Many times he paused while writing, and with his head resting upon his hand, he seemed to be thinking how best to express himself, so that his message might find favor with his old friend and playmate.
At last, apparently, the letter was completed satisfactorily; for as the old man arose from the table, a faint smile flitted across his face.
Crossing the room to the old chest by the window, he fumbled about until he brought from its depths a little package; then, walking to the table, he placed the tiny parcel between the folded pages of the letter, put the letter into its envelope, and with utmost care addressed it, reading the address over three times to make sure that it was correct. Under his pillow he placed the letter, saying, “With the light o’ day I’ll start ye on the journey.” And of all the merry party who laughed and sang away the hours at the apple-bee, not one possessed a happier heart than Sandy.
And Helen murmured, softly, as she lay half awake and half asleep, “Every one was happy to-night.”
CHAPTER XI—AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
The sun rose in golden splendor one morning to find that a curtain of purple haze prevented his sunship from showing all his dazzling glory.
It was indeed a typical October morning in New England. For a time the haze prevailed, holding her own bravely against the sun, who struggled for supremacy; but at last he rose triumphant, the mist softly melting away beneath his warm rays.
How fair and tall the slender birches looked as the bright rays gilded their white trunks! How cool and deep the little pool which reflected the birches and brakes which overhung its edge; and far away across the field a great black crow flew, cawing as he winged his way, then perched upon a slender twig which swayed beneath his weight. Tiny sparrows twittered and chirped as they hopped about among the dried weeds, searching among the seed vessels for a possible breakfast.
Truly, all things were beautiful that morning; and Randy, from her chamber window, looked out upon the lovely scene, and on her face a smile and tear appeared,—a smile on the sweet lips in memory of the summer’s pleasure; a tear at the thought of Helen’s departure.
“It has been the nicest summer I have ever known,” mused Randy, softly. “Everything has looked prettier since she taught me how to look at things. How sweetly she thanked me for the rose I cut for her without spilling one of the dewdrops. ’Twas only a little thing, yet she thanked me as if the dewdrops were diamonds. Why, she just made me wild to find something to give to every one, if giving made such pleasure. I remember that I said I often wished I had more to give, and she showed me, oh, so plainly, that a smile or a pleasant word was worth the giving that I felt at once as if I were rich; for any one can say a pleasant word and all of us can smile. Oh, she’s done us ‘a world of good,’ as the parson’s wife said.”