They enjoyed the day at church; they enjoyed seeing the people; they enjoyed rambling in the old neglected, bramble-covered graveyard near by, if they arrived too early; they enjoyed tuning up their own little pipes in the singing of the hymns.
There was room for them all in Old Uncle’s big square pew, but part of them sat across the aisle. Six children were too many for one pew. Six turning young heads! six pairs of knocking young heels! twelve restless elbows! It was not to be thought of. Old Uncle sat in one pew with three of them, and Aunt Susan across the aisle with the rest. Uncle Billy and Aunt Rose sat farther back, and were able to report on the general behavior when all reached home.
III.
WHAT THE TWINS FOUND.
The mountains had been a great source of interest at first to the children, who had never before seen anything but boundless savannas. The vast blue and purple shapes seemed to be some strange sort of great live creatures lying crouched against the sky; and they had a little awe if not fear of them.
Even when they became familiar enough to perceive that one pasture led to another up their sides, and to know various of the tumbling black and white brooks by name, they still felt that the mountains were alive, in some mysterious way. And the fact that there were bears and panthers in the caves and recesses of the purplest of the hills, lent a shivery sense of danger, particularly for Essie; for, reasoned Essie, how could the mountains be kind to bears and wolves, and kind to children also? Yet at the same time the fact that Old Uncle owned great tracts of their heights and depths, and had his logging teams and men in the forests in winter getting out the lumber, gave the children a cosy feeling as if they, too, had a sort of proprietorship in them, and even in the remote wild beasts.
The late summer of their first year north had brought the little people a great deal of pleasure. More than once Uncle Billy had taken them all in a skiff down the river, slipping along on the current, and then poling in shore. They had kindled a fire on the bank, and joyously cooked their own dinner. Uncle Billy had caught trout, and Aunt Rose had broiled them, while they picked the berries. After dinner they had burned the remnant, and washed the dishes together.
They had gone up the hills, too, on so many picnics, and seen what had looked so blue and so far turn into woods and fields and lonely farms that they had left off expecting to see a big bear reach over their shoulders for their bread and honey. In fact, by this time they almost wished they might see one, and Essie and Ally had many a delightful bear-talk with Pincher.
One day Ally and Essie were out by themselves gathering autumn leaves, which had come as a great surprise to their southern eyes; first making them think the woods afire, and then that the world would not be a green world any more.