Maddie sat down upon a large stone that Alice called her throne, and looked eagerly up at her companion for more; for Alice’s words seemed to her like some beautiful story out of a book.
“Did you ever go into any great house, Maddie?” asked Alice.
“No, never,” said Maddie. “I passed by Mrs. Cowper’s one day, and looked in at the open door when somebody was coming out, but I couldn’t see much.”
“That’s just where I went with mother,” said Alice; “and little Mary took me into a high room, the walls
all velvet and satin and gold, so that my eyes ached for looking; and there were such heaps of pretty things on the tables and all about the place; but it didn’t make me feel glad as I do when I get out here in my grand palace with these living, breathing things around me. O Maddie, there isn’t anything on earth so beautiful as what God has made!”
“Do you stay out here always?” asked Maddie.
“Oh no,” said Alice; “that would be idle. When mother has work I stay at home to help her. I’ve learned to sew nicely now, and can save mother many a stitch. To-day’s my holiday, and I can play with you as long as you please. I’ve brought some dinner, and we’ll set a table in my dining-hall.” And she took from her pocket a little parcel, and led Maddie from the bower to a hollow
near the brook, where was a flat rock, and there she spread her frugal fare.
There were two pieces of homemade bread and a small slice of cold bacon, which she put upon leaves in the middle of the rocky table; and gathering some violets, she placed them in bunches here and there, till the table was sweet with their delicious fragrance.
Just as the children were about to help themselves to the food, there came some little tired feet over the grass; and a more forlorn figure than Maddie’s stood a few yards off, looking shyly, but wistfully, at them.