But Happie began to sing as she spread the heterogeneous collection of beds with their white, fine sheets and soft blankets, and this was what she sang, improvising as she went, not poetically, but with better results on the listeners than all poetry yields:
"Now this is a lark;
For fear of the dark
We must all go to bed in a minute,
For we can't see to toil
Without any oil,
And no lamp has a drop of oil in it
But we're glad to embark
In our seedy old Ark—
If there's good to be had we will win it!"
"You're your mother's comforter, Happie, my sunshine!" cried Mrs. Scollard, leaning towards her second daughter to pat the tousled head bent as its owner stooped to tuck in a blanket.
"And your adopted aunt's reliance," added Miss Keren-happuch unexpectedly from the adjoining room. And Happie felt that life was not without promise.
Miss Bradbury tucked little Penny away with her until her mother should be well enough to take her into her room. Laura and Polly were roommates, as they had been in the Patty-Pans, and Margery and Happie slept together, as they had all their lives.
The two eldest girls whispered long after they had gone to bed, and silence had fallen upon the Ark. Happie was too excited to sleep, Margery too miserable. To the eldest girl it seemed as if the life upon which she had entered was going to prove unbearable, but to the younger there appeared on the distant horizon gleams of hope. There was a certain charm in all this discomfort, and that view was really sublime. After Margery ceased to reply to her whispered remarks, Happie still lay awake, planning, speculating, beginning to hope, yet half crying too, as she remembered the dear Patty-Pans, and the only home she had ever known, the great, noisy, ugly, splendid city. But at last her mind settled down to contemplation of those glorious mountains stretching away before her window, waiting for her to see them in the morning, guarding her while she slept. In the thought of them she found comfort, and gazing upon them in imagination, she fell asleep.
[CHAPTER VI]
MAKING THE BEST OF IT
Happie was awakened "in her chamber towards the east" by the sun streaming in upon her, and with a vague impression that the house was on fire. Never had there been such a blaze of light at that hour in New York, never at any hour such a resplendent, rosy glare. In the girls' little chamber at home it had been at best but a lighter shade of gray light, chastened by the air shaft, that summoned them to a new day.