The soft hum of bees and insects filled the air, and the scent of flowers perfumed all around, and the bright blue sky above, lending its soft light, made her seem a part and portion of this charming picture of nature. Her doll, her dearest companion, was by her side. She had given her the quaint old-fashioned name of Joanna, and never suffered it to be abbreviated.
She held conversations with her, and confided all her little troubles to her wooden ear. (It would be well if wooden ears and cats' ears were the only ones to hear secrets, would it not? I must put in my cat's oar once in a while, for, you see, this story is a big one for a cat to remember.)
This day Joanna was particularly unsatisfactory, and Hope, getting tired of her airs, said:—
"Joanna, why are you so silent? Don't you hear the bees, and can't you see that great speckled toad under the currant bushes, hopping about? Oh, no, you don't like such things. You prefer flowers. Well," after a pause, "so do I. And I do love you, you dear, dear dolly." And she hugged her in her arms.
A slight crackling of the bushes and a scornful laugh caused Hope to start and look up, just as a lad of about twelve years of age presented himself on the other side of the hedge. He was a big, fair-haired boy, handsome, but rough looking, and rude as a young bear.
"What do you do that for, you little silly? That old doll don't know anything! Come, and let's play something."
Hope looked at him with wide-open eyes.
"Sulky little monkey!" he indignantly exclaimed, "why don't you speak? Say," after a pause, while he regarded her with surprise, "why don't you want to play?"
She looked at him in pathetic silence, then her eyes glanced at her crutches.
As he followed her glance, surprise, sorrow, and pity transformed his face. After a time he said in a subdued voice:—