To Mrs. Prior, both Jube and his little master were objects of peculiar interest. Paul was eloquent in his own language, and through its medium he conveyed many pleasant fancies to the mind of Rose, and thus, all in play, brought her through the first practice of a study her mother had greatly at heart.
As the winter snows melted, and the sweet spring days came on, it was pleasant to see Jube seated with the children—at heart, almost as much of a child as either of them—beneath a huge apple tree that stood in the meadow, and covered one of the most lovely strawberry slopes in the world with its shadow.
As the bright days came on, the favor of instruction was not altogether on one side. Rose had her own little accomplishments, which she taught in shy triumph in exchange for the sweet language and pretty names bestowed on her. She taught Paul how to curl dandelion stems into innumerable ringlets, and made an astonishing halter of daisy chains for Jube, that was not the less perfect because it broke into a shower of white blossoms at the first hard pull, and littered the grass like a snow-storm. Then she could braid rushes seven strands at a time, and weave them into such pretty green baskets that Mrs. Prior considered them the pet ornaments of her parlor.
Besides these accomplishments, Rose had a delicious voice, and sung snatches of music at her work. These wild strains so excited the robins in the apple tree boughs that they forgot nest-building and love-making, to join in a chorus that rang all over the meadow, bringing other birds to see what it was all about, who liked the premises, and built their nests also among the sweet blossoms and leaves of dainty green, till the old tree was a marvel for its feathered population.
I am afraid Rose sometimes followed Paul up into the apple tree, taking shy peeps at the pretty blue eggs which he exposed by sweeping the soft leaves back from the nest with his hands. Once or twice Mrs. Prior found her in a corner of the garret, making desperate efforts to darn a long rent in her dress, and crying bitterly because the cloth would draw into knots and gathers under her hand, more conspicuous than the original tear had been, which must have strengthened this suspicion about the apple tree very much.
Of course the good lady remedied this evil with her own deft little fingers, and Mrs. Mason was too busy with other things just then to heed torn frocks or the shamefacedness which on ordinary occasions would have betrayed them.
Thus time wore on, till Mrs. Mason had become a dashing performer on the piano, for she practiced day and night on the accomplishments that she willed to master, and in every thing made up for deficiencies by audacious self-possession. Thus, while Rose and the birds were singing out of doors, she sent a storm of music through the open windows, which were just far enough from the apple tree to excite the birds without frightening them to death.
CHAPTER XLVII.
A CHILDISH CONSULTATION.
The life which these children and their companion led at Bays Hollow was quiet and peaceful, especially to those strange beings, after the privations and bitter troubles through which they had passed. The mournful look that had seemed natural to Paul, went out from his eyes, which grew soft or bright with changing feelings, but the haggard anguish which had made their glance so painfully sad, never came back to them. As for Jube, he was like a Newfoundland dog—full of courage, strength, and cheerfulness.