"The bright sun was warm on this particular spring morning although the frost had not yet departed from some of the deep mountain glens. The old Inn-keeper called the two children from their play in the village street and bade them hasten away over the river to search for pennyroyal. He did not forget to threaten them with an angry frown before they left, as he loudly vowed that he expected to spend a bad night with the asthma, and solemnly declared that, should they return without a goodly supply of pennyroyal, he would whip them both soundly, deny them their suppers and make them sleep without covers on the floor of the attic,—a place that swarmed with both rats and mice.
"With this terrible threat still ringing in their ears, the two children hastened away toward the river and with much fear in their hearts started across the long foot-bridge toward the mountains.
"Arthur, the boy, was eleven years old, while his little sister Maud, a beautiful but shy little thing, had hardly turned nine. They journeyed along hand in hand and when midway the stream, they looked back just as the old Inn-keeper entered the Inn, then paused for a moment to glance over the wide flowing stream and look down into its clear waters for bass,—which, I might add, was their principal sport on a hot summer day.
"Far up the tide, a fish-hawk sailed silently round and round over the foamy water, searching the more shallow places with a keen, piercing eye, and looking no doubt for its dinner. A long-necked blue heron, awakened by the loud, clattering footsteps and shouting voices of the two children, arose from beneath a dark tangle of water-elms that grew near the farther end of the foot-bridge, and, with lazy wings, and dragging its slim legs over the water as if it were too much trouble to lift them up under its body, it went on up the edge of the stream and disappeared from sight along the dark shore. High over all and circling with mysterious ease, a bald eagle held stately repose in the sky.
"'Come, Maudie,' exclaimed little Arthur at last. 'Let us make haste, for the journey may be tiresome and long.' And hand in hand they hastened across the bridge.
"As they came to the edge of the woods they began their search for pennyroyal. This herb was not plentiful so early in the spring and the side of the mountain was steep and rough.
"Bright, fancy-formed ferns were growing here and there from beneath the edge of the big rocks, and johnny-jump-ups were lifting their tiny blue heads aloft to the fresh morning breeze, wherever an occasional dead tree allowed the rays of the sun to fall unshadowed upon the rich soil below. All through the woodland they noticed the poison-oak vine, as it slowly began its long summer climb up the trunks of the stately oak trees.
"'Alas!' thought the two children as they journeyed along, 'there is no pennyroyal.'
"Then looking up with affright at the sound of a familiar voice, they were greatly surprised, for there stood 'Aunt Twaddles' before them.
"At once the object of their journey was forgotten and they buried their grief for a time as the kind-hearted old lady drew forth a handful of her sweet candy, and all three sank upon a green, moss-covered mound for a rest and a feast and a chat.