Hildegarde's Holiday: A Story for Girls

by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

When evening came, the group round the parlor-table was a very pleasant one to see. Miss Wealthy's chair was drawn up near the light, and she had her best cap on, and her evening knitting, which was something as soft and white and light as the steam of the tea-kettle. Near her sat Hildegarde, wearing a gown of soft white woollen stuff, which set off her clear, fresh beauty well. She was dressing a doll, which she meant to slip into the next box of flowers that went to the hospital, for a little girl who was just getting well enough to want "something to cuddle;" and her lap was full of rainbow fragments of silk and velvet, the result of Cousin Wealthy's search in one of her numerous piece-bags. On the other side of the table sat Rose, looking very like her name-flower in her pale-pink dress; while Bubble, on a stool beside her, rested his arm on his sister's knee, and looked the very embodiment of content. A tiny fire was crackling on the hearth, even though it was still August; for Miss Wealthy thought the evening mist from the river was dangerous, and dried her air as carefully as she did her linen. Dr. Johnson was curled on his hassock beside the fire; Benny was safe in bed.

"And now, Bubble," said Hildegarde, with a little sigh of satisfaction as she looked around and thought how cosey and pleasant it all was, "now you shall tell us about your fishing excursion."

"Well," said Bubble, nothing loath, "it was this way, you see. When I came back from the Farm, leaving Jock there, I found the doctor in his study, and the whole room full of rods and lines and reels, and all kinds of truck; and he was playing with the queerest things I ever saw in my life,—bits of feather and wool, and I don't know what not, with hooks in them. When he called me to come and look at his flies I was all up a tree, and didn't know what he was talking about; but he told me about 'em, and showed me, and then says he, 'I'm going a-fishing, Bubble, and I'm going to take you, if you want to go.' Well, I didn't leave much doubt in his mind about that. Fishing! Well, you know, Pinkie, there's nothing like it, after all. So we started next morning, Doctor and I, and three other fel—I mean gentlemen. Two of 'em was doctors, and the third was a funny little man, not much bigger'n me. I wish 't you could ha' seen us start! Truck? Well, I should—say so! Rods, and baskets, and bait-boxes, and rugs, and pillows, and canned things, and camp-stools, and tents, and a cooking-stove, and a barrel of beer, and—"

"How much of this are you making up, young man?" inquired Hildegarde, calmly; while Miss Wealthy paused in her knitting, and looked over her spectacles at Bubble in mild amazement.

"Not one word, Miss Hilda!" replied the boy, earnestly. "Sure as you're sitting there, we did start with all them—those things. Doctor, of course, knew 't was all nonsense, and he kept telling the others so; but they was bound to have 'em; and the little man, he wouldn't be separated from that beer-barrel, not for gold. However, it all turned out right. We were bound for Tapsco stream, you see; and when we came to the end of the railroad, we hired a sledge and a yoke of oxen, and started for the woods. Seven miles the folks there told us it was, but it took us two whole days to do it; and by the time we got to the stream, the city chaps, all 'cept Dr. Flower (and he really ain't half a city chap!) were pretty well tired out, I can tell you. Breaking through the bushes, stumbling over stumps and stones, and h'isting a loaded sledge over the worst places, wasn't exactly what they had expected; for none of 'em but the doctor had been in the woods before. Well, we got to the stream; and there was the man who was going to be our guide and cook, and all that. He had two canoes,—a big one and a little one; he was going to paddle one, and one of us the other. Well, the little man—his name was Packard—said he'd paddle the small canoe, and take the stove and the beer-barrel, ''cause they'll need careful handling,' says he. The old guide looked at him, when he said that, pretty sharp, but he didn't say nothing; and the rest of us got into the other canoe with the rest of the truck, after we'd put in his load. We started ahead, and Mr. Packard came after, paddling as proud as could be, with his barrel in the bow, and he and the stove in the stern. I wish't you could ha' seen him, Miss Hilda! I tell you he was a sight, with his chin up in the air, and his mouth open. Presently we heard him say, 'This position becomes irksome; I think I will change'—but that was all he had time to say; for before the guide could holler to him, he had moved, and over he went, boat and barrel and stove and all. Ha! ha! ha! Oh, my! if that wasn't the most comical sight—"

"Oh, but, Bubble," cried Hildegarde, hastily, as a quick glance showed her that Miss Wealthy had turned pale, dropped her knitting, and put her hand up to the pansy brooch, "he wasn't hurt, was he? Poor little man!"

"Hurt? not a mite!" responded Bubble. "He come up next minute, puffing and blowing like a two-ton grampus, and struck out for our canoe. We were all laughing so we could hardly stir to help him in; but the doctor hauled him over the side, and then we paddled over and righted his canoe. He was in a great state of mind! 'You ought to be indicted,' he says to the guide, 'for having such a canoe as that. It's infamous! it's atrocious! I—I—I—how dare you, sir, give me such a rickety eggshell and call it a boat?' Old Marks, the guide, looked at him again, and didn't say anything for a while, but just kept on paddling. At last he says, very slow, as he always speaks, 'I—guess—it's all right, Squire. This is a prohibition State, you know; and that's a prohibition boat, that's all.' Well, there was some talk about fishing the things up; but there was no way of doing it, and Dr. Flower said, anyhow, he didn't come to fish for barrels nor yet for cook-stoves; so we went on, and there they be—are yet, I suppose. Bimeby we came to Marks's camp, where we were to stay. It was a bark lean-to, big enough for us all, with a nice fire burning, and all comfortable. Doctor and I liked it first-rate; but the city chaps,—they said they must have their tents up, so we spent a good part of a day getting the things up."

"And were they more comfortable?" asked Rose. "I suppose the gentlemen were not used to roughing it."

"Humph!" responded Bubble, with sovereign contempt. "Mr. Packard set his afire, trying to build what he called a scientific fire, and came near burning himself up, and the rest of us, let alone the whole woods. And the second night it came on to rain,—my! how it did rain! and the second tent was wet through, and they were all mighty glad to come into the lean-to!"

"This seems to have been a severe experience, my lad," said Miss Wealthy, with gentle sympathy. "I trust that none of the party suffered in health from all this exposure."