How Annie Laurie did want dear old Haystack Thompson to play at the little dance after the wedding! But he is not to be found. Never since he ran away from good little Mrs. Kitchell has he been seen or heard of. But I can’t believe that any harm has come to him. He is off in some other part of his beloved mountains, fiddling for new friends. I miss him terribly. Don’t think me egotistical, but I do wonder if he would return if he knew that I was back here. He always loved me quite out of proportion to my deserts. It was because he helped to find me that time I was kidnapped, I think, and because I was such a queer, unlucky little girl and needed him so much. But whatever the reason, we are great friends, and I can not think of anything that would give me greater pleasure than to see him loping down the mountain-side, with his fiddle under his arm, and his hair all in a shock, like a windblown haystack.
I had no time to prepare a fit present for Annie Laurie, the announcement of her wedding was so unexpected. So now I am weaving a counterpane for her of blue, orange and white in the wheel and star pattern. It is going to be beautiful, and will bring color into her room, which always has been too austere. Carin has ordered a beautiful rug from New York, which will have the same colors in it. And Mrs. Carson will give the hangings of blue for the windows. So we shall have a charming room for her by the time she returns. The truth is, Annie Laurie never pays any attention to herself or to the things which she alone uses, beyond keeping everything spotlessly clean and in order after the immemorial fashion of the Paces.
But she deserves a beautiful bedroom, and she shall have it.
I am so busy in the shop during the day that I have to weave the counterpane at night. I might have someone else do it, only I prefer to do it with my own hands. Anyway, I have to economize a bit. Not that I mind. Which reminds me that the first installment of the annuity dear grandmother provided for me, arrived safely. Enclosed please find receipt. Mr. Carson is paying me a nice little salary for my work at the Industries. So I am well provided for, as you see. But I want to be a bit saving, because now, indeed, Azalea is out for herself, and she does not want to have to fall back on anybody.
I am sorry Uncle David does not write me. He isn’t vexed with me, is he? Oh, I know he is disappointed. I know I seem to him not to have done the right or the grateful thing. But try to make him understand that I love him. I had to go my own way, that is all. And I am justified; I feel that in my heart. I enjoy each moment as it comes, and I continually feel that something yet more glorious is about to happen.
With devotion,
Azalea.
CHAPTER XV
“RING, HAPPY BELLS”
The Shoals, December 26.
My dear, dear Uncle and Aunt: