“There is a white fence before it, and green blinds.”
So were there everywhere,—for this staid, aristocratic, inland borough was nothing if not correct. Years and years before, when it was young, its then leader of society had builded him a “mansion,” standing so many paces back from the street, of such a width and stature. He had placed about the yard a protecting paling, white,—to match the house; with its green blinds which did not match the grass, but stared at it in a hardness of tone, so utterly green, that it made nature’s color look yellow,—maybe from envy.
The example set in that far-away time continued still. To the one big square white house succeeded other big, square, white houses, as like to the pattern as rule and measure could make them; to the ugly green blinds other rows of ugly green blinds; while the original paling stretched out far, far on either side.
Thus the great High Street of Old Knollsboro began and grew; and now was far too loyal to its past to alter its own cleanly and roomy monotony for any modern freaks of architecture.
It was on this thoroughfare that a strange little girl, who had never been lost on the wide plains of Santa Felisa, now stood looking about in awe-stricken perplexity. She began, also, to feel physically very miserable. Clouds had obscured the sun, and the wind had risen chilly, blowing through her light attire with a piercing breath new to her experience, and most unpleasant. Her shoes were water-soaked, and her feet stiff with the cold; and such a terrible forlornness suddenly overcame her that she felt very much like crying.
“But if I cry I can’t see anything, then!” said this practical small creature, and forthwith restrained her tears. “Well, it must be further ’n this, anyhow; an’ if I go on, maybe I’ll see a Maltese cat. Mary Jane says her cat is pure Malty; and so—Ho! There she goes!”
Thinking wholly of the animal which was to be her guide, Steenie pursued a fleeing object that she believed to be Mary Jane’s possession; but she was disappointed at the very gateway of successful capture, beneath which the cat darted and through which the child would have followed but for the latch; about this her observant eye detected a radical difference from that of Madam Calthorp’s.
“Hm-m, Miss Cat! You’ve run away again, I s’pose. Mary Jane says you are always running away an’ ‘pestering the life out of her.’ An’, maybe, you’re like me,—don’t know where you do b’long. Never mind. I guess you’ll find your way home again; so I’ll go on.”
Steenie was so oddly and thinly clothed for that season and climate that some curious eyes looked after her sturdy little figure, as she passed swiftly up the street, darting questioning glances at every residence; but nobody thought of offering guidance. For wasn’t Old Knollsboro in morning attire? Besides, open curiosity concerning one’s neighbors was a common thing, and belonged to the vulgar crowd which did not inhabit High Street. So she made the full length of one side the roadway and had crossed to return upon the other, when she spied in the distance a bent, blue-coated old man, whom she recognized at once.
“It’s Mr. Tubbs! It truly is! Hurrah!” she cried, with a delight quite contrasting to the terror this same person had caused her earlier in the day. Then she sped forward till she had overtaken and thrown herself upon her victim’s shoulders, who rebounded from the shock of the attack with a groan horrible to hear, but which no longer daunted the glad child. “Oh, you dear Mr. Resolved! Here you were, looking for me, and all the time I was—”