Elsa’s mother had died of consumption and her father had feared that his child might inherit that disease. In his excessive love and care for her he had kept her closely housed in the poor apartment of a crowded tenement, the only home he could afford. The result had been to render her more frail than she would otherwise have been. Her shyness, her lameness, and her love of books with only her father for teacher, made her contented enough in such a life, but was far from good for her. The best thing that had ever happened to her was this temporary breaking up of this unwholesome routine and her having companions of her own age.
So that even now she had looked wistfully upon the small bookshelf in the cabin, with the few volumes placed there; but Mrs. Calvert shook her head and Elsa had to obey.
“But, Dorothy, aren’t you afraid? There might be snakes. It might rain. It looks wet and swampy—I daren’t get my feet wet—father’s so particular——”
“If it rains I’ll run back and get you an umbrella, Aunt Betty’s own—the only one aboard, I fancy. And as for fear—child alive! Did you never get into the woods and smell the ferns and things? There’s nothing so sweet in the world as the delicious woodsy smell! Ah! um! Let’s hurry!” cried Dolly, linking her arm in the lame girl’s and helping her over the grassy hummocks.
Even then Elsa would have retreated, startled by the idea of “woods” where the worst she had anticipated was a leisurely stroll over a green meadow. But there was no resisting her friend’s enthusiasm; besides, looking backward she was as much afraid to return and try clambering aboard the Lily, unaided, as she was to go forward.
So within a few minutes all four had entered the bit of woodland and, following Dorothy’s example, were eagerly searching for belated blossoms. Learning, too, from that nature-loving girl, things they hadn’t known before.
“A cardinal flower—more of them—a whole lot! Yes, of course, it’s wet there. Cardinals always grow in damp places, along little streams like this I’ve slipped my foot into! Oh! aren’t they beauties! Won’t dear Aunt Betty go just wild over them! if Father John, the darling man who ‘raised’ me, were only here! He’s a deal lamer than you, Elsa Carruthers, but nobody’s feet would get over the ground faster than his crutches if he could just have one glimpse of this wonderland!
“Did you ever notice? Almost all the autumn flowers are either purple or yellow or white? There are no real blues, no rose-colors; with just this lovely, lovely cardinal for an exception.”
Dorothy sped back to where Elsa stood nervously balancing herself upon a fallen tree-trunk and laid the brilliant flowers in her hands. Elsa looked at them in wonder and then exclaimed: