Muffin’s hair was not quite so yellow as her sister’s. Her eyes were not quite so blue; her appetite was not quite so big; her physique not quite so stupendous. Nor was her drawl quite so ridiculous; she was not quite such a “silly”; but her nature was equally docile and responsive. When Muffin arrived in triumph, wearing her wonderful adventures like a heroine in a romance, Aunt Caroline was in her boudoir. In a former and more warlike epoch it had been the armory, but it was now transformed by the art of Waring and Maple into a most comfortable sanctuary where an old dévote could tell her beads. Not that the occupant of the boudoir was thus engaged, when Miss Perry led her sister proudly by the hand, canary and all, into the presence of her august and formidable relation.
“Aunt Caroline, this is Muffin!” announced that Featherbrain, breathlessly. “Isn’t she a sweet?”
Aunt Caroline put up her glass in her time-honored manner. But there was something about Muffin that disarmed her. Whether it was Muffin herself, or her famous mauve, which, although in its third season, and decidedly rumpled owing to long exposure on the Cambrian railway, was certainly very becoming, or whether it was the canary, or her charming docility, or her candor and simplicity, it would be wrong to say positively, but Aunt Caroline accepted the present and a most cordial embrace in the spirit in which they were proffered.
“I have brought you this, Aunt Caroline,” said Muffin, “because you have been so kind to Araminta, and because it is so dear of you to have me.”
“Thank you, my dear,” said Aunt Caroline.
Aunt Caroline actually said, “My dear!”
Certainly it may have been that a recent illness had lowered her vitality; yet it is hard to believe that that can have been really the case, for she was still a very resolute minded old lady. But Miss Burden was amazed that she should permit herself such an unparalleled license of expression. Ponto was also. Indeed, he appeared to resent it, for he sat up and looked daggers at the canary. Dogs are so jealous, pugs particularly.
In every way Muffin’s fortnight was a great success. She took the frankest pleasure in ascending mountains, bestriding waterfalls, in leaping chasms, in descending precipices, and in tearing her frock on the slightest possible pretext. Not her mauve, of course. The pièce de résistance of her extremely limited wardrobe was kept in reserve for high days and holy days. But she gave up the golden hours to the sheer delight of soaking her shoes and stockings in sloughs and mud and watercourses which an unerring instinct enabled her to discover in the most unlikely places; in rending her garments—second best, of course, so they really did not matter—in tearing her fingers upon briars and boulders and furze-bushes; and in using the brand-new straw the general outfitter at Slocum Magna had supplied her with for the sum of one shilling and elevenpence halfpenny—there is only one price for straw hats at Slocum Magna provided you pay cash—to convey rare ferns and recherché specimens of the fauna and flora of the neighborhood.
Muffin was a singularly learned creature. She could tell you who was the lawful owner of the pink egg with brown spots, or the gray egg with cream ones. She could point out the tracks of the weasel; she could discern where a squirrel lurked among the foliage when the ordinary person would have been baffled completely. She was familiar with the habits and appearance of the stoat. Every tree and bush enabled her to unfold her knowledge. Not only did it embrace all the objects in nature, but also she had a passion for collecting every wayside flower and every herb that grew.
Her store of information and her desire for its acquisition were not confined to dry land merely. In the numerous rills and small lakes in which the mountains abounded she spent many choice hours. Sometimes she removed her shoes and stockings; sometimes she did not. It depended upon whether she happened to remember that she was wearing these encumbrances before wading in in search of trout or minnows or mere botanical knowledge. However, as became a natural leader of fashion at Slocum Magna, she generally contrived in some sort to kilt her dress.