Hildegarde's Holiday: A Story for Girls

  CHAPTER II.

  MISS WEALTHY.

  It was the 17th of June, and Miss Wealthy Bond was expecting her youngvisitors. Twice she had gone over the house, with Martha trotting at herheels, to see that everything was in order, and now she was making athird tour of inspection; not because she expected to find anythingwrong, but because it was a pleasure to see that everything was right.

  Miss Wealthy Bond was a very pretty old lady, and was very well aware ofthe fact, having been told so during seventy years. "The Lord made mepleasant to look at," she was wont to say, "and it is a greatprivilege, my dear; but it is also a responsibility." She had lovely,rippling silver hair, and soft blue eyes, and a complexion like agirl's. She had put on to-day, for the first time, her summercostume,--a skirt and jacket of striped white dimity, open a little atthe neck, with a kerchief of soft white net inside. This kerchief wasfastened with quite the prettiest brooch that ever was,--a pansy, madeof five deep, clear amethysts, set in a narrow rim of chased gold. MissWealthy always wore this brooch; for in winter it harmonized as wellwith her gown of lilac cashmere as it did in summer with the whitedimity. At her elbow stood Martha; it was her place in life. She seldomhad to be called; but was always there when Miss Wealthy wantedanything, standing a step back, but close beside her beloved mistress.Martha carried her aureole in her pocket, or somewhere else out ofsight; but she was a saint all the same. Her gray hair was smooth, andshe wore spectacles with silver rims, and a gray print gown, with thesleeves invariably rolled up to the elbows, except on Sundays, when sheput on her black cashmere, and spent the afternoon in uneasy state.

  "I think the room looks very pretty, Martha," said Miss Wealthy, for thetenth time.

  "It does, Mam," replied Martha, as heartily as if she had not heard theremark before. "Proper nice it looks, I'm sure."

  "You mended that little place in the curtain, did you, Martha?"

  "I did, Mam. I don't think as you could find it now, unless you lookedvery close."

  "And you put lavender and orange-flower water in the bottles? Very well;then that's all, I think."

  "'AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?'"]

  Miss Wealthy gave one more contented look round the pretty room, withits gay rose-flowering chintz, its cool straw matting, andcomfortable cushioned window-seats, and then drew the blinds exactlyhalf-way down, and left the room, Martha carefully closing the door.

  In the cool, shady drawing-room all was in perfect order too. There wereflowers in the tall Indian vases on the mantelpiece, a great bowl ofroses on the mosaic centre-table, and, as usual, a bunch of pansies onthe little round table by the armchair in which Miss Wealthy always sat.She established herself there now, and took up her knitting with alittle sigh of contentment.

  "And everything is right for supper, Martha?" she asked.

  "Yes, Mam," said Martha. "A little chicken-pie, Mam, and Frenchpotatoes, and honey. I should be making the biscuit now, Mam, if youdidn't need me."

  "Oh no, Martha," said the old lady, "I don't need anything. We shallhear the wheels when they come."

  She looked out of the window, across the pleasant lawn, at the blueriver, and seemed for a moment as if she were going to ask Marthawhether that were all right. But she said nothing, and the saint in grayprint trotted away to her kitchen.

  "Dear Martha!" said Miss Wealthy, settling herself comfortably among hercushions. "It is a great privilege to have Martha. I do hope these deargirls will not put her out. She grows a little set in her ways as shegrows older, my good Martha. I don't think that blind is _quite_half-way down. It makes the whole room look askew, doesn't it?"

  She rose, and pulled the blind straight, patted a tidy on the back of achair, and settled herself among her cushions again, with anothercritical glance at the river. A pause ensued, during which the oldlady's needles clicked steadily; then, at last, the sound of wheels washeard, and putting her work down in exactly the same spot from which shehad taken it up, Miss Wealthy went out on the piazza to welcome heryoung guests.

  Hildegarde sprang lightly from the carriage, and gave her hand to hercompanion to help her out.

  "Dear Cousin Wealthy," she cried, "here we are, safe and sound. I amcoming to kiss you in one moment. Carefully, Rose dear! Lean on me, so!_there_ you are! now take my arm. Slowly, slowly! See, Cousin Wealthy!see how well she walks! Isn't it delightful?"

  "It is, indeed!" said the old lady, heartily, kissing first the glowingcheek and then the pale one, as the girls came up to her. "And how doyou do, my dears? I am very glad indeed to see you. Rose, you look somuch better, I should hardly have known you; and you, Hilda, look likeJune itself. I must call Martha--" But Martha was there, at her elbow."Oh, Martha! here are the young ladies."

  Hildegarde shook hands warmly with Martha, and Rose gave one of her shy,sweet smiles.

  "This is Miss Hildegarde," said the old lady; "and this is Miss Rose.Perhaps you will take them up to their rooms now, Martha, and Jeremiahcan take the trunks up. We will have supper, my dears, as soon as youare ready; for I am sure you must be hungry."

  "Yes, we are as hungry as hunters, Cousin Wealthy!" cried Hildegarde."We shall frighten you with our appetites, I fear. This way, Martha?Yes, in one minute. Rose dear, I will put my arm round you, and you cantake hold of the stair-rail. Slowly now!"

  They ascended the stairs slowly, and Hildegarde did not loose her holdof her friend until she had seated her in a comfortable easy-chair inthe pretty chintz bedroom.

  "There, dear!" she said anxiously, stooping to unfasten her cloak. "Areyou very dreadfully tired?"

  "Oh no!" replied Rose, cheerfully; "not at all _dreadfully_ tired, onlycomfortably. I ache a little, of course, but--Oh, what a pleasant room!And this chair is comfort itself."

  "The window-seat for me!" cried Hildegarde, tossing her hat on the bed,and then leaning out of the window with both arms on the sill. "Rose,don't move! I forbid you to stir hand or foot. I will tell you while youare resting. There is a river,--a great, wide, beautiful river, justacross the lawn."

  "Well, dear," said quiet Rose, smiling, "you knew there was a river;your mother told us so."

  "Yes, Goose, I did know it," cried Hildegarde; "but I had not seen it,and didn't know what it was like. It is all blue, with sparkles all overit, and little brown flurries where the wind strikes it. There arewillows all along the edge--"

  "To hang our harps on?" inquired Rose.

  "Precisely!" replied Hildegarde. "And I think--Rose, I _do_ see aboat-house! My dear, this is bliss! We will bathe every morning. Youhave never seen me dive, Rose."

  "I have not," said Rose; "and it would be a pity to do it out of thewindow, dear, because in the first place I should only see your heels asyou went out, and in the second--"

  "Peace, paltry soul!" cried Hilda. "Here comes a scow, loaded with wood.The wood has been wet, and is all yellow and gleaming. 'Scow,'--what anabsurd word! 'Barge' is prettier."

  "It sounds so like Shalott," said Rose; "I must come and look too.

  "'By the margin, willow-veiled, Slide the heavy barges, trailed By slow horses.'"

  "Yes, it is just like it!" cried Hildegarde. "It is really a redeemingfeature in you, Rose, that you are so apt in your quotations. Say thepart about the river; that is exactly like what I am looking at."

  "Do you say it!" said Rose, coming softly forward, and taking her seatbeside her friend. "I like best to hear you."

  And Hildegarde repeated in a low tone,--

  "Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Through the wave that runs forever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot."

  The two girls squeezed each other's hand a little, and looked at theshining river, and straightway forgot that there was anything else to bedone, till a sharp little tinkle roused them from their dream.

  "Oh!" cried Hildegarde. "Rose, how _could_ you let me goa-woolgathering? Just look at my hair!"

  "And my hands!
" said Rose, in dismay. "And we said we were as hungry ashunters, and would be down in a minute. What will Miss Bond say?"

  "Well, it is all the river's fault," said Hildegarde, splashingvigorously in the basin. "It shouldn't be so lovely! Here, dear, here isfresh water for you. Now the brush! Let me just wobble your hair up foryou, so. There! now you are my pinkest Rose, and I am all right too; sodown we go."

  Miss Wealthy had been seriously disturbed when the girls did not appearpromptly at sound of the tea-bell. She took her seat at the tea-tableand looked it over carefully. "Punctuality is so important," she said,half to herself and half to Martha, who had just set down theteapot,--"That mat is not _quite_ straight, is it, Martha?--especiallyin young people. I know it makes you nervous, Martha,"--Martha did notlook in the least nervous,--"but it will probably not happen again. Ifthe butter were a _little_ farther this way! Thank you, Martha. Oh, hereyou are, my dears! Sit down, pray! You must be very hungry after--Butprobably you felt the need of resting a little, and to-morrow you willbe quite fresh."

  "No, it wasn't that, Cousin Wealthy," said Hildegarde, frankly. "I amashamed to say that we were looking out of the window, and the river wasso lovely that we forgot all about supper. Please forgive us this once,for really we are pretty punctual generally. It is part of Papa'smilitary code, you know."

  "True, my dear, true!" said Miss Wealthy, brightening up at once. "Yourfather is very wise. Regular habits are a great privilege, really. Willyou have tea, Hilda dear, or milk?"

  "Oh, milk, please!" said Hilda. "I am not to take tea till I amtwenty-one, Cousin Wealthy, nor coffee either."

  "And a very good plan," said Miss Wealthy, approvingly. "Milk is thenatural beverage--will you cut that pie, dear, and help Rose, andyourself?--for the young. When one is older, however, a cup of tea isvery comforting. None for me, thank you, dear. I have my little dish ofmilk-toast, but I thought the pie would be just right for you youngpeople. Martha's pastry is so _very_ light that a small quantity of itis not injurious."

  "Rose!" said Hildegarde, in tones of hushed rapture, "it is achicken-pie, and it is all for us. Hold your plate, favored one of thegods! A river, a boat-house, and chicken-pie! Cousin Wealthy, I am soglad you asked us to come!"

  "Are you, dear?" said Miss Wealthy, looking up placidly from hermilk-toast, "Well, so am I!"