The Gold of Chickaree

by Susan Warner; Anna Bartlett Warner

CHAPTER XII.

COFFEE AND BUNS.

Wych Hazel sat watching her friend at her toilet.

'Prim,' she said, 'will you be angry?'

'Me? Angry? No. About what?'

'Because,' said Hazel, 'your dress is not looped right. And I want to alter it.'

Primrose laughed a little. 'What's the use?' she said. 'Next time it will be wrong again. I can't reach the mystery of your loopings. They are loopings, but your dress is never in a bunch anywhere only falls into place in a lovely manner. I can't be like that, Hazel.'

Hazel's busy fingers were making changes.

'There!'she said. 'Now it is a great deal more "beautiful." Do you feel demoralized?'

'Hazel!' said Prim facing round,'did you suppose I mean that? When Dane likes everything to be as beautiful, and as right, every way, as it can be? Look at his horses; and look at his own dress.'

'Ask him to look at your's,'Hazel said with a laugh, and pushing
Prim gently before her into the next room.

Breakfast was well seasoned with talk, and the talkers lingered over their meal, until Dr. Arthur declared that if the rest could stay there all day, he could not; and so broke up the sitting.

'Miss Kennedy,' he said as they left the table, 'will you come to the door a moment, before you put on your hat, and let me see your eyes?'

'See my eyes!'Hazel followed him doubtfully.

'Yes, I want to know how they look now they are open. How nearly do you feel like yourself again?' he said, in the midst of a somewhat close and earnest examination.

'I am perfectly well, thank you.'

' "Perfectly well."For instance, did you thoroughly enjoy riding on horseback yesterday?'

In spite of the evident good faith of the doctor's question, Wych Hazel's cheeks gave such instant swift answer, that he was fain to turn his eyes away.

'Not the October air,' he went on gravely, 'nor the coloured leaves, nor the sunshine; nor even the exhilaration; but the exercise. How is that, compared with a year ago?'

'I am not quite so strong for it, I think,' Hazel answered unwillingly.

'_Im_perfectly well,' said Dr. Arthur. 'And for what are you most inclined when the ride is over?'but again the tell-tale face warned him of dangerous ground.

'I have not been riding much'she said deprecatingly. 'I am all out of practice.'

'That goes for something. Always supposing that it always used to be so when you happened to be "out of practice." '

Hazel was silent.

'These guardians!' said Dr. Arthur with some emphasis. 'I cannot imagine what Mr. Falkirk was thinking of, when he kept you away all summer, letting you wear yourself out!'

'He did not keep me. I kept myself,' said Wych Hazel.

'Did you! Suppose Mr. Falkirk had kept himself here?'

Rollo came to the conference at this point. He knew the reason of his friend's care, for he had questioned him with relation to his professional curiosity the evening before. But he had a clue to Wych Hazel's three days' sleep, which Dr. Arthur could not have.

'Dr. Maryland, I thought you had more sense!' said the girl impatiently. 'The last time you saw me, you said the only thing was to let me have my own way.'

'Depends a little upon what direction the "way" takes,' said Dr.
Arthur. 'You don't want another sleep, do you?'

'Thank you,I have had one.'

'Had one!' Dr. Arthur exclaimed. 'Not like that?'

'Not precisely like that,' said Hazel demurely. 'I have had several different ones.'

Dr. Arthur laughed, and gave up his research.

'I begin to comprehend Mr. Falkirk!' he said. 'Dane, if you can brave this lady's displeasure, I wish you would see that she does not overtax herself for three months to come. Nor then, without my permission.'

'But it is miles and miles from here to Chickaree!' said Miss Wych as she ran in.

The inconvenience of having two guardians is, that when you have got rid of one you have to face the other. And that other had to be faced at the dinner table to-day. It was well that the twelve miles' ride had not taken down Hazel's strength below the mischief point. Rollo, it must be remarked, had been obliged to gallop back again after very slight tarrying.

'Good evening, Miss Hazel,' said her elder guardian as he met her in the dining room. 'I think I have not seen you since this time yesterday.'

'A little later than this, sir. It was after dinner when we parted.'

'Quite so. Why did we not meet at breakfast? I was here. You were not.'

'No, sir. That seems to have been the reason.'

'Why were you not at home?'

'Well, sir, I was in charge of my other authority, and could not get home till he said the word.'

Mr. Falkirk surveyed his ward.

'Miss Hazel, your motions are usually determined by your own will, and by nothing else,in my experience.'

'My dear sir, if you remember your experience so imperfectly, it cannot do you much good. Have I ever been allowed to go anywhere alone?'

'Why did not Rollo bring you home in proper time?'very shortly.

'First there was a man in trouble, and then a mill,' said Miss Wych, composedly pouring water from her carafe. 'And so of course such small affairs as women had to wait.'

'What was the matter?'

'The man met with an accident. The mill was set on fire. But both were cared for satisfactorilyyou need not be uneasy, Mr. Falkirk. Two such energetics as Mr. Rollo and Dr. Arthur suffice for all the common events of life.'

'And you,where were you?'

'Miss Maryland and I, sir, were summarily bestowed at Mrs.
Boërresen's for safe keeping.'

'Who is Mrs. Boërresen?'

'My dear Mr. Falkirk!if you only would stir about a little you would learn so much!' said Wych Hazel. 'Mrs. Boërresen is a quite remarkable person of foreign birth who lives near Morton Hollow.'

'Rollo's old nurse!' said Mr. Falkirk.

Wych Hazel bowed her head with extreme sedateness and went on with her dinner. Mr. Falkirk made a gesture of extreme impatience.

'It seems to me, Miss Hazel, that your other guardian had time to see you safe home, before allowing himself to be claimed by his own affairs. If you had not discretion enough to come, he should have had enough to bring you.'

'It needs valour as well as discretion to run away from one's guardians,' said Miss Kennedy lifting her brows. 'I should have been quite happy, sir, I am sure, to ride home alone.'

"Why didn't he bring you?' growled the elder guardian. 'Or why didn't you make him bring you?'

'Yes, sir. Did you ever try to make Mr. Rollo do anything?'

'Quite out of order!' grumbled Mr. Falkirk; 'quite out of order! Miss Hazel, it may need valour and discretion both, as you seem to intimate, but I must beg that you will not have the like thing happen again. If you cannot get home in proper time, I prefer that you should not ride with him. I thought the fellow knew better!'

A glance, lightning-swift, from under the dark lashes fell upon Mr. Falkirk's unconscious face. The girl waited a little before she made reply.

'How am I to know beforehand, Mr. Falkirk? Mills are uncertain things. And men. You are really sure of nothing but women in this world.'

'What do you mean about a mill burning?' came very deep out of
Mr. Falkirk's throat.

'Some of the Charteris men set it on fire. The mill was not burned, because watch had been kept; and at the first sign of fire all hands went to work taking out cotton bales till the fire was reached. There was something of a bonfire outside.'

'Hm. How much loss?'

'Not much. A thousand or two.'

Mr. Falkirk went no further into the subject, or into any other, till the dessert had been taken away and he was fingering the nuts. Mr. Falkirk took no dessert. And in the midst of cracking a hard nut, effort availed to crack something else.

'Do we go to town this winter, Miss Hazel?'

'I have taken no thought whatever about the winter, sir.'

'Do you intend to stay here?'

'I thought we agreed, sir, to let the winter question wait?'

'I made no such agreement, Miss Hazel. On the contrary, if we let the question wait, there will be no house to receive you when you make up your mind to go.'

'Then we will wait.'

'No, Miss Hazel, if you please I will have your decision. If it makes no difference to you, it makes some to me. Either here or New Yorkbut you must say which.'

'O if you put me in a corner, Mr. Falkirk, I shall stay here,' said
Wych Hazel.

'I suppose so. And now, Miss Hazel, will you kindly go a little further and give me your reasons?'

'My dear Mr. Falkirk, you know we agreed long ago, that between you and me reasons should be left to take care of themselves. Do let the winter question rest!'

'I thought we agreed long ago that between you and me there should be confidence,' said her guardian somewhat bitterly.

Now Mr. Falkirk was unreasonable, but it is not in the nature of men to know when they are unreasonable. So making a great and ill-adjusted effort with his nut-cracker, it slipped and did Mr. Falkirk's finger some harm, instead of the nut. Mr. Falkirk dipped his finger into cold water, wrapped it in his handkerchief, and went off, disgusted with the world generally.

'We never did!' thought Hazel to herself. 'I plainly told him it could not be.' But for all that she felt just a little bit troubled and hurt.

Four days of storms, during which Mr. Falkirk passed himself off for sugar and salt, and even Mr. Rollo was somewhat hindered of his pleasure, ended at last in a brilliant Saturday afternoon. But though Wych Hazel did send some wistful glances out of the window, she knew perfectly well there could be no coming from Morton Hollow that night. Still, the feminine mind is good at devices; and Miss Kennedy was not the first girl who (for the nonce) has enacted the part of Mahomet. The mountain could not stir,therefore

She thought it all out, sitting opposite to Mr. Falkirk at dinner; and when that gentleman had taken his departure, the young mistress of the house fell into a sudden state of activity; her last move being to smother herself in a huge dingy cloak, akin to those worn by the mill people in their improved condition.

'Look at me, Byo,' she said, pulling the rough hood up over her silky curls.

'My dear,' began Mrs. Bywank,'Miss Wych,if Mr. Rollo should see you!'

'He would see nothing but my cloak.'

'My dear, I'm not so sure. He has wonderful sharp eyes. And you don't wear your cloak like a mill girl.'

'Don't I look like a new hand?' said Hazel laughing.

'And if he should find out, what would he think!' said Mrs.
Bywank.

'He would think you had a cold and couldn't come,' said Wych.
'There's the gig!'and down she ran, slipping out unseen to join
Reo in the darkness.

Riding in an old gig was rather a new experience. The way was still, starlight, and lonely, until they came out into the neighbourhood of the mills. When the lights were visible, and a certain confused buzz of still distant voices gave token of the lively state of the population in the Hollow, Hazel and her faithful attendant left the gig and went forward on foot.

The Charteris mills were silent and dark; the stir was ahead, where a cluster of lights shewed brilliantly through the darkness; and soon Wych Hazel and Reo found themselves in the midst of a moving throng. A large shed, it was hardly better, open to the street and to all comers, was the place of illumination, and the centre of savoury odours which diffused themselves refreshingly over the whole neighbourhood. Coffee, yes certainly Mr. Rollo's coffee and hot buns were on hand there; and truly they began to be on hand more literally among the crowd. Wych Hazel loitered and looked and kept herself out of the lamp shine as well as she could. Men and women were going in and coming out, eating and drinking, talking and jesting; there was a pleasant let-up to business in the Hollow; it looked like a fair, except that there was no buying and selling other than the viands. There were long deal tables in the shed, besieged by the applicants for buns and coffee, and served by women stationed behind the tables. The crowd was orderly, though very lively. Reo's curiosity and admiration were immense; I think he would have tried the buns for himself, if he had not been in close attendance upon his mistress. Women came out from the shed guarding a pile of the hot buns in their hands; others stood by the tables taking their supper; men came out and lounged about talking and eating, with a mug in one hand and a bun in the other. To anybody that knew Morton Hollow it was a pleasant sight. It spoke of a pause from grinding care and imbruting toil; a gleam of hope in the work-a-day routine. The men were all more or less washed and brushed up; for changing their dress there had been no time.

Hazel was afraid to linger too long or scan too closely; she passed on to the mill with the throng, waited near the door until the reader went in, passing so close that Hazel could have touched him. Then she followed and took her place at the end of a form near the door. That was policy.

The reading room was the huge bare apartment where the fire had been laid, and tracked, a few nights before. The rafters still shewed some smoke, and there was a less number of bales piled up at the end of the room than when Hazel had seen it the first time. Lamps hung now from the beams overhead, enough of them to give a fair illumination; for as Rollo explained to her afterwards, he wanted to have a view of his hearers. Their view of him was secured by a well arranged group of burners in that quarter. The audience room was as rough as the audience.

It was a strange experience for the little lady of Chickaree. In the midst of all that crowd of mill hands, with their coarse dresses and unkempt heads and head gear, she was in a part of the world very far from her own. A still, respectful crowd they were, however. Looking beyond and over them, to the circle of lights at the end of the cotton bales, she could just see Dane's head, where he was standing and speaking to some one; then presently he mounted upon his rude rostrum and the light illumined his whole figure.

'He ain't keerful about shewin' hisself,'said a drawling native voice in Wych Hazel's neighbourhood. 'Hain't no objection to folks' reck'nin' his inches.'

'He's baulder'n I'd loike to be' said another voice, Wych Hazel could not guess of what nationality.

'A can bear it,' answered a woman. 'I'd loike to see you a standin' up for your picter, Jim!'

'He don't mind!' said a brisk lass. 'You bet, he knows all about it.
Don't he, though!'

'Is he a married mon?'

'Na, he's got nobody to look arter him.'

'He don't mind that, ayther.'

'He's mighty onconsarned, anyhow,' said the first speaker. 'Lawk, I never could be a orator.'

'Don't, then,' said the girl. 'You hush, or he'll hear.'

Rollo did them justice, as far as not minding anything went. His first action after taking his stand, was to fold his arms and take a somewhat prolonged survey of the company. The quick gray eyes came everywhere; did they know Hazel? It appeared not; for after a few minutes of this silent survey, Rollo bade his audience 'good evening' and began his work.

He gave them in the first place the principal items of the week's news out of several papers which he had at hand. This, it was plain, was an extremely popular part of the entertainment. He read and talked, explaining where it was necessary, sometimes responding to a question from some one in the crowd. The papers were both English and German, American and foreign; the bits of intelligence carefully chosen to interest and to stimulate interest. This part of the programme took up something over a half hour. The next thing was the story if the "Chimes." And here also the reading was exceedingly successful. Knowing his hearers more thoroughly than is the privilege of most readers, Rollo could give them a word of help just where it was necessary to make them understand the author; briefly, and only as it was needed; for the rest, he made the story speak to their hearts. Perhaps the simplicity of his aim, which had no regard whatever to his own prominence in the performance, gave him an advantage over most people who read in public; perhaps Rollo was uncommonly gifted; but Wych Hazel certainly thought, when she had time to think about it, that it was no wonder Miss Powder or anybody else should make parties to come and hear him, and rather wondered the whole countryside were not there. And as for the rough audience who were present, they were entranced. They forgot themselves. They forgot everything in the world but Tiny Tim and his father and all the humble experiences of the family; and tears and laughter alternately testified to what a degree the reader had them all in his hand. Hazel for her part laughed and cried when the rest did,and when they did not.

Just as this part of the reading was finished, there came a slight disturbance down near the door; but all that appeared to the reader was that one of the mill girls got up and went out.

'Where's the master?' a small frightened child had said, peering in.
'I wants him.'

'Well you can't have him,' answered the rough cloak imperiously.
'Don't you see he's busy?'

Whereupon the small girl lifted up her voice in lamentation, and was instantly smothered in the cloak and swept out of the mill; neither one appearing on those boards again that night. But the reading went on, and the hours too; and it was eleven o'clock, all told, before the audience were dismissed. Coming out at last into the starlight darkness, Mr. Rollo ran full up against Dr. Arthur Maryland.

'Arthur!What now?'

'Dane, you can tell meWhere is the Patrick who has no wife?
I've been to six and they're all happy men.'

'Patrick? who has lost his wife? It is Rafferty. What do you want him for?'

'Something the matter there.'

'What?Come, I'll shew you the way. What is it?'

'A child hurt. The father away drinking, the young ones at home fighting,as near as I can make it out. This one got a fall.'

Rollo had used his voice a good deal that evening, namely, for two and a half consecutive hours. He said scarcely a word more until they got to the house in question; but as he went he thought what he would do with the gin shops whenever he should get control in the Hollow. The cabin of the wifeless Patrick was high up the valley and high up on the bank, a short way after all. A little stream of light came out to meet them from the open door; and once in line with this, Dr. Arthur stopped short with a suppressed exclamation, and Rollo looked up.

The door had probably been left open of intent for air; for on some low seat in the middle of the floor sat Wych Hazel, still muffled partly in the cloak, which she had not taken time to throw off. The hood had fallen back, and the cloak fell away on either side from her silken folds and white laces; Hazel's attention was wholly absorbed by the child on her lap. A little tattered figure lay with its head on the young lady's breast; while both Wych Hazel's hands, the one passed round the child as well as the other, were clasped tight around one little arm. So they sat, quite still,the child's eyes upon her face; while a small circle of great admiration stood around; fingers in mouth, hands behind back, wholly absorbed in the vision or spell-bound with the voice. For she was softly singing.

'You'll never be in Adam's case of destitution,that's one thing!' was Dr. Arthur's comment, as his friend sprang past him into the cabin. Then however, like a wise man, postponing other things to business, Rollo only demanded calmly what the matter was? Hazel had not expected him, and there was a look of surprise and a minute's flush; then her thoughts too went back to business.

'I think her arm is broken. I have been holding it in place.'

'And she let you?' queried Dr. Arthur.

'I would do it. She is more quiet now.'

'Sixteen carats fine!' said Dr. Arthur. 'Half the women I know would have dropped the arm the moment they saw me, and nine- tenths of the others would not have touched it at all! Now let me see.'

But first a change was made. Rollo took the child into his own arms. It was done too swiftly and skilfully for the poor little creature to make any objection, but its dismay and displeasure were immediately proclaimed. The new hands that held it were however both kind and strong, and the master's voice was already known, even by these little ones. So the worst was soon over, thanks to the firmness that had kept the arm quiet till the doctor came. It was true; she "had the fight in her," as Dane had once said; though now the woman was taking her revenge, and Hazel sat behind the others with blanched cheeks. Dr. Arthur glanced at her once or twice.

' "Ever so far away to Chickaree"!' he said,'I should think it was!
Dane, can you find a substitute to watch this child to-night?'

'I'll see to that,' said his friend briefly; and laying the child out of his arms as soon as its arm was made secure, he went to Wych Hazel, pulled her hood on again, and drawing her hand through his arm took her out of the cabin. Then asked her 'how she expected to get home?'

'O Reo is here, somewhere.'

'With the carriage?"

'With an incognito gig.'

Rollo put her into a chair, stationed Dr. Arthur to keep ward over her, and went to look for Reo. It seems that in the interest of the reading Reo had missed the episode of his mistress's leaving the assembly room, and had thereafter been wholly without a clue by which to seek her. Near the mill Rollo found him, and presently brought up the gig to Patrick Rafferty's cottage. Unsuspiciously Wych Hazel allowed herself to be put into it. Then, standing with the reins in his hand, Dane spoke to the doctor.

'It is late, Arthur; come up to my house and I'll take care of you.
Reo, take the road straight up to Mrs. Boërresen's.'

With which he jumped into the gig and put the horse in motion; with such good will that before Dr. Arthur could get to the foot of the hill the gig had climbed to Gyda's door, and Rollo had lifted Wych Hazel out.

'But I did not mean to come here!' she said dismayfully. 'I was thinking of something else! Mr. Rollowhat made you do so?'

'The obvious necessity of the case.'

'But I must go home.'

'To-morrow.'

He staid no further question. He opened the gate and led the little lady across the few steps to the door.

'Gyda,' said he as they went in, 'let us have some coffee and anything else that can be had quickly. Three people wanting it.' And with that he went into the next room for the cushions.

'I shall stand for an upholsterer one of these days,' he remarked, as he arranged and prepared Wych Hazel's easy chair. 'There! Now!'

He unfastened and threw off the rough cloak, much as if he did not like it; took Wych Hazel's hands and put her in her place.

'What have you got to say to me?' he queried softly.

Hazel felt extremely shy and discomposed at the course things had taken. It had been no part of her plan to have her escapade known to any but the old servants at home; and here she was, not only discovered but carried off,and that with Mr. Falkirk's strictures still sounding in her ears. Yet her first words went to another point.

'You should not touch me,' she said with a gentle little push,'I have not washed my face. And you know I had to use every means I could think of to quiet the child.'

Hazel shivered a little, thinking what the screams had been at first when she took the case in hand. Dane's eyes laughed and sparkled, but he only disregarded her admonitions, and remarked that she 'did not answer him?'

'Mr. Rollo, I must go home. Mr. Falkirk will be so vexed.'

'What else have you got to say me?'

'What do you want to hear about?' said Hazel demurely. 'I liked the reading very much,all that I heard of it. And the people seemed to like you.'

'Did you think I would not find you out?'

'And you did not!' she said triumphantly.

'I should have found you out in another half hour. I saw you, and you bothered me very much, but the lights were in my eyes. Did you hope I would not see you, Hazel?'

She laughed gaily. 'Of course I hoped that! How did I "bother" you, please?'

'Something I did not understand. Gyda, won't you take Miss
Kennedy where she can wash her face?'

Gyda led the way to her kitchen, a little detached building connected with the house by a covered way. It was warm and light with fire and full of savoury odours from the cookery going on. Here the young lady was supplied with a bowl of water and a napkin, and Hazel came back very much refreshed.

It was now half-past twelve o'clock and more. Dr. Arthur was come, and there were preparations on foot for supper. Reo had come to, and was sent to Gyda's little kitchen to get some refreshment, while the others supped.

'Now,' said Rollo, as he gave Wych Hazel some porridge and filled her cup, 'you may begin and give an account of yourself.'

'Autocratic,' said Hazel. 'I am no longer a mill girl, Mr. Rollo.'

'You came into my dominions with my livery. There's no help for you now.'

'Well,'said Hazel,'the only drawback to the pleasure of my drive over from Chickaree, was the state of mind in which I had left Mrs. Bywank.'

'Well?' said Rollo, proceeding to take care of the doctor's cup. 'Go on. Arthur and I are very curious.'

'After that, I wanted a bun, and saw no invitation to strangers.'

'You were there, were you! Isn't it a good institution?'

'Veryfor people who are not strangers. Reo and I devoured things with our eyes for some time. Then I When the reading began, I was in my place.'

'I should say, you were in somebody else's place. Never mind! If it was not so late, I'd send down and get a bun for you.'

'What came in between the "Then" and the "When"?' said Dr.
Arthur. 'If one may inquire. Mere blank space?'

'Not quite,' said Hazel laughing and colouring. 'Just private, scientific business. I was testing theories.'

'We are both interested in that, the doctor and I,' said Dane.
'Theories, and scientific business. Pray explain, Hazel.'

'I once heard a short lecture on magnetism,' said Miss Wych, all grave except the gleam in her eyes; 'and it occurred to me to put it to the proof. So I stood by the door and saw the people go in.'

Dr. Arthur laughed, but asked no further questions.

'Your true lovers of science are always ready to venture a good deal in the pursuit of it,' observed Dane drily.

Wych Hazel's lips curled with mischief.

'When I got in,' she said, 'before the reading, I heard a good deal about the reader. Most of it striking, and some of it new.'

'That at least all may hear,' remarked Dr. Arthur. 'Science may have its reserves; but public news about Dane!'

'It's very old indeed,' said the person concerned. 'Only new to this witness. May be safely passed over.'

If Mr. Rollo was good at reading faces, he might see that remarks about him were considered quite too much her own personal property to be repeated to anybody in the world but himself. Wych Hazel sat silent, stirring her coffee.

'We are ready to hear the rest,' he remarked with a smile. 'Go on to the broken arm. How did you get hold of that?'

'One of the children came for you. And somebody had to go,' she answered simply.

'And "somebody" had to keep the broken arm in place, I suppose. But how came you to think of doing that?' said Rollo, who all the while was looking after the comfort of his two guests in his own fashion of quick-eyed ministry.

'I did not, till I had the child in my lap,' said Hazel; 'and then I remembered all of a sudden something in one of my old Edgeworth story books. So I tried, and succeeded.'

'I wish every one read story books to as good purpose,' said Dr. Arthur. 'There is no describing from what you saved the child. But at first I suppose she made great resistance?'

'Very great.'Hazel did not want to enlarge upon that part of the subject. And here Reo entered.

'Ha, Reo! are you made up for your journey already?' said Rollo. 'You can report to Mrs. Bywank that Miss Wych was too much fatigued to take the drive home; and bring the carriage over in the morning.'

Wych Hazel looked up, but her courage failed her for a protest.
She was obliged to let the order stand.

The fire was bright, the coffee was excellent, the little party so oddly thrown together were happy in mutual confidence and sympathy. Such hours are not too common, and a certain kindly recognition of this one sat upon every face. Gyda was busy preparing a room for Miss Kennedy and had not joined them.

'How does the work of the world look to you, Arthur, from this corner?' said Dane, when they had subsided a little from supper to the consideration of each other.

'Every spot of true Christian work is a centre,' said his friend. 'The "corners" are for darknessnot light. Work is the most enticing thing in the world to me, Dane!'

'Gyda's fireside was the corner I meant,it's not dark just now! and I was thinking, that from this nook of quiet the work looks easy. So it is! It is a hand to hand and foot to foot battle; but it is easy to follow the captain that one loves.'

'I don't know that it is always easy,' said Dr. Arthur; 'but it can be done. Once in a while, you know, we are sent to carry a redoubt with only his orders before us. The Lord himself seems to be in quite another part of the field.'

'That is, to those who do not know.'

'Of course. I speak only of the seeming. But I like the fight, and I like the struggle. I like to measure battlements and prepare my scaling ladders, and lead a forlorn hope. It suits me, I believe.'

'Battlements?' Hazel repeated. 'Do you mean heights of difficulty?'

'Guarded by depths of sin,' said Dr. Arthur.

Hazel looked from one to the other. Yes, she could like that too, if she were a man. How much could she do, being a woman?

'And that is all seeming too, Arthur,' his friend went on. 'Really, the fighter need never be out of that "feste Burg." I was thinking just now, not only that work looks easy, but that it looks small. Individual effort, I mean; the utmost that any one man can do. It is a mere speck. The living waters that shall be "a river to swim in," are very shallow yet; and where the fishers are to stand and cast their nets, it is a waste of barrenness. You have never been on the shores of the Dead Sea, Arthur; you do not know how a little thread of green on the mountain side shews where a spring of sweet water runs down through the waste.'

'What then, Mr. Rollo?' said Wych Hazel.

'It is such a tiny thread of life upon the universal brown death.'

'Is that what the world looks like to you?' said Hazel, wondering.

'And the work is even far smaller than that, if you look at it in its minute details. Did you ever read the life of Agnes Jones, Arthur?'

'Yes.'

'Prim lent me the book; and I found a good word in it the other day. The writer says, I cannot give you the exact words,"If we do every little thing that comes to us, God may out of our many littles make a great whole." Therein lies the very truth of our work. It is so in Morton Hollow. Not building schoolhouses or making villages; anybody can do that; it is the word of interest to one, the word of sympathy to another; the holding a broken arm; giving help and refreshment in individual cases. Love, in short, like the sun, working softly and everywhere. As those threads of green on the mountain side are made up of multitudinous tiny leaves and mosses, nourished by countless invisible drops of spray.'

'Working in all sorts of ways'said the Doctor; while Hazel sat thinking of the green that was beginning to line the banks of Morton Hollow. 'You may notice that a real spring goes literally wherever it can. Men may wall it in with stone channels, or force it into the air; but let it alone, it follows every possible opening. The deep main stream, and the little side rills, and the single drops that go each to a single leaf.'

Rollo looked up and smiled. 'There is Gyda coming to fetch you,
Hazel.'

'Well,' said Hazel. 'And you will go on talking all sorts of things that I ought to hear.'

She rose up and stood looking down into the fire. The other two rose also and stood looking at her. It was a pretty picture. Gyda, a little apart, watched them all with her little bright eyes.

'But,' Hazel began again,'to do that,for every little drop to do thatthere must be a head of water. It is not the mere trickling down of something which happens to be at the top!'Whereupon the little fingers took an extra knot.

'Each drop may do the ministry of one, may it not?' said Rollo. 'You need not count the drops. The only thing is that they be living water.'

'Yes, the living water comes with a will. I remember,in Mme. Lasalle's brook,how busy the drops were. Not in a hurry, but in such sweet haste.'

'True!' said Dr. Arthur. 'Each with a clear bright purpose, if not a plan.'

'Perhaps, best not the plan,' said Rollo.

She stood gravely thinking for a moment, then looked up and shook hands with Dr. Arthur, wishing him good night. But no words came when she gave her hand to Mr. Rollo; onlyperhaps in default of wordsa beautiful, vivid blush.

The room to which the old Norsewoman conducted her was a very plain little place, with whitewashed walls and the simplest of furniture. Gyda manifested some concern lest her guest should suffer for want of a fire. 'But the gentlemen had to have the other room,' she said.

'O the fire is no matter,' said Hazel. 'But where do you sleepwith such a houseful?'

'I have my little nest just by, my lady. I'd be glad to keep it! And yet this is a strange place for my lad to have his home; and it's been his home now for a year, nearly. How much longer will I keep him, my lady?'

Gyda asked the most tremendous questions with a sort of privileged simplicity; she looked now for her answer.

'Keep him?'Hazel repeated the words in a maze.

'Yes, my lady. I know I must lose my lad from this home; but when is it to be?'

'A great whileI don't know,nobody knows,' said Hazel very much disturbed. 'Nobody thinks anything about it yet. So you need not even recollect it, Mrs. Boërresen.'

Gyda looked at her with a tender, incredulous, pleased smile upon her face. 'Do you think he will wait a great while, my lady?' she said. And then she came up and kissed Wych Hazel's hand, and went away.