Hildegarde's Holiday: A Story for Girls

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  JOYOUS GARD.

  It was the tenth day of September, and as pleasant a day as one couldwish to see. The sun shone brightly everywhere; but Hildegarde thoughtthat the laughing god sent his brightest golden rays down on the spotwhere she was standing. The House in the Wood no longer justified itsname; for the trees had been cut away from around it,--only a fewstately pines and ancient hemlocks remaining to mount guard over thecottage, and to make pleasant shady places on the wide, sunny lawns thatstretched before and behind it. The brook no longer murmured unseen, butlaughed now in the sunlight, and reflected every manner of prettything,--fleecy cloudlet, fluttering bird or butterfly, nodding fern orsoldierly "cat-tail."

  The house itself looked alert and wide-awake, with all its windowsthrown open, and its door standing hospitably ajar, as if awaitingwelcome guests. From an upper window came a sound of singing, for Rosewas there, arranging flowers in the vases; from another direction washeard the ring of a hammer, as Bubble gave the last strokes to awonderful cart which he had been making, and which was to be hiscontribution to the Country Home.

  Hildegarde stood on the piazza, alone; her hands were full of flowers,and the "laughing light" of them was reflected in her bright, lovelyface. She looked about her on the sunny greenery, on the blue shiningstream, up to the bluer sky above. "This is the happiest day of mylife!" said the girl, softly. She wondered what she had done, that allthis joy and brightness should be hers. Every one was so good to her;every one had helped so kindly in the undertaking, from the beginningdown to this happy end. There had been a good deal to be done, ofcourse; but it seemed as if every hand had been outstretched to aid thiswork of her heart.

  Cousin Wealthy, of course, had made it possible, and had been absorbedin it, heart and soul, as had all the others of the household. But therehad also been so many pleasant tokens from outside. When Mrs. Brettarrived a week before, to take charge of the house, she brought a box ofcontributions from her neighbors in Bixby, to whom she had told thestory of the Country Home,--scrap-books, comforters, rag-babies,preserves, pop-corn, pincushions, catsup, kettle-holders. Bixby haddone what it could, and the girls and Miss Wealthy and Martha weredelighted with everything; but there was much laughter when the widowpulled out a huge bottle of Vino's Vegetable Vivifier, and presented it,with a twinkle in her eye, as the gift of Mr. Cephas Colt. Nor had thescattered villagers of Bywood been less generous. One good farmer hadbrought a load of wood; another, some sacks of Early Rose potatoes; athird presented a jar of June butter; a fourth, some home-mademaple-syrup. The wives and daughters had equalled those of Bixby intheir gifts of useful trifles; and Rose, who was fond of details,calculated that there were two tidies for every chair in the house.

  The boys of the neighborhood, who had at first shown a tendency to sitround on stumps and jeer at the proceedings, had now, at Hildegarde'ssuggestion, formed themselves into a Kindling-Wood Club, under Bubble'sleadership; and they split wood every afternoon for an hour, with suchgood results that Jeremiah reckoned they wouldn't need no coal roundthis place; they could burn kindlin's as reckless as if they wassomebody's else hired gal!

  Then, the day before, a great cart had rumbled up to the door, bringinga packing-case, of a shape which made Hildegarde cry out, and clap herhands, and say, "Papa! I _know_ it is Papa!"--which for the momentgreatly disconcerted the teamster, who had no idea of carrying people'spapas round in boxes. But when the case was opened, there was theprettiest upright piano that ever was seen; and sure enough, a noteinside the cover said that this was "for Hildegarde's Hobby, fromHildegarde's Poppy." But more than that! the space between the piano andthe box was completely filled with picture-books,--layers and layers ofthem; Walter Crane, and Caldecott, and Gordon Browne, and all the mostdelightful picture-books in the world. And in each book was written "TheRainy-Day Library;" which when Hildegarde saw, she began to cry, andsaid that her mother was the most blessed creature in the world.

  But after all, the thing that had touched the girl's heart most deeplywas the arrival, this very morning, of old Galusha Pennypacker,shuffling along with his stick, and bent almost double under the weightof a great sack which he carried on his back. Mrs. Brett had beenlooking out of the window, and announced that a crazy man was coming:"Looks like it, anyway. Hadn't I better call Zee-rubble, Miss Grahame?"

  But Hildegarde looked out, recognized the old man, and flew to meet him."Good-morning, Mr. Pennypacker!" she cried cordially. "Do let me helpyou with that heavy bag! There! now sit down here in the shade, for I amsure you are very tired."

  She brought a chair quickly; and the old man sank into it, for he wasindeed exhausted by the long walk under his heavy burden. He gaspedpainfully for breath; and it was not till Hildegarde had brought himwater, and fanned him diligently for some minutes, that he was able tospeak.

  "Thank ye!" he said at last, drawing out something that might once havebeen a handkerchief, and wiping his wrinkled face. "It's a warm day--forwalkin'."

  "Yes, indeed it is!" Hildegarde assented. "And it is a long walk fromyour house, Mr. Pennypacker. I fear it has been too much for you. Couldyou not have got one of the neighbors to give you a lift?"

  "No! no!" replied the old man quickly, with a cunning gleam in hissharp little eyes. "I'd ruther walk,--I'd ruther! Walkin' don't costnothin'! They'd charged me, like's not, a quarter for fetchin' on mehere. They think the old man's got money, but he hain't; no, he hain'tgot one red cent,--not for them he hain't." He paused, and beganfumbling at the string of the sack. "Hearin' you was settin' up ahorspittle here," he said, "I cal'lated to bring two or three apples.Children likes apples, don't they?" He looked up suddenly, with the samefierce gleam which had frightened Hildegarde and Rose so when they firstsaw him; but Hildegarde had no longer any fear of the singular old man.

  "Yes, they do!" she said warmly. "I don't know of anything they like sowell, Mr. Pennypacker. How very kind of you! And you came all this wayon foot, to bring them?"

  "The' warn't no shorter way!" replied old Galusha, dryly. "Thar'! Ireckon them's good apples."

  They were superb Red Astrakhans; every one, so far as Hildegarde couldsee, perfect in shape and beauty. Moreover, they had all been polishedtill they shone mirror-like. Hildegarde wondered what they had beenrubbed with, but dismissed the thought, as one unwise to dwell upon.

  "They's wuth money, them apples!" said the old man, after she hadthanked him again and again for the timely gift. "Money!" he repeated,lingering on the word, as if it were pleasant to the taste. "Huh! thereain't nobody else on the yearth I'd ha' give so much as a core of one of'em to, 'cept you, young woman."

  "I'm sure you are extremely kind, Mr. Pennypacker!" was all Hildegardecould say.

  "Ye've took thought for me!" said the old man. "The' ain't nobody tookthought for old G'lushe Pennypacker, round here, not for a good while.Ye was to my place yesterday, warn't ye?" He looked up again, with asudden glare.

  "Yes," Hildegarde admitted, "I was; and my friend too. She knit thestockings for you, sir. I hope you liked them."

  "Yes, yes!" said the old man, absently. "Good stockin's, good stockin's!Nice gal she is too. But--'t was you left the book, warn't it, hey?"

  "Yes," said Hildegarde, blushing. "I am so fond of 'Robinson Crusoe'myself, I thought you might like it too."

  "Hain't seen that book for fifty year!" said the old man. "Sot up alllast night readin' it. It'll be comp'ny to me all winter. And you--youtook thought on me!--a young, fly-away, handsome gal, and old G'lushePennypacker! Wal, 't won't be forgot here, nor yet yender!"

  He gave an upward jerk of his head, and then passed his rag of ahandkerchief over his face again, and said he must be going. But he didnot go till he had had a glass of milk, and half-a-dozen of Mrs. Brett'sdoughnuts, to strengthen him for his homeward walk.

  All this came back to Hildegarde, as she stood on the piazza; and as sherecalled the softened, friendly look in the old man's eyes as he badeher good-by, she said again to herself, "This is the ha
ppiest day of mylife!" The next day would not be so happy, for Rose and Bubble weregoing,--one to her home at Hartley's Glen, the other to his school inNew York; and in a fortnight she must herself be turning her facehomeward.

  How short the summer had been!--had there ever been such a flyingseason?--and yet she had done very little; she had only been happy, andenjoyed herself. Miss Wealthy, perhaps, could have told anotherstory,--of kind deeds and words; of hours spent in reading aloud, inwinding wools, in arranging flowers, in the thousand littlehelpfulnesses by which a girl can make herself beloved and necessary ina household. To the gentle, dreamy, delicate Rose, Hildegarde had really_been_ the summer. Without this strong arm always round her, this strongsunny nature, helping, cheering, amusing, how could she have come out ofthe life-long habits of invalidism, and learned to face the worldstanding on both feet? She could not have done it, Rose felt; and withthis feeling, she probably would not have done it.

  But, as I said, Hildegarde knew nothing of this. She had been happy,that was all. And though she was going to her own beloved home, and tothe parents who were the greater part of the world to her, still shewould be sorry to leave this happiness even for a completer one.

  But hark! was that the sound of wheels? Yes; they were coming.

  "Cousin Wealthy!" cried the girl, running to the door. "Rose! Bubble!Martha! Mrs. Brett! Benny! Come out, all of you! The stage is here!"

  Out they came, all running, all out of breath, save Miss Wealthy, whoknew the exact number of steps that would bring her to the exact middleof the piazza, and took these steps with her usual gentle precision ofmovement. She had no sooner taken up the position which she felt to bethe proper one for her, than round the corner came the Bywood stage,--along, lumbering, ramshackle vehicle, in which sat Mrs. Murray, akind-looking nurse, and the twelve convalescent children who were tohave the first delights of the Country Home.

  At sight of them Bubble began to wave his hat violently. "Hooray!" heshouted. "Three cheers for the young uns!"

  "Hooray!" echoed Benny, flapping his hands about, as he had no hat towave.

  The children set up a feeble shout in reply, and waved heads, arms, andlegs indiscriminately. Then ensued a scene of joyous confusion. Thelittle ones were lifted out, kissed, and welcomed; their bundlesfollowed; and for a few minutes the quiet place was filled with a veryBabel of voices.

  High above them all rose the clarion tones of Benny, explaining to aformer fellow-patient his present position in life. "I don't liveshere!" he said; "I lives a little way off. I's ve boy of ve house whereI lives, and I takes care of a whole lot of womenfolks, and Jim Mariahelps me, and vere's anover boy who does fings for me. It's bully, andI'm goin' to stay vere all my life long."

  Mrs. Murray looked quickly at Miss Wealthy. "Does he know of hismother's death?" she asked in a low tone.

  "No!" replied Miss Wealthy. "He has almost forgotten her, poor littlelad! I fear she was not very kind to him. And I have decided to keephim, Mrs. Murray, and to give him a happy childhood, and then send himto a good school. He is a most lovable child, and it will be a privilegeto have him, especially as my dear young relative is to leave me soon."

  Both looked instinctively toward Hildegarde, who was standing, flushedand radiant, the centre of a group of children, who clustered roundher, pulling at her hands and clinging to her gown.

  "What's the name of this place?" one little fellow was asking her. "Ilike this place! What is its name?"

  "It is called Joyous Gard!" replied Hildegarde. "That was the name of abeautiful castle, long and long ago, which belonged to a very braveknight; and we think it will be a good name for your Country Home,because we mean to make it full of joy and happiness, and yet to guardyou well in it. So Joyous Gard it is to be. Say it now, all ofyou,--'Joyous Gard!'"

  And "Joyous Gard!" shouted the children, their voices echoing merrilyamong the trees, and spreading away, till Rose, the romantic, wonderedif some faint tone of it might not reach a pale shade called Lancelot duLake, and bring him comfort where he sorrowed for his sins.

  So in Joyous Gard let us leave our Hildegarde,--in each hand a child,around her many loving hearts, in her own heart great joy and light andlove. Let us leave her, and wish that all girls might know the cheer andhappiness that was hers, not for that day only, but through all herdays.

  THE END.