“I don’t see’s she can help it,” said Miss Augusta, with a short laugh. “Don’t you fear. I know ‘aunt Puss’ better than you do, though I never ’ve seen her. Kittie and Bess told me all about her, last spring.” So it came about that when Pet took her seat in the Northern train, a few days later, a neatly dressed little Irish girl sat beside her, awed into silence by the furniture of the car and, shortly afterward, by its rapid motion.
When the conductor came round for the tickets, her hand furtively stole over and clutched a fold of Pet’s rich dress, for protection from the man in uniform. And Pet had to reassure her, and point out interesting bits of landscape as they flew northward toward The Pines, side by side.
CHAPTER V.
IN THE DEN.
AT The Pines, during Pet’s absence, the summer days passed swiftly and joyously; joyously at least for all but one of the party. Tom was no longer the bright, merry, mischievous Tom of old. He joined in the sports and rambles of the others, it is true, but with a sober face and lagging step quite unnatural for him; and he was often away from the house, alone. As these strange ways grew more marked, Randolph tried to get at the source of the boy’s trouble. But Tom shrugged his cousin’s arm off from his shoulders where it had been affectionately laid, and told him gruffly to “let a fellow alone—nothing was the matter!”
It was almost time for Pet to return. The young people had arranged to ride over to the railroad and meet her, with Ruel and the big wagon. They had received a letter from her, telling a little about her experience at the fire, and they were extremely anxious to hear the whole story, and to see little Bridget, the heroine of the occasion. Mr. Waldron, with his great, kindly heart, had given Miss Augusta all the aid she asked, and more; so there was no obstacle in the way of Bridget’s coming, unless it were aunt Puss. And the idea of aunt Puss being an obstacle—!
On the day before, Kittie and the captain had planned to go into the woods and gather oak leaves for trimming, to decorate Pet’s room. What was their dismay, on waking that morning, to hear the rain pouring steadily on the shingles over their heads.
“Now we can’t get any leaves!” exclaimed Bess sorrowfully, as she stood at the window, looking out at the blurred landscape and the slanting lines of rain between her and the wood-lot. “What ever shall we do, all day?”
“O, I don’t know,” laughed Kittie, giving her sister’s long brown hair a toss up backward and down over her eyes. “Uncle Percival will think of something nice, I guess. And I’m glad the storm didn’t come to-morrow, anyway!”
“Perhaps it will.”
“Perhaps it won’t!” Kittie’s face and voice were full of sunshine.