How fresh and bright and green everything appeared! Every blade of grass was spangled with dew, which the sun, just rising gloriously over the far eastern treetops, was eagerly drinking for his morning draught. It reminded me of Cleopatra—only the sun was drinking diamonds instead of pearls! And how sweet the air was, breathing gently over the orchard, as though loth to leave the scent of the apple-blossoms!
I crossed the lawn and made a little tour of the garden and orchard, discovering a hundred beauties which had escaped me the afternoon before. I found a hedge of lilacs which was just putting forth its first green leaves, and a moment’s inspection showed me that nearly every one of the pretty clusters sheltered a bud. What a gorgeous thing that hedge would be in a few weeks—but perhaps I should never see it! The thought sobered me for an instant; but nothing could long cast a shadow over a morning so glorious, and the cloud soon passed.
Then a bustle of life near the barn attracted me, and I found Abner and Jane busily engaged in milking two cows before turning them out to pasture. They gave me a pleasant good-morning, and I stood for a time watching the milk foaming into the pails.
“Would you like a drink, miss?” asked Jane, and when I nodded a delighted assent, handed me up a foaming tin cup full. How good it tasted, and how sweet it smelled! One would fancy it the nectar of the gods!
“Thank you,” I said, as I handed it back to her. “Some day you must teach me how to milk,” I added. “It must be very difficult.”
“Oh, no, miss,” said Jane, smiling; “there’s jest a knack about it—a kind o’ turn o’ the wrist. I’ll be glad t’ show you whenever you like.”
But I didn’t want to be shown then—there were too many other things to do. I started away on a little tour of discovery, and was surprised to find how large and well-kept the barn, stable, and other out-buildings were. It was here, evidently, that Abner had concentrated such energy as advancing age had left him. I didn’t know then, but I found out afterwards, that the especial pride of every true farmer is his barn and stable, just as the especial pride of every good housewife is her kitchen. And Jane and Abner certainly had reason to be proud of theirs.
Two horses were standing sedately in the stable-yard, their heads over the gate. Behind this was a hen-house, with a large yard surrounded by wire-fencing, and already the cackling from the house indicated that the day’s work had begun. I decided that I would make the chickens my especial care if—
There was always that “if,” everywhere I turned; and I am afraid it did finally succeed in taking some of the brightness out of the sky for me, as I turned back toward the house. Of course, as mother had pointed out, we had no claim on grandaunt; and yet she herself had said that blood is thicker than water and that we were her only relatives. Perhaps we hadn’t treated her as nicely as we might have done; perhaps we had been a little thoughtless, a little too self-centred; but how is one to live with a dragon? And, surely, whatever our faults, we seemed by way of paying dearly enough for them! Was I getting mercenary, I asked myself; was I getting covetous? Was I going to regret that decision that mother had made eight years before? Was the legacy going to prove a curse, instead of a blessing?
The question troubled me for a moment; but I did not have time to find an answer to it, for, as I turned the corner of the house, I saw Dick strolling along one of the paths of the garden.