Hildegarde's Neighbors

by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

"But as you was saying, dearie, about the game. Ye—es! Well, my grandmother, she was an anncient woman; some said she was ninety-seven, and more called it ninety-eight, but she didn't rightly know herself, bein' she had lost the family Bible. Burned up with the house it was, before she came from the Provinces, and some said it was because of starting a new fire in the cook-stove on Sunday; but I don't want to set in judgment, not on my own flesh and blood, I do not, Miss Grahame. And I remember as if it was this day of time, she settin' in her chair in the porch to our house, smokin' her pipe, if you'll excuse me ladies, bein' an anncient woman, and I HAVE heard great ladies took their pipes in them times, but so it is. And she says to me, 'Drusilly,' she says, 'Why don't you play with Salome?' and I says, ''Cause I ain't got nothin' to play.' And she says, 'Come here,' she says, 'and I'll learn ye a game,' she says. So I called Salome, and we two stood there, and Gram'ther she taught us 'The Highland Gates to Die.' Salome, she had been feedin' the hens, and when she come back she left the gate open, and they all got out and went and strayed into the woods, and my father got so mad we thought we should lose him, for sure. Purple he used to get when he was mad, same as a late cabbage, and an awful sight. Yes, children, be thankful if you're learned to keep your tempers. So that's all I know, Miss Grahame, my dear, and you're welcome as air to it; and I do believe I see Mis' Auntie lookin' out the kitching winder this minute, so if you'll excuse me, ladies, bein' I feel a goneness inside, and if I should faint away, how your blessed mother would feel!"

CHAPTER VII.

IN GOOD GREEN WOOD.

They were in the Roseholme woods, all four girls,—Hildegarde, Bell, Gertrude and little Kitty. Kitty was only eight years old, but she liked good times as well as if she were sixteen, and when the sisters said "Come along, Kitty," she had dropped her doll and flown like a bird to join them. Willy shouted after her, having designs on her in regard to tin soldiers; but for once Kitty was deaf to her Willy's voice. Now she was as happy as a child could be, sitting in a nest of warm pine needles, playing at "partridge mother."

The other girls sat near her, making oak wreaths and talking busily. Bell was telling of some college experiences.

"So we found we had not nearly green enough to trim the hall, and I volunteered to get some more, while the rest of the committee made the garlands. I had not far to go, only to the grove, about a mile beyond the campus; but it was growing dark, so I hurried as much as I could. I ran across Professor Thunder's yard, as that cut off nearly half the distance, and there my fate found me. Oh, dear! Hildegarde, you will never guess what I did."

"Nothing, I am sure," said Hildegarde, gravely, "that was not consistent with dignity and decorum. The college maiden is an awful person, I have always understood."

"You shall judge!" said Bell. "Remember that I was alone, with none to help me carry the boughs; that I was late, it being then six o'clock, and the dance beginning at eight. I had to get the greens, help put them up, get my supper, dress, and be there at eight to receive the juniors. And there—there, in the clear afternoon light on the lawn, stood the professor's wheelbarrow, saying as plainly as a wheelbarrow can, 'You'd better take me along to bring the things home in.' Could I resist that mute appeal? I could not. I saw, I took, I trundled! The thing went of its own accord, I believe; certainly I never before made such good time to the grove. Once there, it was a matter of only a few minutes to strip the boughs and fill the friendly barrow. But, oh! I filled it not wisely, but too well. It was all so green and pleasant, and the smell of the trees was so delightful, that I did not know when to stop. Soon the barrow was heaped high with all manner of pleasantness, and I started to return. Well, my dear, then the trouble began. In the first place, full barrows are different from empty ones. It was very heavy, and the boughs kept slipping this way, and sliding that way, and tumbling down every third second. I got cross—oh, so cross! and presently I passed the janitor's son, lounging along homeward, and he grinned, being an oaf, and said, 'Better let me help ye, hadn't ye?' Oh, no! he didn't mean to be rude, he really meant to help; but my blood was up, and my hair was down, and I was very short with him, I fear, and trundled off alone with my dignity. Then a branch fell out and got tangled in the wheel, and while I was getting it out a twig snapped into my eyes; and there was a stone in my shoe, and altogether,—well, it was only a mile to the grove, but it was twenty miles back, I can tell you. Before I reached the campus my arms were so sore, and my foot so lame, and my eye so painful, that my pride ran out at the heels of my boots, like the gunpowder. I was going pretty slowly, so as to keep the boughs from tumbling out more than was absolutely necessary,—and I heard the boy lumbering up behind me again. So, without turning round, I said, 'You SHALL help me now, if you please!' and—and—oh, Hildegarde! a deep voice answered, 'I shall be charmed to do so!' and I looked up and saw Professor Thunder!"

"Oh, Bell! oh, poor thing!" cried Hildegarde. "What did you do?"

"Do?" replied Bell. "I didn't do anything. He took the handles from me,—his own handles, mind you, of his own barrow,—and trundled it solemnly along. I was struggling with hysterics. I am not in the least hysterical by nature, but the combination—the professor taken for a lout and commanded to trundle his own barrow, stolen by a sophomore, the twig in my eye and the stone in my foot—was too much for me. Besides, there seemed nothing in particular to say. I could not begin 'Please, sir, I thought you were the janitor's boy!' nor did 'Please Professor Thunder, this is your wheelbarrow, which I have stolen,' seem exactly a happy opening for a conversation. So we went on in silence, and when the branches tumbled off, I picked them up without a word. How could I be such a dumb idiot? Don't ask me! If it had been any other professor I might have found courage to speak; but Jupiter Tonans was my terror and my hero; I sat at his feet, and the roll of his deep voice was music to my sophomoric ears. I had never spoken to him out of class, but only that morning he had praised my translation, he who seldom praised anything,—and now to come to this!