Hildegarde's Holiday

iss Wealthy made a little speech, giving

arden. There is a pleasant seat there under one of the apple-trees, where you may like to sit. Beyond that are the woods. On the other side of t

Hildegarde. "It is delight enough just to bre

sloped down to a great hedge of Norway fir, just beyo

ildegarde, timidly. "I thought I saw a boat-ho

My dear," she said, and hesitated,-"my dear, have you-do

y well, Cousin Wealthy,-at least, Papa says

uld not think of that for a moment. But there is a row-boat," she added, after a pause,-"a boat which Jeremiah u

! We will be rather quiet this morning, for Rose does not feel very strong; but this afternoon perhaps we will try the boat. Isn't

and she herself had letters to write and accounts to settle. So the two girls sauntered off slowly

n flower-beds, trim and gay with geraniums, pansies, and heliotrope, were under the dining-room windows; but somehow the girls liked Jeremiah's garden best. Hildegarde pulled some sweet peas, and stuc

pointing to a feath

o you suppose we may pick some? I do lik

sadly and said, "Good-mornin'," and seemed pleased when the girls praised his garden. "Ee-yus!" he said, with placid melancholy. "I've seen wuss places. Minglin' the blooms with the truck and herbs was my

roffering her request for lavender, received a

oses there'll be in another week. Coreopsis is pooty, too; that's down the other side

rophet, and wandered away into the orchard, to

sted, bending this way and that, as apple-trees will. The short, fine grass was like emerald; there were no flowers at all, only green and brown, with the s

rheumatism. Suppose we call him Blunderbore. What does twist th

appallingly long. I really don't know why they twist so. In the forest they grow much taller

sympathy; indeed, it did look like an aged dame bent almost double. "Have you ever tried Pond's Extract? I think I must really buy a gallon or so

making a very comfortable seat. "She's a dear old lady, Rose!" she cried. "Doesn't mind a bit,

it?" replied Rose, looking cr

d person brandishing three arms o

taine! Cro

ai pas '

ge set,-don't you, Rosy?-all e

witches are just behind you, Hilda. Their skinny arms are outst

om Dame Crump's sheltering arm. "Ye secret,

me!" muttered Rose,

old gouty things! they can only claw the air, like Grandfat

I was a year ago,"

arde, indignantly; "as if you had

ink of my dear old chair, and wonde

e, sitting down by her frien

ke up and find everything right again. Having always walked, you cannot know the wonder of it. To think that I can stand up-so! and walk-so! actually one foot before the other,

, aren't you?" exclaimed

py, you know, dear. Now it is happiness, with fairyland thrown in. I am some wonderful creat

u are more like Una, in the 'Faerie Q

was only play to you; but, Hilda, it used to be almost quite real for me,-that sort of thing. Sitting there as I used, day after day, year after year, mostly alone,-for mother an

rde; "and you may tell me this instant. A pretty f

e people called her a sweetbrier-bush. She was my most intimate friend, and was always peeping in at the window and calling me to come out. When I

aid Hildegarde,

imagine. Sometimes he was perfectly charming, and wooed her in the most enchanting manner, murmuring soft things in her ear, and kissing and caressing her, till I almost fell in love with him myself. Then he would leave her alone,-oh! for days and days,-till she drooped, poor thing! and was perfectly mise

rde, warmly. "Couldn't you ma

Sir Scraggo, and bent farther and farther toward the south, stretching her arms out as if imploring her heartless lover to stay with her. I fastened her back to the wall once wi

do you know?" said Hildegarde.

not beautiful, and all the De Cedars are pretty stiff and formal. Then you m

ildegarde. "Who were some other of yo

e lived in the house in winter, but in spring Mother set him out in the flower-bed, just beside the double buttercup. So when the buttercup blossomed, with its lovely yellow balls, I played that Old Moneybags, who was an odious old miser, was counting his go

de, "is that they are so clear. What do you mea

de a little rhyme about Larry Larkspur and Miss Poppy one summer. I thought of it ju

are you?" said the caterpillar.' I will hear about

said Rose. "Still, if you want

kspur, Lar

cap of p

handy lit

d smirk he

kspur, Lar

oppy bloo

for her sc

for her fr

sage by the

u wed me,

art of Lar

burns for

orning 'gan

ced he o'e

py's leaves

brown her

d stood Lar

rt with gri

! she was

uess she wo

ne proved to be Martha, with her sleeves rolled up, beaming mildly through her spectacles. She carried a tray, on which were two glasses of creamy milk and a

the girls exclaimed with delight, "and 't would be a pity for her

cooky, "you are a saint! Where do you keep

Martha. "They build every year in the big elm