“Oh, Mother, isn’t it just beautiful?” exclaimed the princess the night of the fagot party, as she watched the flames leap and dance down on the lawn.
“Yes; it is very suggestive, too,” answered Mrs. Van Vorst, “for it makes one think of the witches in Macbeth, as they stood around the cauldron watching their queer concoction ‘boil and bubble.’”
“O dear!” was Nita’s wail again, “it is lovely to see the fire and the girls, but I do want to hear the stories they tell.”
“Perhaps Nathalie will come up later,” suggested her mother, “and tell you some of the thrillers. Is that what she calls them?”
“There, they have stopped the witches’ dance and are forming a circle. Oh, one of the girls has thrown on a bundle of fagots! Yes, it’s that friend of Nathalie’s, Miss Sensible. Oh, Mother,” cried the little shut-in with a woeful countenance, “I am sure I could walk down there.” She stood up as she spoke and began to walk restlessly up and down the room.
“Oh, Nita, be careful!” pleaded her mother. “You do not want to overdo your walking, and you have been on your feet a good deal to-day.” Notwithstanding Mrs. Van Vorst’s protest there was a note of hope in her voice that betrayed that she had at last begun to see things as Nathalie had predicted, that she had made a mistake in housing her daughter behind high walls, and that the mingling with girls of her own age might bring new life to her.
“Ah, there’s Grace,” went on the voice at the window. “She’s the other girl who came with Nathalie. Oh, she’s throwing on her fagots!” The girl turned from the window as she perceived that Ellen had entered the room and was telling her mother that some one desired to see her in the library.
As Mrs. Van Vorst arose to leave the room Nita demurred, “Oh, Mother, I don’t want to be left here alone.”
“I will return as soon as possible, Nita, dear,” was the reply; “Ellen will stay with you. You can tell her about the fagot party,” she added hastily as she saw the cloud on the girl’s face. With a backward glance, as she hurried from the room, she saw that her suggestion had been followed and that Ellen had drawn her chair close to Nita’s, and was eagerly listening as her daughter related the incidents leading up to the demonstration down on the lawn.
Indeed it was not long before the faithful nurse, always interested in anything to brighten the life of her young charge, was watching the Pioneers and their doings as keenly as Nita, while wishing with her that they could hear the stories the girls were telling.