied him now, and in his rough way tried to comfort him.
"Better luck next time, Cap'n," he said. "We've had many a backset before, and have come out all right again. Cheer up!"
"Backset, indeed!" growled Spite. "It's annihilation! There's not enough left of Pixiedom to make a decent funeral. But—" and he rolled out a string of oaths—"I shall have such revenge as they little dream of! I'll tear the accursed Nurses limb from limb and fling the pieces into the Brownie camp! Say! what are you putting her head down the lake for?" he shouted, suddenly starting to his feet.
"That's the way of safety, Sir," answered Raft. "We must make for the outlet or Orchard Cave at once. Look there at the Natties hard upon the wake of our fleet. We must get out of their way, Sir!"
"Curse the Natties!" answered Spite fiercely; "and confound you for a coward! Put her toward Ellen's Isle, I say! I will land there if the whole Nattie fleet were following us. But they'll not bother us now; they have better game at present than the Fringe."
Raft's cheeks burned at the word "coward," and he could hardly refrain from tossing Spite overboard. But even the worst of Pixies have some reverence for a chief, and Raft was one of the best. Besides, he really pitied Spite, and was willing to allow for his bitter disappointment. He saw that he had not yet heard of the escape of the Nurses, and resolved that he would tell him now, so that he might be persuaded to give up the trip to Ellen's Isle. It was pretty hard to get started, however, with the story. Raft hemmed, stammered, and at last began:
"Cap'n, there's no use going to the island now. All's up, there, as well—"
Spite interrupted him. "No use? What is that to you? Do as you are bidden, and do not dare to question or comment upon my orders. Change her course at once, or—or—" he fairly screamed these words, and stopped suddenly in the midst of his threat, choked by passion.
Raft trembled with anger. He dropped the helm, laid hold upon a marline-spike and advanced toward the chief. Then he suddenly changed his mind, and retraced his steps.
"Very good," he answered quietly. "You shall have your own sweet way, my dear! Ellen's Isle it is!" He pressed his tiller and shifted the sail; the Fringe swung around, and in a few moments was quietly riding in one of the secluded harbors with which the smuggler was familiar, at the head of the island, and not far from the cave of Tigrina and Aranea Hall.
"Wait here until I return," said Spite leaping ashore. "I shall be back soon."
There was a strange look in Raft's eye, that caught the chief's attention, for in a moment he turned back, and shaking his clenched hand at the smuggler, said:
"If you fail me, I'll follow you to the ends of the earth and drink your heart's blood! If you prove true you shall be Admiral of the fleet. Beware!" He turned again and was soon out of sight.
"Admiral!" sneered Raft, when Spite had disappeared. "Admiral, indeed! That sounds grand, verily. But I wouldn't stand the fury of his wrath and disappointment to be the chief himself. That is, even if—" Raft shook his head, and glanced toward the cave. "However, he would have his own way, and he may find out for himself how much better it is than the one Raft advised." He pushed the Fringe out of the harbor, and spreading full sail ran rapidly toward the outlet.
Let us follow Spite. He came to the door of the cave without noting any signs of the Brownies' recent camp in the neighborhood. He found the door fastened on the outside. What could that mean?
"Curses on the old hag Tigrina," he cried, "she is out on some expedition, and has left the Nurses locked within. Well, they're safe enough under these fastenings," he muttered, as he cut away the thongs, "and I'll have the Brownie beauties all to myself. But I'll flay the vile hag alive for this disobedience. It's time that I were rid of her, at any rate."
The strong fastenings which the Brownies had put upon the door were at length removed, and Spite entered the cave. All was as still as the grave. Not a sound from the bright and busy world without fell inside those silent halls. He pushed on. The fox-fire lights had burned out. He was well used to groping in the dark, but he could scarcely make out the objects before him.
"Hello!" he called.
The echoes of his voice rolled back upon him again and again from either end of the cave. A strange sensation came over him. His heart began to quicken; a cold chill seized him. He threw off the feeling. He cursed his timidity and superstition. "On, on!" he cried. "Revenge is near." He reached the silken curtain that formed the door of the fairies' room. He drew it aside, gloating over the thought of the terror which his sudden appearance would excite. A single lantern burned upon the wall, and by its light he saw that the room was empty! Signs of confusion were everywhere. The stand lay just where it had fallen, and under it the "Wisdom of the Pixies" was outspread upon the floor.
"Faith! Sophia!" he shouted. The voice died away among the arches. There was a faint noise at his side. He turned quickly. There stood Tigrina. Her face was gaunt, her cheeks hollow, her eyes burned like balls of fire.
"Hag! fiend! wretch!" yelled Spite. "What have you done with the Nurses?" He drew his sword and took a step toward the old Pixinee.
"Oho!" said Tigrina, uttering a harsh cackling laugh. "You have come at last, have you? The pretty Nurses! Where are they? Ha, ha, ha! That is good—good! You didn't know that the Brownies had been here, hey? Didn't know that Faith and Sophia are safe in the Brownie camp, hey? Oh, no! that is very good—very! You didn't know that I had been left here sealed up in the cave—oh, no, not you!"
Spite stopped, then staggered backward as though he had been struck a violent blow. The whole truth flashed upon him. He understood now the mysterious outburst of joy in Brownie camp and fleet. Faith and Sophia were gone,—safe from his power and revenge among their own friends! Fortune had again failed him. His breast was torn by a tempest of passions. This last defeat was even worse than the loss of his camp and the rout of his army. He broke forth into wild, blasphemous reproaches of Tigrina for failing to keep the fairies in her charge. Again he lifted his sword and again he started toward the Pixinee.
There was something in the attitude of Tigrina which caused him suddenly to pause. Her eyes shone in the dim light of the cave; her sharp, long fangs swayed back and forth, touching each other with a grating sound; her back curved; she sank into a stooping posture. Spite felt her hot breath strike his face as it hissed through her clattering teeth. He knew too well what all this meant. The "blind fury" had seized the Pixinee!
Fly, Spite, fly! It is for your life!
He turns, flees! Too late! The rush of Tigrina's form is heard as she springs upon the doomed chief. Her fangs are fastened in his throat. He is borne down to the floor, and without a struggle and without a cry he yields up his life. The enraged and hungry Pixinee drank up his blood, and left the dry carcass hung against the wall by broken strands of web-work, to moulder into dust with the silken ornaments of Aranea Hall.
Summer passed. Autumn came and hung her gaily colored banners upon the trees and shrubbery of Hillside. The Brownies dwelt in peace upon the lawn, and Governor Wille and Dido held the Mansion with happier hearts than ever. The winds blew more and more keenly around the hills. The Fall had well nigh merged into Winter. Thanksgiving day came. Great preparations had been making at the Mansion, and now the family meeting was being held. Gray-haired sires, strong men and matrons, and fair-haired children, down to crowing baby Paul, all were there. How the halls rang with merry-making! What a happy, hearty company sat down to the Thanksgiving dinner!
Fig. 149.—A Dead Orbweaver Hanging by Broken Strands of Web-work.
It was a bright crisp day, and when dinner was over, all went out upon the lawn and gathered around the great Rose Bush. There was a quadruple wedding in Brownieland: Lieutenant MacWhirlie and Agatha, Adjutant Blythe and Faith, Sergeant True and Sophia, Ensign Lawe and Grace, all stood up together, and were joined in holy wedlock according to the simple rites of the Brownies. Then, amid shouts of the children, cheers of the older folk, and the wildest hurrahs of Brownie soldiers, sailors and people all, the eight happy fairies rode away, escorted by a gaily uniformed troop, to the Lone Aspen, where Madam Breeze had prepared for them a grand reception. Fairy Dew and Dewpoint were there, and the four sister Cloud Elves, and Whisk, Keener and Whirlit, and before the merrymaking ended, even Elf Frost looked in, quite happy to be once more free to roam abroad.
As the evening was fine, and the moon full, Commodore Rodney and Pipe the Boatswain arranged to give the party a reception on the Emma and a moonlight sail upon the lake. The sailors had beautifully decorated the ship; fox-fire lanterns gleamed from every part of the forts, and shone all along the shore. Our old friends Captain Ask, Help, Clearview, Mate Angel, Howard, Hope, Rise, Shine, the Twadeils and many others were aboard. The wind was fresh and the lake was a little rough, but that only made matters all the merrier. How the ship did scud along!
It was passing the Point of Ellen's Isle, when suddenly a small vessel pushed out from the brown grasses at the water's edge, crossed the wake of the Emma within a stone's throw, and stood away toward the shore.
"Sophie, Sophie!" cried Faith, "look yonder! Do you know that yacht?"
Sophia glanced a moment at the beautiful vessel as it rose and fell on the waves and sped swiftly through the moonlight.
"It is the Fringe!" she cried. "And there—see! There is Raft the Smuggler. He has raised his hat! He is waving it. Hurrah! hurrah!" Perhaps had she stopped a moment to ask whether or not such conduct were orthodox in a Brownie bride, she would not have done it, but she simply gave way to the impulse of her heart; she plucked her bridal veil from her head and, quite unconscious of what she did, waved it again and again at the fast flying yacht.
The Natties had sprung to their guns at the Fringe's appearance, prepared to pour a broadside into her; but when they saw Sophia's greeting and heard her shout, they took their cue from her, and instead of shot sent cheers after the smuggler and his pretty craft.
The Natties had sprung to their guns at the Fringe's appearance, prepared to pour a broadside into her; but when they saw Sophia's greeting and heard her shout,
they took their cue from her, and instead of shot sent cheers after the smuggler and his pretty craft.
"Poor fellow!" sighed Faith, as she leaned over the rail, and watched Raft's vessel disappear under the shadow of the shore; "poor fellow; what a pity that he should be a Pixie!"
THE END.