Little Friend Lydia

by Ethel Calvert Phillips

Maggie Medicine trotted bravely up the road and under the big oak trees that made the driveway at Robin Hill such a shady and comfortable place to play. There were no children in sight, but Miss Martin was watching for them on the broad veranda, and she came forward to help them out of the cart.

“So this is Roger,” said she, smiling and holding out her arms to the forlorn child, who willingly crept into their comfortable shelter. “Your father has just telephoned me, Lydia, so I know all about him. You will find the children in the barn, I think.” And Miss Martin carried Roger off for the bath and the nap that the tired, dusty little boy needed sorely.

Lydia gladly left her charge in such good hands, and with a hasty good-bye to Alexander, ran off to find her friends. She was glad to be visiting, and she thought Robin Hill beautiful, and indeed it was as pleasant a place to spend the summer as could be found anywhere. The living-rooms were spacious and cool, the bedrooms sunny and airy. A big attic, meant for play on rainy days, crowned the top of the house, and there each child had a place for the treasures that would otherwise have been strewn from one end to the other of Robin Hill, or have been banished altogether. Sticks, stones, weeds, cocoons, acorns, “Anything that can’t walk, swim, or fly,” was Miss Martin’s decree. “Live-stock must go into the barn.”

So out in the barn lived Snowball and Nig, the white and the black rabbits given Sammy by Dr. Wolfe. The first day, yes, the first hour of Sammy’s arrival at Robin Hill, in trying to climb the old apple-tree, down he came to the ground on his head, and four big stitches were set by the doctor in order to mend his broken crown. Sammy bore the pain like a hero, and not until it was all over and he was left alone with Miss Martin did he shed a few salt drops upon her friendly shoulder. But the sore head was soon forgotten, when that very afternoon had come the two rabbits to be Sammy’s special charge and delight throughout his summer stay. Friendly old Billy, the horse, and the two placid white cows, Brindle and Bossy, were quite accustomed to their many little visitors, and submitted with a good grace to be patted, and stroked, and fed hay and lumps of sugar.

Back of the house lay the garden, and there each child large enough to wield rake and hoe had his own little plot. During the first weeks of spring planting, Miss Martin was overwhelmed with promises of peas and beans and radishes for the Robin Hill table. Sammy and Polly and Mary Ellen had a scheme whereby, if their crops were as successful as they hoped, they would sell their produce to the village grocer, and with the proceeds make an interesting purchase.

“We’ll buy a piano,” said Polly.

“A gold chain for Miss Martin,” said Mary Ellen.

“A hand-organ,” said Sammy, in a burst of inspiration, “and travel all over, taking pennies in a hat. We’ll be rich.” And Sammy smacked his lips at the thought.

To-day, after dinner, at which Roger did not appear, Lydia, with arms about Mary Ellen and Polly, visited the pets, and listened to all the hopes and plans of her friends, not, however, without telling a few of her own.

Tom, growing brown and rosy and more boyish every day, led her to the swing lately put up in the woodshed, and gave her a swing in his finest style, running under and back in a manly fashion that he much admired. He seldom put his finger in his mouth now, and resorted to General Pershing, Jr., for comfort only on the rare occasions when in disgrace.