m mmiimummmtiTsiiti mmmfiimii m i'Si s sf mmfm^mnj PS CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE Cornell University Library PS 1272.R6 1882 3 1924 021 985 241 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021985241 ROCKY FORK BY MARY HARTWELL CATHERWOOD. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY, 32 FRANKLtN STREET, Copyright, 1882. D. I.0THROP & Company. v5 Press of Umckwlll and CiiurchilLj 39 Ai-ch St , Boston. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. Doctor Garde's LirrLE Girl . . 7 II. Mr. Pitzer . . . . 18 III. The Geography-school Teacher 24 IV. Company ... .34 V. The Geography School . 56 VI. The Narrows and Mary Ann Furnace 73 VII. Miss Melissa further disapproves 84 VIII. Which treats of Thumb-papers 100 IX. They churn . . 107 X. Mother Outdoors disturbed . 115 XI. Bluebell makes a Poem 127 XII. "Jordan stormy B^nks" 140 XIII. Abram has a Theory 153 XIV. Bluebell has no Theory 165 XV. The Ford . . . . 172 XVI. A trio and a Chorus . . 176 XVII. Doctor Garde listens to Keamjn' 187 V Contents. XVIII. Bluebell and Tildy XIX. The Child in the Blackberry Patch 212 XX. The last Time 222 XXI. The first railroad Train 238 XXII. Miss Bigi.ar 251 XXIII. A Duck among Swans 258 XXIV. Miss Melissa drops a few Hints 268 XXV. Events , . 277 XXVI. Miss Big(-ar's Possessions jq^ XXVII. Dinner in Doll-land XXVIII. Somebody arrives 203 302 310 XXIX. Doctor Garde's little Girl 318 326 XXX. Two Letters LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. At the Pasture Bars . ... Frontis. " Whose little Girl are You.' " 9 Bluebell .... 13 The Tump'ny . • • 35 " Georgiana, I got just one Rockety-popperty " . 51 Such a delicious little Sister! . . .54 Brushing out her Puffs . . . .61 Bluebell at the Mary Ann Furnace . . 81 Mr. Pitzer's Schoolhouse ... . . 92 Which shall choose up ? . . . 98 Looking for the Thumb-paper .... loi " 'It's going to storm,' he said" .... 113 " Wait, Tildy!" .... . 117 After the Storm . ... 129 The Poetess and her Audience . . 137 She heard a long, ringing Neigh from the Lane 149 Liza is sure there is Something wrong . 155 " I nevva turn back any more ! " . .160 Bluebell has no Theory . . . 167 They all proceeded down the Meadow in Silence . 194 At the Door of the Spring-house . . 200 In the elder Thicket . . , . 207 vi List of Illustrations, Tildy's House 213 Bluebell's Residence 220 " They brought back Bunches of Honeysuckle." 33-4 Brought down from the Garret . . . 231 " Good-by, B'uebell, good-by ! '' . . 235 Miss Libbie Biggar . . . 255 Before the Child was dressed 269 Homesick ... . . . 273 Bluebell and one pictured Tome called Shakespeare . 289 " Oh do play, Miss Biggar," pressed Mrs. Garde 307 Archie . . . . 311 Doctor Garde . . . 321 " My Picture that Aunt Melissa had taken." . 329 M ROCKY FORK CHAPTER I. DOCTOR garde's LITTLE GIRL. ORE than twenty years ago the morning sun looked down among the tall hills of central Ohio, and saw one little girl patting along a path. The path wound down through a hollow, and up, up over wood-clothed heights which she thought nearly touched the sky. At first glance this little girl appeared to be a large slat sun-bonnet taking a walk on a pair of long pan- talettes. But at second glance one brown, thin arm escaped from a short sleeve might have been seen carrying a calico bag by its drawing-string; and under the pantalettes a pair of stout-shod little feet skipped along. It was not more than seven o'clock. The tall meadow grass was glittering, and every bird known 7 8 Rocky Fork. to the State was singing with liis morning voice. ^^'hen she reached the small run which twisted along the hollow, and put her foot on the first of the step- ping-stones which crossed it, the little girl could not help stopping to gaze in the water. The minnows played around the stone with a qui\"er of their tiny bodies which fascinated the gazer. She stooped cautiously and tried to catch one in her hand, but sunshine on the pebbles was not more elusive. "Good morning, little girl," said a winning voice ; and the little girl jumped up, reeled, set one foot in the water, and brandished her reticule in the effort to regain her balance. The sugared butter-bread and sweet cookies tumbled against currant-pie and cher- ries, and all settled to an upside-down condition as she finally got on the bank and saw a gentleman pre- paring to trip across the stones. It was an uncommon thing to meet any one, and especially a stranger, on that long two-mile path to school. But it was a wonderful thing to meet such a grand stranger. She dropped a bobbing curtsy, and the gentleman, having crossed, stopped and smiled. He had glittering black eyes, and curly hair and whiskers, glittering teeth and boots, fine clothes, and altogether the look of a " town gentleman." "Whose little girl are you?" inquired this town Doctor Garde's Little Girl. 9 gentleman affably, rubbing the wet soles of his boots on the grass. Under the long slat sun-bonnet a round face blushed all about its blue eyes and quite back to its auburn hair, and a timid voice piped from the calico funnel : " I'm Doctor Garde's little girl." \ A (?)/ #)^«s; /#Ai*. gill 'biJ^- #^'S^ ' WHOSE LITTLE GIRL ARE YOU ? " "Ah! where does Doctor Garde live.'" "Right back there in that big house." "And who lives in this house I just passed ? " "Mrs. Banks. Her little girls go to school with me." "Yes. And where do you go to school ?" 10 Rocky Fork. " In the school-house 'way at the other side of the hills." " Oho ! many children go there ? " "All of 'em in our districk. There's Willeys', and Pancosts', and Harris', and Halls', and Banks', and Martins', and me, and my little sister's going when she gets big enough." " Yes. Well, thank you. I may call there in the course of the day. Does that path lead back to your school-house ? " "Yes, sir. But you must turn to the right at the big sand-banks, and cross the foot-log over Rocky Fork by Hall's mill." The gentleman nodded, and passed on smiling as Doctor Garde's little girl dropped him another curtsy. She skipped across the stones and hastened up rising ground to the Banks'. Theirs was a weather-beaten domicile, part log and part frame, with a covered stoop at one door on which Tildy sat plaiting her long hair preparatory to going to school. Tildy, it must be confessed, was a raw-boned girl, but with a low-browed, serious face. Her nature leaned to the solemn side of life, as her sister Teeny's leaned towards what was merry. Matilda liked to sit in the grass and dress her locks, or to watch from the door- step the rocks and glooms on each side of her home. Doctor Garde's Little Girl. ii Teeny appeared within, tying her bonnet, the string of her reticule across her arm. A bunch of old-fashioned pink roses was pinned to her dress, which hooked in front and was just long enough to sweep her heels when she walked. Teeny was a big girl who felt quite a young woman, since she was "going on" fifteen, ciphered in long division, and had finished a sampler with her name, " Christine Banks," embroidered under a beautiful piece of poetp.'. '"We're takin' curran'-pie for our dinner to- day, Melisby," announced Tildy solemnly as Dr. Garde's little girl ran up. "I got some, too," she responded with triumph. So little made a triumph in that region and time. "'Tain't sweetened with sugar.'' " 'Tis too ! I saw Liza put in heaps." She sat down on the steps and explored her reticule. There was rather a sorry mess in its depths, but the slices of bread were reduced again to their proper basis, and the other goodies piled carefully on them. "Why don't you call me Bluebell?" she suggested with a rather hopeless accent. "'Cause that ain't your name," said Tildy, strictly. "I guess my father always calls me that." " 'Tain't your name, anyhow. Your name is Me- lissy (ane Garde, goin' on eight years old." 12 Rocky Fork. "It's just Melissy," cried the younger, doggedly, as if she would like to disown that. " My mother called me Bluebell, too, and she's gone to heaven. I sh'd think you might call me what my mother called me." " Your name's Melissy," repeated Tildy, looking with undisturbed eyes upon the distance. Here the argument dropped, as it usually did. The defeated party turned to other things. " I pretty near fell in the run. The' was a man come along and scared me so. He was prettier than my father ! " e.xclaimed Melissa, pausing after this climax; "that is, dressed up prettier; and he said he was coming to school to-day. I wonder what he's coming there for?" "Prob'ly it's somebody the directors is sending to whip us,'' opined Matilda with serious resignation. "They say Mr. Pitzer ain't strict enough." "Oh, do you s'pose it is ? " cried the credulous little girl beside her. " I never got whipped at school vet." "Now, Tildy," exclaimed the pink-faced elder sister, stepping out, " if you don't hurry up we'll go on and lea\e you." "I think I'll stay at home," said Tildy, reflecting on the fine stranger's probable errand. "No, you won't," cried her mother's voice from an '3 Doctor Garde'' s Little Girl. 15 inner room, making a pause in the monotonous rattle of a loom ; and tliough it was a plaintive voice and not very decided, Tildy was moved by it to get her sun-bonnet and follow the other two. They were making a round of the garden, to gather pinks, holly- hocks, bouncing-betties, bachelor-buttons and aspar- agus sprays. Having tied up a bunch apiece, they left the house and began their root-matted and rocky ascent. There were levels above where the woods made a twilight at nbon, where ferns crowded to their knees, and some stood as high as their waists. Who could help stopping to inhale that breath which is no plant's but a fern's .-' "There's vinegar-balls on this oak," remarked Tildy, casting her eyes up as they passed under a dark-leaved tree. So, sticks and climbing being brought to bear upon the tree, one or two small ap- ple-shaped bunches were brought down to yield a tart juice to sucking lips. I do not pretend to say the balls were wholesome. But the same lips loved the white, honey-filled ends of clover-blossoms, ten- der sticks of sweet-briar when stripped of its skin, and they doted on " mountain-tea " a winter-green of three rich fleshy leaves, which clung all over these heights in fragrant mats. The three girls were lovers of Mother Outdoors. Melissa especially gloried in 1 6 Rocky Fork. the woods. The noble tree arches, the dew, and sweet earth-smell filled her with worshipping joy. It was so nice to be a little girl with a sun-bonnet hang- ing off her shoulders by the strings, and the great woods cooling her face, and sighing away off as if thinking up some song to sing to her ! In due course they came to three giant ridges of sand. These stood in a clear place, and nobody in that region troubled himself about the geological cause of their existence in the heart of the woods. There they were, too tempting to be resisted. Me- lissa dropped her reticule, Tildy seriously followed her example, and Christine forgot her dress hooking in front and her claims to big girlhood. All three mounted the dunes, sat down, gathered their clothing close about their feet, and shot down the sides as if on invisible sleds. This queer sort of coasting was great fun. ^^'hen it seemed expedient to adjourn, they shook the clean sand from their dresses, and the eldest and youngest untied their low shoes to turn them upside down. Matilda being barefoot and therefore free from such civilized cares, improved the time by taking an extra slide, which was too much for the other girls, so they tried it again. Thus the morning waxed later. So by the time they crossed the foot-log over Rocky Fork and ap- Doctor Garde's Little Girl. 17 proached the log school-house, "books" were ac- tually "taken up." The school-house was chinked with clay and had double doors which opened close beside a travelled road. The woods and heights rose behind it, and at one side a sweep of play-ground extended into a viney hollow where hung the grape-vine swing for which all the girls in school daily brought pocketfuls of string. CHAPTER II. MR. PITZER. CHRISTINE stepped over the threshold and dropped a curtsy which dipped her dress in the dust. Matilda followed and was taken with a similar convulsion on the same spot. Then the smallest bobbed violently ; all this homage being paid to a somewhat threadbare man who sat behind a high desk opposite the door. Continuous high desks on a raised platform ex- tended around the walls, and continuous benches ran in front of them. Here sat the elders of the school — the big boys and girls, with their backs to smaller fry who camped on long benches set along the middle of the floor, swinging their heels and holding spellers in their hands. The benches were made of split logs, the flat sides planed smooth, and iS Mr. Pitzer. 19 the round sides bored with holes into which legs were stuck; as these legs were not always even, boys at opposite ends of a bench could "teeter-totter" the whole row of urchins between them. There were no backs against which you might rest your shoulders, but any tired little fellow might lie down if he took his own risks about rolling off. There had been teachers who would not allow the muscles thus to relax. But Mr. Pitzer was a kind, soft-hearted old man, who, as Matilda has hinted, was not considered strict enough. He had taught the school many sea- sons. The directors said he might do for summer, but each winter they determined to engage some strap- ping modern pedagogue who could control the young men and wild young women who sallied knowl- edge-ward during the long term.. Still Mr. Pitzer was found in his place. He taught manners and morals as well as the common branches, and his sweet, severe face under iron-gl-ay hair became stamped on every mind that entered the double doors. The tardy pupils, unchallenged, hung their bonnets and dinner-bags on nails in the wall. Teeny took her big-girls' seat, and straightway lay flat on her desk in the agonies of writing a morning copy, while 20 Rocky Fork. the other two sat side by side on a bench murmuring the first reading-lesson. A hum Uke the music of many hives sounded all over the room. " D-i-s — dis, d-a-i-n, dain, disdain," crossed " in-com-pat-i-bil-i-ty ; " and the important scratching of slate-pencils in the hands of ciphering big boys, seemed to supplement a breathing and occasional sputter of quill pens. " Second Reader may stand up!" cried the master. Bluebell's class, including her tall friend Matilda, formed in a row in front of the master's desk, each holding his reader clinched before his face. A polished walnut ferule lay at Mr. Pitzer's hand, and the text-book sprawled on the desk. He wore spectacles of so slight an iron frame that the glasses seemed suspended miraculously between his stern eyes and the eyes turned up to him. Like a com- mander giving some military order, he now cried out: "Attention!" At the signal every girl dipped low and every boy bent forward with a bow. It would ha^■e been a mis- demeanor for the girls to bow and the boys to curtsy, and they knew it. Then the boy at the top of the class began to read in a voice which could be heard on the opposite side of the road ; he was followed by a timid little girl who put her nose close to the book and spelled and whispered ; and she in turn by a merry Mr. PUzer. 21 girl who had been put back from the Third Reader in one of the master's pets, for pronouncing ships wrecked, " shipses rick-ed." Very little did she care, for, knowing the Second Reader by heart, it was easy for her to rattle off the story of The Three Boys and the Three Cakes, with a moral. Bluebell read in a clear, sensitive, appreciative voice, and Tildy followed. They spelled the words which the master pronounced to them, and had another lesson set. The military order was then varied : " Obedience ! " At this they saluted as before, and took their seats. Business went on as usual. The large girls recited in smart, high voices, and the boys blundered in monotone, excepting little Jo Hall, who was such a mite of a fellow, yet so smart he knew almost as much as the master. Jo had ciphered farther into the jungles of arithmetic than anybody else, and could parse as fast as his tongue would run. He always had his atlas lessons, and some said had been clear through the geography, while his writing was so won- derful, the master sometimes let him set copies when he himself was very busy. " Somethin's the matter with the master this mornin','' whispered Tildy to Bluebell, as they wrig- gled around trying to rest their backs. 23 Rocky Fork. It was true. He stalked about with his hands under his coat-tails, sticking his under lip out. Even Jo Hall's grandiloquent rendering of Fourth Reader text could not draw his mind from some internal strain ; and after recess the trouble came out. Mr. Pitzer read the rules of the school. Whenever he had heard complaint, he brought out those pon- derous rules and visited them upon the pupils that they might know what he required of them, even if he did not exact it. Every listener, except the new or very dull ones, knew those rules by heart. They were written on tall cap sheets in the best of flourishes, and covered the whole dut}' of boy and girl. To-day the master read them with frowns and a sonorous voice. " Article Thirteenth ! " he thundered at last-; " Evi-ry boy or girl in going to or from school shall frcat with civility all persotis whom they meet upon the highway^ he or she making a bow or a curtsy as the case may be. It shall be a high misdemeanor to treat im- politely any stranger or strangers in the schoolroom, on the play-groHUil. or the highway." And here as if to test Mr. Pitzer's pupils in their behavior, a strange man did step over the threshold, taking off his hat as he did so. The schoolmaster stopped and glared. But Blue- Mr. Pitzer. 23 bell's heart came into her mouth. She felt unreason- ably terrified and trapped by fate. For it was the curly, glittering gentleman who had promised to come to the school-house, possibly on that dread errand suggested by Tildy — to whip the whole school ! CHAPTER III, THE GEOGRAPHY-SCHOOL TEACHER. MAY I have a few minutes' conversation with you ? " said the fine stranger to IVIr. Pitzer. The schoohnaster bowed stiffly, said " Certainly, sir," with some pomp, and came forward. He evidently felt distrust, not to sav hostility ; but after Article Thirteenth, he was bound to set the school an example in politeness. There was a stricture around Bluebell's heart while she watched them talking in low tones near the door. The stranger was pliant, eager and voluble. Oh, how he did want to get at them all with his stick ! Would Mr. Pitzer give them over to such shame and pain ! She reflected about the black ripe cherries in hei reticule, and wished she had propitiated the good old man by giving them to him at recess. The schoor 24 The Geography-school Teacher. 25 stopped droning, and held its breatl:, just as the earth does before a storm, to catch some liint of this collo- quy. Mr. Pitzer seemed more and more mellowed to the man's proposals. The curves of his stern face turned upwards ; he nodded his head at the end of every sentence ; and finally, leading the way to his high desk, he told the school that Mr. Runnels had something important to impart to them. Bluebell shut her eyes, and cowered. Little Jo Hall sat bolt-upright, and all the big scholars turned around on their seats. " He's going to begin with them on this bench," whispered Tildy to Bluebell. Mr. Runnels smiled with his teeth and picked up the ferule. Oh, how earth brightened again as his business un- folded ! The faint, worm-eaten odor of the glass- smooth bench which she clutched, seemed quainter to Bluebell than ever before. She had heard the Fourth Reader class sing out the tale of Ginevra ; and that chest, " carved by Antony of Trent,'' had just such an indescribable, pungent smell, she felt certain, as the desk and seats of this school-house. It had always given her a pleasant sensation ; it now added to her joy ; her heart expanded ; Mr. Runnels was a very nice man. He did not even hint that a school ought to be whipped wholesale ; Tildy Banks 26 Rocky Fork. didn't know anything about it. His errand was to organize a geograpliy- school ! " The method," said Mr. Runnels, " is altogether new. I have a fine and complete set of painted maps representing every part of the earth's surface, and the exercise of storing the mind with this important science is not only vastly improving, but novel and delightful. All of you speak to your parents. The charge is trifling, but the benefit will be lasting. Everybody is invited free to the organization of the school to-night at Harris' chapel west of this school- house. All the boys and girls and young people of the next district will be there. So don't fail to urge your parents to bring you. So many bright eyes," said Mr. Runnels with a charming smile — The school giggled with delight— — " so many intelligent faces, instructed by a wise, kind master — " Mr. Pitzer straightened his back and smiled around — — "must surely take an interest in this beautiful globe on which we live." Mr. Runnels went on and gave them a short lec- ture on geography. He told them anecdotes of that ignoramus who did not believe the world was round and turned on its axis, because, if this were The Geography-school Teacher. 27 the case, his father's mill-pond would spill all its water. The children laughed uproariously, though few of them had ever thought of the earth except as an expanse of rocks, trees and robe-like sward, cleft by the Rocky Fork. Mr. Pitzer and the geography teacher parted with ceremonious bows. The schoolmaster himself made a few cautious remarks to cool his own enthusiasm ; but the next class, which was the grave elders' arith- metic, constantly broke out with fractional questions about a different science. At last the sun had retreated from the middle of the floor to the very door-sill. By this token they knew it was high noon. Spellers were laid straight on the benches around the wall, desk lids were shut down over their miscellany. Eyes looked expectantly at the master, and all arms were folded. He uttered one magic word : " Dismissed ! " The school seemed to turn a complete summersault : every child projected himself like an arrow toward the door, whooping, singing, scampering and tum- bling. Chaos surged to the brown wooden joists. Some nimble little boys got on the desks and gal- loped around, while others slipped out through the windows, which were set sidewise instead of length- wise in the log walls, looking like windows that had 2 8 Rocky Fork. lain down to dream. The master, swinging a thick wooden cane, walked to liis house whicla was near. It might confer distinction to go home to one's din- ner, but this distinction was not courted even by chil- dren who lived in sight. Could anything be more delightful than that noon hour ! Was it only an hour — that time stuffed full of events as a month? It was the kernel of all day, at any rate. Bluebell and Tildy went to their playhouse to eat dinner. This summer residence was formed by a triplet of trees growing so close together as to form a deep alcove. The floor was carpeted thick with moss which Bluebell and Tildy changed every few days. They had some gnarly chairs, which you might have called chunks. Hanging their sun-bonnets up on scales of bark, they ate their dinners in society, much as foreign people attend the theatre. For all about them were similar boxes, or residences, whose occu- pants visited, and exchanged samples from each others' reticules, so what was cooked on one side of the district was tested on the other side. Amanda \\'illey and Perintha Pancost knocked at the bark door of Misses Garde and Banks, and were bidden to come right in and take chairs. The resi- dence being already comfortably full, however, and no chairs visible, they staid outside and took grass. The Geography-school Teacher. 29 which was far more comfortable. Tildy and Perintha swapped a fragment of cherry-pie and a bit of rather stale cake, while Amanda gave Bluebell a piece of her cheese for some cherries. These were grave transactions, each party examining what she received with due caution, excepting Bluebell, who was willing to fling her repast right and left without considering whether she got its equivalent or not. Amanda Willey was a large-faced, smiling girl with very smooth hair cut short around her neck. Over her ordinary dress she wore a long-sleeved pink sack, and a pink apron tied about the waist like a grown wo- man's. The costume was most pleasing in Bluebell's eyes. " I got a black-silk apron," she observed, smooth- ing and patting Amanda's drapery. I'm going to ask Liza to let me wear it to geography-school.'' " I'm going," exclaimed Perintha Pancost. "The man's to board at our house. He had his breakfast there." " I ain't,'' said Tildy. " He looks like a ras- kil. Mebby he's come down here to rob folks.'' The blue eyes, brown eyes and hazel eyes around her stood out at this suggestion. Tildy spoke as if her acquaintance with rascals was thorough. "I don't think that's very smart of you, Till Banks," 30 Rocky Fork. said Perintha, the "raskil's' hostess. "My pa and ma don't have robbers at our house. He's the pertiest kind of a man. I like him." " So do I," decided Bluebell with a sigh of relief. Her credulous nature had been staggered by Matilda. " I'll take my Noey's Ark book to read in at g'ography school." The boys, having swallowed their dinners, were already shouting at " Bull in the Pen," when the girls gathered to take turns at the swing. How sweet these allotted ten or a dozen rushes through the air were, with some swift-footed girl running under you to send you up among the branches ! The glee with which you grabbed a leaf, your slow reluctance in " letting the old cat die," and another succeed you I The number of games of " Black Man," " Poison," " Base," which can be crowded into one noon, has ne\-er been computed. Every muscle is strained, the hair clings to pink foreheads, lungs and hearts work like engines, and the outdoor world is too sweet to be given up when that rattle of the master's ferule against the window sash is supplemented by the stern call of " Books ! " Drenched in the dew of health, every little body rushed again to the hard benches. Bluebell told her- self she always liked afternoon, it seemed so short; The Geography-school Teacher. 31 and as the sun stooped lower and lower, a lump of homesickness grew in her for the old weather-stained house, her father's return from his daily rounds, and the baby's tow head and black eyes which were sure to meet her at the lower bars. Then there was the spelling-class which crowned every day's labor. Or- thography may not be the most important element of education, but Bluebell thought it was, and she had a genius for it. While Tildy swung sleepy legs. Blue- bell mentally counted her own " head-marks," and speculated on what the master's offered prize might be at the end of the term. Classes succeeded each other, and the sweet dream-producing hum went on, until Bluebell found herself again going triumph- antly " down foot," having scored still another head- mark. Then the roll was called, while reticules, bonnets and caps were slyly gathered off their pegs and passed from hand to hand, that no one might keep the others waiting. Jo Hall responded to his name with a shout, while Amanda Willey's voice could scarcely be heard ; some pupils answered " half a day ; " and for others there was a hurried cry of " absent," not always cor- rect, as in the case of John Tegarden, who shook fist and head many times at Jo Hall for shouting absent to his name when he was there in the body. Jo 32 Rocky Fork. clucked his shoulders, and intimated by lifting his eyebrows, grimacing and nodding, that this was an oversight on his part. And John was obliged to carry his grievance outdoors, as he was the first boy on his bench. Dinner-bag and cap in hand, he stopped at the door to scrape and say " good-evening ! " to the master, receiving a stately " good-evening " in return. Thus one by one they filed out, each child stopping to make that grave salutation, until the master was free to close the double doors and fasten them with chain and padlock. It was more than two hours till sunset ; but there were long shadows in the woods, and an evening coolness was stealing over the beautiful earth. The Rocky Fork foaming over boulders or spread- ing into still pools at the feet of leaning trees, shaded, variable, but clear as spring water, cut the home path in two, and was spanned by a foot-log. The wheel of Hall's mill turned lazily here, and the mill-race made Bluebell's brain unsteady. Not so the shady pebbles in the stream. She sat and watched them after crossing until Tildy's voice up the ascent gave her warning to hurry. All the country was in that afterglow of sunset when she reached the pasture-bars behind the house. And of course there was the little sister at the bars, The Geography-school Teacher. 33 her curly tow hair dovetailed at the back, her black eyes spread and both white claws clinging around the wood. " Some tump'ny's turn ! " she cried. CHAPTER V. COMPANY. THE announcement that there was company did not prevent Bluebell from climbing the bars and giving Rox\- a warm hug, but rather added strength to the embrace. " You little darling, it's been so long since I saw you ! Ear-ly this morning sisser went away. Who's come? Hope it isn't somebody that'll keep us from playing and having a good time." The tow-headed sister spread her nervous little hands and attempted description while trotting along. " Lady with turls : nice, nice lady! " " Is father home ? " "No." " Doesn't Liza know who she is ? " " No. Liza sa\', ' Take off \our fings. Doctor be home pretty soon.' " 34 Company. 37 " Oh ! It's somebody to be doctored." " It's tump'ny !" urged Rocco. " We goin' to have pkim p'serves for supper." This settled it. Liza was a discriminating house- keeper who did not regale calling patients with her best preserves. The doctor's house was also his office where people came for medicines or treatment, and the Rocky Forkers were willing to make it a free hotel ; but Liza was not. Liza had been spinster mistress of the house for twenty-five years. Her mother died only the }-ear before her cousin Doctor Garde and his orphans came, and the short, plump, merry, quick old maid had taken care of her mother for a long time. She liked taking care of people. It was really for the privilege of taking care of the children that she rented her premises to her cousin. He came with two babies, and a new medical diploma to build up a practice among the hills, and threw himself entirely into work, leaving Liza to bring up the children as she saw best. She was a woman with a wholesome soul, and they all got on comfortably. While she thought the doctor remarkable in his profession, and felt pride in his cases and cures, outside of that, being considerably his senior, she took the attitude of a protecting aunt. 38 Rocky Fork. To-night the children saw her standing in the bacl< door, loolcing comely and important, her black hair sleeked down to her cheeks. "M'lissy," she exclaimed — for when Liza was anxious or grave, slie called the child by her real name — " go into m)- room and put on your blue calico, and your white stockings and slippers. I'll come and braid your hair.'' "Who's come, Liza ? " " It's some of your kin. Mind, now, don't go through the sitting-room." Then Bluebell knew that the awful presence was there. She walked on tiptoe past the closed door, Rocco at her heels, and slipped up the staircase to that half nursery, half bedroom, which the children occupied with Liza. It contained some of their mother's furniture: a mahogany chest of drawers, bulging in front ; a stuffed rocking-chair in which Bluebell told the little sister stories ; a crib, and a trundle-bed which was not pushed under Liza's white- valanced and quilt-covered four-poster, but stood under a window that the cherry-boughs scraped. The room was whitewashed as fair as a lily, even to the hewed wood joists. Liza's dresses hung on nails along the wall, and Bluebell's hung beneath in a row which she could reach Company. 39 Her heelless slippers and fine open-work stockings came out of the chest of drawers ; and she was soon struggling to hook the blue calico, but ineffectually, when Liza came up like a breeze, brushed and braided her hair in two short tails, tied the tails with yellow brocaded ribbon from her own ribbon-box, and looked her over approvingly. " Now don't forget your curchy," she admonished. " Come here, Rocky : let me braid your hair, 100, while I'm about it." Rocky demurred, but it was no use. Her lint locks were swiftly made into two tiny strands and also tied across with yellow ribbon, giving her an ancient and grotesque appearance. The children trod down- stairs a step at a time, hand in hand. Bluebell trem- bling with bashful self-consciousness. It choked her voice and made her dizzy when she entered the sit- ting-room, so that she stumbled on a strip of the home-woven carpet laid loose upon the floor. There were a few chairs, including one gilt-ornamented rocker, and a case of the Doctor's books, in the sit- ting-room ; and nothing more ; for the guest in white curls was on the porch looking up the amphitheatre of woods surrounding her. She was certainly a great lady. Her dress of plum- colored poplin had a long pointed waist ; she wore a 40 Rocky Fork. broad embroidered collar turned over ribbon, and just as the children appeared, put a large, open-faced gold watch back into its pocket. Her hair was coiled on the top of her head and fastened with a shell comb, two full curls being left at each side of the forehead. Bluebell felt overwhelmed when this lady turned her delicate face from the hills and reached two trans- parent hands toward the country children. Bluebell made her obeisance, and the lady seemed pleased with the conscientious gravity with which she did it. "Don't you know me? " said this lady, pressing a hand of each child. " No, ma'am." " I am Miss Calder. Your father has told you about me ? I became responsible for you when )'ou were an infant, and you received my name, Me- lissa." Bluebell searched her memory painfully. She was very anxious to know her namesake, who seemed the daintiest woman alive ; but having no recollection of the matter herself, she was forced to admit she did not know she had one. " I s'pose father forgot to tell me," she observed, bringing forward the best excuse she could think of for him. Company. 41 "I dare say," said Miss Calder. "He has not been the same man since your mother died." The fair old lady began to tremble. She took a handker- chief out of the beaded reticule hanging to her arm, and, hugging Bluebell to her, cried for several min- utes with an agitation which shook them both. Blue- bell was much embarrassed. She felt that she ought to be very sorry, and heaved several deep sighs ; but the pain in her nose, which Miss Calder was squeezing against the watch-case, kept her from fully giving her- self up to grief, and it was probably just as well, as she had a whole lifetime in which to miss her mother. The rose-leaf maiden lady dried her eyes, and sat down with the children, one on each side of her. "Are you 'sponsible for Rocco, too?" " No. I do not know who named her. Your parents were living in another place at that time, and your mother died soon after her birth. I have not seen you since you were a babe in arms. Your mother was a very lovely woman." " We've got a daguerreotype of her." " Indeed ! will you let me see it ? " " Father will when he comes. He keeps it locked in his desk drawer. I took it to school one day to show to the scholars, 'cause Printhy Pancost said she 42 Rocky Fo7-k. knew my mother wasn't pretty, and he said I musn't take it any more." The fair lady smiled slightly, and said again, " In- deed ! " This appeared to be a polite word which she uttered without the least emotion, merely to indi- cate that she was listening. " \^'hat do you study at school ? " " Reading and spelling. I'm in the Second Reader. We've read as far as the 'Three Boys and the Three Cakes,' and we're spelling in ' A-ba^e.' I could spell over to ' In-com-pat-i-bil-i-ty,' but the rest can't And there's going to be a g'ography school, and I'll ask father to send me.'' " Indeed. You are very smart in your studies, Melissa. Little Roxana doesn't go to school ?'' '' No, ma'am." Here little Roxana, unwilling to be presented to company as totally unaccomplished, rubbed her long fingers over the lady's watch-guard and asserted herself : " I can sing at the foonerals ! " Bluebell felt disconcerted. She feared to shock the rose-leaf guardian ; but Rocco took no notice of her signal to drop the subject. " I can sing ' Back any more.' and ' Cap in a father's hand.' " To prove which the baby began at once and sang in a clear, bold voice : Company. 43 " This is the way I long have sought, I neva' turn back any more : And mourned a-tause I foun' it not, I neva' turn back any more : Away the holy proph-ups went, I neva' turn back any more : The road 't leads from bam-shum-ment, I neva' turn back any more ! " " Why, indeed ! " exclaimed Miss Calder. But, like a wound-up musical box, changing her tune, Rocco went on : " There is a happy land, Far, far away : There saints and glory stand, Bright, bright as day. Caps in a father's hand. Love cannot die." " I know ' Jucy-crucy-fide-him,' too." "She means 'The Jews, they crucified Him,'" said Bluebell. " I sing it to the white chicken's fooneral, and the black chicken's fooneral, and the speckled chicken's fooneral." "You see," said Bluebell, hot in the face, but con- strained to answer the raised eyebrows of this lady 44 Rocky Fork. who probably never pulled off shoes and stockings or rolled down a sand-bank, or so much as looked at a dead chicken, when she was a little girl, " we got a little graveyard. And there were so many pretty little chicks died. And Liza lets us take the fire shovel. We dig a nice little hole and fence it all round with sticks in the bottom, and wrap the chicky up ; then we 'tend like this porch was the church, and we sing and have a funeral like they did when Mary Jane Willey died — I just preach about what a good chicken it was," stammered Bluebell ; "and then we 'tend like we're cryin' and put it in our box that we pull with a string, and have a percession to the grave." She became so interested in the description that she ended with some gusto. Miss Calder put her handkerchief to her lips, shak- ing a little, and Bluebell felt afraid she was going to cry again. "Isn't that an unhealthy kind of play?" she finally asked. "Oh no, ma'am — the chickens is just as clean!" " But your feelings are so disturbed." " We just let on we feel bad. We got ten chickens buried, and headstones and footstones to 'era all. We enjoy ourselves so much ! " Miss Calder's smile now escaped from the Company. 45 handkerchief and ran up her delicate shrivelled face. " I have something for you in my trunk which may amuse you in a different way." So saying the lady rose and rustled into the sitting-room, where in one corner stood a small, round-lidded hair-trunk just as the driver from the station had left it. She opened this with a key from her reticule, while Bluebell and Roxana stood one at each end of it, their hands be- hind them and their pulses beating with expectation. A scent of lavender and rose-leaves came from under the cover. Miss Calder lifted musky robes of lawn, dazzling white embroidered garments, and her cap and bonnet-box out, before she came to certain pack- ages which she methodically unwrapped. Bluebell swallowed several times, and the little sister opened her mouth. The first thing which came to sight was a string of blue and white beads braided in a rope ; that Miss Calder tied around Rocco's honored neck. Then fol- lowed a rattle and whistle, also for Rocco, whom the good lady had evidently pictured to herself as yet an infant. But when two flat packages revealed themselves, "Tales from Catland" in red and gold and " Stories from Roman History " in black, flexible backs. Bluebell felt unspeakably rich. This was, after all, a comparative state. The superlative was 46 Rocky Fork. reached when the last bundle of all came out of sev- eral newspapers and folds of tissue paper. There were some glimpses of pink gauze, the unmistakable presence of small gaitered feet, then the actual dawn- ing of rosy face and flaxen hair. " Here's a wax-doll for you," said Miss Calder, making the presentation as if wax dolls were a com- mon addition to every well-regulated little girl's family. This was the first of that particular class of dolls the children had ever seen. Several cheap ladies with broken heads were lying about the house ; for when- ever the Doctor made a journey he brought one of the children a doll and the other a book — the books being always histories, or solid sciences. Bluebell, I must confess, was too much an out-door child to be a tender mother of dolls. But this beau- tiful creature with real hair, woke rapture in her. Her breath came short when she thanked the new friend. The splendor of such a possession made her ashamed of her unmaternal care over the plainer dollies who had fallen one by one into Rocco's un- tutored hands. " What will you call her ? " " I think the prettiest name in the world is Georgi- ana," said Bluebell, hesitating. If this darling must Company. 47 be called Melissa it seemed more than she could stand ! " That suits her very nicely," agreed the fair maiden lady. Bluebell was emboldened to go up closer and make her lips into an expectant bud. ' You want to kiss me, do you ? " said Miss Calder, smiling ; so she inclined her cheek towards the bash- ful, eager little face, and Bluebell felt as if she had kissed a white hollyhock's yielding petal. " I have some pretty pieces to make Miss Georgi- ana more clothes. Do you know how to sew .' ' " I can hem a little, but it sticks my finger." " Have you begun a sampler yet ? " " No, ma'am. But Liza's going to start one for me. Teem- Banks has got one done, but she's a young woman." A well-known, ringing neigh came from the lane which led through woods from the main road. " That's Bailie ! Father's at the bars. I'll go and tell him you're come." Father had flung himself out of the saddle, and the slender-legged, delicate Arabian mare followed him into her stable. Her chestnut coat had the richness of satin. She had one white stocking and a white face, pink, sensitive nostrils and an arching neck. She had been known to do marvels of speed, to 48 Rncky Fork. breast swollen streams, to pick her way carefully around dangerous cliffs in the darkest night. She and her master moved together like one of the old sylvan Centaurs ; but if Bluebell climbed her back, as she sometimes did, the Arabian stepped as gently as a nurse. Accustomed to her father's habits. Bluebell waited on the barn floor until he stabled the pretty creature. She still held Miss Georgiana carefully in her arms. He came out, unfastened his leggings, and hung them in their usual place. His face was square, serious and sweet. His light hair hung below his high stand- ing collar. He was a young man, scarcely thirty, and so lovable when he got into the arms of his chil- dren. Still, Bluebell had been taught not to address him by the diminutive of papa. His own bringing- up had been austere, inclining to plain, strong words like father, mother, children. " See what I got ! " cried his little girl. Father lifted her up, doll and all, relaxing into a smile. " Where did you get that ? " " Father, Miss Calder has come. And she brought Rocco some beads and me some books, and Rocco a whistle, and me a doll, and she's got a gold watch and white curly hair! Oh, I'm so glad ! And may I Company. 49 go to g'ography school to-night ? There's a man going to teach in the church." Father put her down and took her hand. " When did she come ? " he inquired as they walked towards the house. " Before I got home from school. I guess a man brought her. And, father," advised Bluebell, confi- dentially, " don't say anything to her about mother, for if you do, she'll burst out a-crying ! " Ha looked down at the auburn head with wistful eyes. It occurred to her afterwards that grown people seemed to pay little attention to what children said ; for when she came in with Rocco to supper, father was showing Miss Calder the daguerreotype, and she was crying in her web-like handkerchief. Bluebell heard her say, " She was like a daughter to me." The Doctor sat with his head on his hand. But Bluebell was prevented from witnessing their meeting by Roxana's singular behavior. This lint- locked damsel stood beside the house, her hands locked behind her. The whistle and rattle lay de- spised upon the earth, though her beads still hung beneath her sulking chin. Bluebell's heart misgave her. But she tried persuasion. " Darling, don't you want to go and help sisser ■^.^^J Ji-^-'Vai^'^-*-^' ' GEORGIAN \. I GOT JUST 0\E ROC K ET V-POPPE RTV. Company. 53 She held the disturbing Georgiana aloft. "Georgiana," said the elder sister, "I got just one little Rockety-popperty, and I love her and hug her, and our mother's dead, so we're half-orphans. And we play together and have the best times ! Buryin' chickens and all." Rocco's long fingers twisted nervously, and one full tear splashed on the toe she was scowling at. " And now a good friend's come, and brought you, and my little sister's got mad ! It makes me feel so bad I don't want to play ! You can just stay here under this tree. I'm goin' off in the woods or some place. And our company will want to knovsT what's become of me, and folks will say, ' she went off and lay down like the babes in the woods 'cause her sister didn't love her any more ! ' " Roxana uttered a mournful whoop. Her heart broke under its heavy weight, and the freshet washed over her face. " /ain't mad, B'uebell," she surrendered, piteousJy. They flew and caught each other in a tight embrace, Bluebell stooping to the baby. " I do love you any more ! " " You old darling ! " " Don't go off to the woods ! " Rocco was such a delicious little sister in her melt- 54 Rocky Fork. ing moments, so wet-eyed, so tremulous in the breast, clinging with such loving arms, that the least pliable person could not resist her. sum k UlLICIOUS LITTLE SISTEK! " No, I won't go off to the woods, honey-dew,'' vowed Bluebell. "You can have my eggs in the rob — rob — robin's nest," hiccupped Rocco, who in the triumph of affection gave up all things. Company. 55 " And you can be Georgiana's mother, and I'll be her grandmother ! Then you'll own her too, and I won't be givin' her away ! " This flash of Bluebell's genius fused the whole difficulty. Rocco's tears were carefully wiped off on the wrong side of her apron. A smile like the brightness after rain spread from her black eyelashes all over her face, a reflection of the smile Georgiana had been so steadily bestowing on her small maternal relative, her grandparent, the dark, weather-beaten house, the cherry-trees, and all animate and inanimate nature. CHAPTER V. THE GEOGRAPHY SCHOOL. AFTER supper Miss Calder professed herself very much fatigued ; so Liza showed her at once to the best room, and Doctor Garde, before setting out on a night ride, carried her trunk into it. This gorgeous apartment was situated on the ground fioor, opening directly from the sitting-room ; and as the rest of the family slept up-stairs, the timid lady felt an unacknowledged chill running down her spine. She considered that she had come into a wild and uncivilized region, and remembered the brigand-like workmen at the Furnace who seemed to regard her with curiosity. _ " Are you not afraid, alone with the children, when Doctor Garde is gone ? " she asked Liza, while laying out her toilet-set. " Oh no, I never think of such a thing. Mother 56 The Geography School. 57 and me lived here alone so long. They say it is un- safe over in the Harris neighborhood. But nobody ever tried to break into this house." A screech-owl screamed, and Miss Calder shud- dered. These spinster ladies were very polite to each other, but they really stood in social opposi- tion. " She's used to fine living, and she'll think this is no place to bring up the children," was Liza's secret fear. "The children seem healthy and happy enough," was Miss Calder's silent comment, " but they never will learn manners here. Maurice must be roused and reminded of his duty to them." There was a fire-place in the spare bedroom, now filled with asparagus and roses set in a huge blue pitcher. The toilet-stand was covered with ruffled dimity. The bed-valance was also of ruffled dimity, and a mountain of feather-beds, dressed in the best linen and showiest quilts the house afforded, offered Miss Calder repose. Liza had once been to Freder- ick-town, and she flattered herself she knew how town- folks fixed their company rooms. A chest on legs and a brass-knobbed bureau stood in opposite cor- ners. The flowered bowl and pitcher would be eagerly seized by china-fanciers in these days. A 58 Rocky Fork. long gilt-framed glass, with a gaudy landscape at the top of it, was shrouded in gauze, like the face of a Turkish wife. On each paper blind was represented a colossal vase of flowers, so gorgeous that real roses were put almost out of countenance by them. And the chairs were all wooden seats instead of split-bot- tom, and had gilding on their backs. On the wall was a framed certificate of Liza's church-membership ; and the plaster-of-Paris images of a cat and a parrot ornamented opposite ends of the mantel, while "Little Samuel" knelt pacifically between them. " There's no lock on the door that opens on to the porch,'' bustled Liza, "but you needn't be afraid. Nobody could open that door without waking you." Miss Calder saw this door with cold perspira- tion, and thought of her cozy upper chamber at home, and her two bell-ropes which on the instant would arouse Maria and the man. But she smiled as pleasantly as possible, while thinking, " My nerves will not bear such a strain long." Liza wished her good-night, and went to put the baby to bed, and attend to her milking. The cows were at the lower bars, waiting in con- tent. Night had not fairly set in, for twilight lingers so long among the hills. There was dead blackness The Geography School. 59 up the pine slopes, but an after-glow along the valley. Bluebell sat on the fence watching these bovine mothers. She had called them from the other side of the run, with long intonations : " Su-kee ; Pi- dey ! Ro-see ! Su-ukee ! "' Pidey's bell had tinkled accompaniment, recording their progress on the way. Now it dingled down the opposite hill with such a clamor that Bluebell could fancy the knock-kneed trot of both cows ; and now it thumped as they plunged into the run ; then it wandered along, paus- ing over some very sweet bunch of grass, jerking at a mouthful of sweet-briar, and finally coming to the bars in perfect marching time : " te-ding, te-ding, te-ding, a-ding, ding." Bluebell had never heard an organ or an orchestra. She thought that cow-bell in the dim landscape, with echoes coming back from the hills, the most softening music in the world. The sound brought with it a smell of roses, of grass after rain, and clover. But another sound now attracted her ear, and she turned on the fence. Bailie was neighing at the up- per bars. The doctor had one foot in the stirrup and was rising to his seat when his daughter's voice burst out in appeal : " O father, won't you please take me to g'ography school ? " 6o r^ocky Fork. She clung panting to the fence. " The whole school's goin*, and it's only to Harris' chapel !" He felt very tender toward his children this evening, though he thought himself always too indulgent. " But I haven't time to take out the buggy now." " Can't I ride behind you, father? I'm all dressed up 'cept my Sunday flat." " Well, run and get it then, I can leave 3'ou a', the chapel, and pick you up when I come back. Tell Liza to pin a shawl around you." Bluebell was presently climbing to a seat behind the Arabian's saddle, and holding around her father as they trotted away. Her mother's black-silk, heav- ily fringed shawl was pinned tightly under her chin. It must be confessed that Liza had not seen her wrapped. Liza was with the baby, and Bluebell knew she would put the horrible old broche around her — a wrap beautiful in its time, but now as old as Liza's self, and much the worse for wear. So the damsel knocked hastily at Miss Calder's door, to gain access to the chest within. Miss Melissa opened it with some hesitation lest it were an early housebreaker. She had on a flowered dressing-gown and was brushing out her puffs. " I only want to get my shawl out of the chest," said the little girl, and she hurried to lift the heavy lid. JiRUSHING OUT HER PUFFS. The Geography School. 63 " Are you going out, my dear ? " " Father's goin' to take me to g'ography school." " To geography school ? " "Yes, ma'am. I'm to ride_ behind him on Bailie, and he'll leave me at the door, and call for me when he comes back. It will be such fun ! " Miss Melissa looked as if she hardly thought so. Her inward comment was, " Dear me ! how negligent and ignorant of a mother's duty a man is ! " Bluebell dragged out the heavy embroidered black shawl, and ran with it. Thfe silk apron was not at- tainable ; but this royal garment and her " flat " were more than she had hoped for. The " flat " was a brown crimped straw with flopping brim, tied under the chin — a head-covering for Sunday. It was quite an adventure to be going towards that unknown delight of geography school, behind on Bailie, who, though kind, curvetted and begged to know why she was asked to do double duty like any old hack. They rode by the skirts of the pines, and down a knotty, steep wagon road, over the bridge of the run to the cross-roads. Lights from various cabins twinkled along their way. The horse's hoofs struck the county thoroughfare which led past the school- house, but paused at a small white building, and 64 Rocky Fork. here Bluebell alighted. Her mind had been too busy for talk, and her young, grave father, occupied also, whistled under his breath all the way. It made her feel sad to hear father whistle so — it was like the far-off sigh of the pines. " I'll stop for you," he said as he cantered off. Harris' chapel was lighted ; and through its two open doors you could see it was crowded. Its gable- end was towards the road, and a flight of wooden steps led up to each door. Bluebell entered on the "women's side." No kind of meeting could be held in the building which would make it proper for these doors to be used indiscriminately. All the men and boys entered at one door, all the women and girls at the other ; a certain partition in the benches sepa- rated the house into two sides, one of which was com- posed of bonnets, and the other of bare heads having the hair cropped around their ears. But never had the chapel presented so enjoyable a sight to Bluebell's eyes as now. She liked the nine- o'clock Sunday-school, and even the sermon, though the minister always pounded and the echoes of his voice made your ears ache : but when the windows were open such pleasant air came in, the children looked so nice in their Sunday clothes, and their mothers so peaceful, and even ugly old Mr. Harris The Geography School. 65 seemed quite pleasant, when he started the singing, keeping time with his foot, and rolling out cheerfully : "Come, let us anew Our journey pursue, Roll round with the year, And never stand still Till the Master appear." But to-night the whitewashed walls glistened under tallow candles stuck in tin sockets at regular inter- \als around them, besides those lights in the great chandeliers made of cross-pieces of wood pierced with holes. At the pulpit-end of the room, large maps covered the wall ; and below them stood Mr. Runnels with a long pointer in his hand. The seats seemed filled to overflowing with ever}'body for miles around, as Bluebell tiptoed up the aisle. The flat flopped and the fringed shawl trailed. Some one put out a hand and pulled her, and she found Perintha Pancost had squeezed a seat for her, which she thankfully took, settling her little blushing face into the mass. She found Mandy Willey on the other side of her. Mandy Willey had on the black-silk apron, and her white sun-bonnet. She had also a pocketful of fresh mountain-tea, which she divided with the other girls. fu) Rocky Fork. " What did you wear your flat for ? " whispered Perintha disparagingly. " Take it off ! " Her school bonnet lay in her lap, and she looked comfortable. " I shan't do it," whispered back Bluebell with some asperity. " My maw has an old shawl like that," added Pe- rintha, fingering the fringe. " Your maw ! " retorted Bluebell, stung by the im- plied stricture when she thought herself looking her grandest. She concentrated all her scorn on the soft diminutive. " I'd say mother ! " " Humph ! " snuffed Perintha. " Miss Calder's come," continued Bluebell in a dignified fashion. " She's a town-lady. She brought me a doll with real hair that you can comb out, like mine.'' " I don't care if she has," retorted Perintha. " My cousin in Frederick has two dolls nearly as big as I am, and both of them has hair ! " So they might have gone on, trying to outshine each other in lustre borrowed from their friends and relatives, much as grown people do, had not Mr. Run- nels now claimed everybody's attention. He gave a brief, plain lecture on the divisions of the earth's sur- face. Then selecting the map of North America, he requested the best singers to take their places on The Geography School. 67 front seats. Old Mr. Harris, who had come to keep a proper check on proceedings, felt touched and com- plimented by this appeal. He always led church singing; so, tip-toeing officiously about, he weeded out a laughing girl here and an awkward young man there, in some other place a middle-aged farmer who was noted for bass, or a matronly shrill-voiced sister who responded with reluctance, and placed them in array, himself at the head, good-naturedly ready to lend his influence to education. Then Mr. Runnels turned to the old schoolmaster who sat smiling and prominent on a chair brought down from the high pulpit, and begged that the school- children might be brought forward. Upon this, Mr. Pitzer tiptoed along the aisles, summoning this one and that one of his flock and ranging them behind the front row, where the heads of some scarcely reached above the high backs of the seats. Bluebell felt important and excited, and regretted having left behind her Noah's Ark book, which she had proposed to herself as a text-book to the maps. Perintha and Mandy forgot to munch mountain-tea. Little Jo Hall set beside the master, on the men's side, the master secretly proud of this boy's quick mind and alert manner, though pretending to be oblivious to 68 Rocky Fork. them lest parents of other children present might say he "showed partiality." The geography-teacher explained the map, and old Mr. Harris was the first to go up and " point out " different countries. He made mistakes and chirped pleasantly over them, but encouraged one or two blushing girls to follow him, and a lumbering boy who was so frightened when the pointer was placed in his hand that he could not tell land from water. Then little Jo Hall stepped forward and covered himself all over with glory ; he had the countries so thoroughly by heart that nobody could puzzle him, though John Tegarden confusedly called for "Russian Central." The master smiled furtively around while he took off his glasses and rubbed them. But now the beauty of a geography-school came into full play. The improvised orchestra was in- structed to lift up its voice and sing off the map while Mr. Runnels indicated each country with the pointer. The melody was a sort of chant, but it was a lively chant, and every rustic took it up with enjoy- ment : " Greenland, a desolate and barren region, Greenland, a desolate and barren region ! " Russian America, New Archangel, Russian America, New Archangel. The Geography School. 69 " British America has no capital, British America has no capital. "United States, Washington, The government's republican : United States, Washington, The government's republican. " Mexico, Mexico city, Mexico, Mexico city. " Central America, New Guatemala, Central America, New Guatemala." It sounded so wonderfully learned. These geo- graphical names were caught up with gusto b\' every- body in the house except a few quiet old folks who respected "good learning," but felt that their day was too far advanced to attempt it. In short, the geography-teacher and his method made an excellent impression ; and when he called a recess that " sign- ers '' might come forward and enroll themselves in his classes, as future lessons would be given with closed doors, a majority of all present were put upon his lists. Even Mr. Pitzer joined the adult class ; not that he had anything to learn in the science of geography ; but he said he always liked to throw his influence on the right side. " Ain't your paw going to send you ? " inquired 7© Eocky Fork. Perintha of Bluebell. Perintha was promenading with the air of a proprietress, just because the geog- raphy-teacher boarded at her house ! " 'Course he is," exclaimed Doctor Garde's little girl, anxious for his return ; " he always wants me to learn everything I can." She stood on a bench and stretched up to one of the high windows to peer in the direction he had taken. The boys and girls trooped in and out enjoy- ing their recess ; the elderly people gathered in groups ; and she felt quite left out and behind the fashion, until little Jo Hall called her attention. " Bluebell Garde, your father wants you." " Where is he ? " she asked, scrambling down. " He's up there talking to Mr. Runnels. I guess he's signin' for you." He had enrolled her name and paid the fee, in an absent way, but he did not seem greatly impressed by the smiling geography-teacher. " The children's class will meet on Saturday after- noons," said Mr. Runnels. "Your little girl seems to have a wonderful mind. She has learned the map of North America already." He said this, drawing his breath over his teeth and bowing in a way which made Bluebell uncomfortable, " it seemed so affected " — she had heard Liza speak The Geography School, 71 of " affected people " with such condemnation that they seemed next door to criminals. The young father looked down at her, possibly flattered by this tribute to his child's talents. " She needs holding back instead of urging for- ward," he said briefly ; and taking her hand, he nodded adieu to Mr. Runnels. " Can't I stay till it's out, father ? " begged Blue- bell, trotting by his side as he stalked out, his old patients right and left greeting him. No. He had another call to make on the way home, and had no time for the geography-school. So she was obliged to console herself, as they can- tered along, with rehearsing the chant which meant in her ears a triplet of gruesome sounding names for one country : " Greenland, a des-o-late and barren region !" They drew up at Ridenour's gate. Her father went in, with his black-leather medicine-cases called '' pill- bags " over his arm, merely throwing the Arabian's bridle over a post. Bluebell crept forward into the saddle, and began to stroke the mare's soft neck. She put her foot into the strap above the stirrup and took a firm seat, imagining herself flying at full gal- lop. It would have frightened Miss Melissa beyond J 2 Rocky Fork. expression to see her in this unprotected, perilous plight. Suddenly the flat did flop with violence, and she found herself clinging with all her might to the plung- ing Arabian's mane. " I want you !" said the rough voice of a man, ap- pearing through the darkness. CHAPTER VI. THE NARROWS AND MARY ANN FURNACE. OH ! " added the man, frightened to see such a little shape cling to the plunging horse, " I thought it was the doctor." The doctor was fortunately making a short call ; and he now appeared to quiet the still snorting creature. " I held on tight, father ! " said his little girl, trembling in every nerve. " I didn't mean to scare anything," apologized the furnace-man with some compunction, though with his own anxiety and errand uppermost ; " but I saw the horse, like you was startin' away and I wanted to stop you. We've had an accident down to the Furnace. I went in to your place, but Liza said you'd gone this way, so I come along expectin' to meet you. Eli Ridenour fell over the Narrows." 73 74 Rocky Fork. " I'll come," said the Doctor. " Is he at the Furnace ? ' " Yes, sir." " Well, you go in and tell the family. Cautiously, mind ; his mother isn't strong yet. And have them send a wagon with plenty of bedding to bring him home." The furnace-man entered the house without cere- mony, according to the custom of the country, and Doctor Garde swung himself again into the saddle, taking his little girl this time before him. " You ought to be in bed," he observed as they flew up the slope. " Guess I better let you down where the lane turns off. You can run along then, can't you ? " Run along that dark lane, half a mile in length, through blackness, all alone ! Fathers are not mothers ; and this father, though the tenderest in intention, was so accustomed to heroic methods himself, tliat he did not realize what terror his proposition held for his little girl. " Don't make me get off," she pleaded, patting his shaven cheek. She thought of Billy Bowl. It is impossible to explain how this mythical character could haunt her after dark. He was a monster of ingratitude in a story, and Bluebell had a greater The Narrows and Mary Arm Furnace. 75 horror of him than of any other image her mind could call up. Billy Bowl was a bow-legged fellow who slipped into a pit : there he lay bellowing for help — Bluebell could fancy his hoarse cries — until some good man came along and pulled him out. It was easy to picture this excellent person reaching into the pit and taking hold of Billy's repulsive hand. And being pulled out, what did the bow-legged Billy do? He turned around — -how strongly the case was stated in that ! -^ he turned around and pushed in the man who pulled him out ! Many a night Blue- bell wished Billy Bowl had been left in the pit ! Many a time did she regret Liza had ever told her the story. She believed him always abroad, an element of evil on the air ! She could not tell any grown person about it. Father would laugh, and show the absurd- ity of the fancy. Father had not the slightest idea that his little girl nursed any Bugaboo or felt her flesh creep at braving Billy Bowl the whole length of that lane ! With a shade of disapproval, however, he did observe : " I hope my little girl isn't a coward ? " Fear of Billy Bowl and general cowardice were two distinct things in Bluebell's mind. " 'Course I'm not ! " she answered with direct truth. " Didn't I hold tight and not get throwed off ? 76 Rocky Fork. And I didn't scream, either. But do take me along, you never took me to see any patients. 1 like to go with you, father,'' confessed Bluebell, half-ashamed to I'eveal how much she enjoyed his society. And she added, patting his shaven cheek again : "Little father! " " Little father " was not displeased by the caress. He kissed her on the forehead, and thought what a companion she would grow to be for him. They cantered past the turning off of their lane. The road soon required all his attention. They entered what was known about Rocky Fork as the Narrows : a shelf dug out along a precipice. It was only a mile or so in extent, but being of semi-circular shape, those who used the pass could see but a few yards ahead of them. Above it the hill rose perpendicu- larly in masses of rock and distorted pines as high as Bluebell could see. Below it — many jagged, straight- down yards below it — the Rocky Fork murmured along a bed of boulders. About the middle of the Narrows a huge mass of rock hung over the way, threatening every passer : it was called the Table. Every hard storm brought part of it down, and a dangerous gully was worn under it. The road was comfortably wide for horse- men, though in passing, the one who had a right to The Narroius and Mary Ann Furnace. 11 the wall was thankful therefor ; but vehicles could not possibly pass each other. Whenever two carriages met on the Narrows, the driver nearest the entrance unhitched his horses, fastened them to the rear of his vehicle and drew it backward into a broader place. No railing of any sort protected the edge. No one but a native, or a person perfectly familiar with every step of the way, would cross the Narrows, especially after night. The doctor's horse picked her way, not too close to the mountain-wall. Rock-splinters and flint-dust rolled -over the edge and were heard dropping and dropping until the brain turned dizzy following them. She knew every foot of the road, but snorted fre- quently as if her disapproval of it was unconquerable. Bluebell's fingers tightened on her father's coat. Her face was toward the ravine. It was a gulf of dark- ness : there was no moon, and it was just as well that little could be seen except the white flinty track. Just after they passed the Table rock, where Bailie had to tread quite on the outside to keep from knock- ing her rider's head, they heard footfalls advancing toward them. Bluebell knew father would take care of her ! still they must turn to the right, and the right was the outside. The footfalls quickened, they thumped tumul- 7 8 Rocky Fork. tuously ■ it was a horse galloping. No man in his senses would make a horse gallop along that perilous cut. Bluebell could feel her father gathering himself, tightening his hold on the bridle and around her little body to a cruel clench. He leaned forward and whispered, " H st ! " to the mare, and then shouted ahead : " Look out there ! " The galloping horse, which they could see was riderless, plunged back and reared directly in front of them. The Arabian recoiled, her hind feet went over the precipice, and she scrambled like a cat to hang on with her front hoofs and regain her hold. Father leaned to her neck — Bluebell felt almost crushed for an instant ; then they were on the solid road, the riderless horse had dashed around the curve, and the agile Arabian, trembling in every limb, turned her head back to throw the glare of her eye upon her master's face. " Well done ! " he said, patting her. She uttered an exultant neigh, and hurried forward with a quicker step. " Did I hurt you .? " the doctor asked his little girl. "No, sir," she replied, breathing hard, but proud of having controlled herself in this second fright. The Narrinvs and Mary Ann Furnace. 79 " There isn't another horse in the world as smart as Bailie!" " She has brought me out of so many tight places," said the doctor, " I could trust my life to her. But I wish you were in bed." " I didn't make any fuss ! " " No," said father, " I'm glad you didn't ; you showed your old Irish pluck, the pluck of your great- great-grandfather, old Sir James. During the Irish rebellion in the last century, rough mobs gathered with pikes at every bridge to spear men of his belief. " What's a pike, father ? " " A pole with a sharp knife on the end. Once when he came by with his followers the bridge was full, and he rode straight through, fighting them on all hands, and the rioters missed the pleasure of throwing his speared body in the stream." " It was right for him to fight, was it, father 1 " " It is right to meet any emergency with pluck, and overcome it.'' Bluebell felt her heart swell. She determined to show her Irish pluck in every emergency of life. The road broadened and a glare fell across it : they had reached the Furnace. The Furnace, which was called Mary Ann to distinguish it from other furnaces in the ore region, was an open brick building built So Hocky Fork. into the hillside. It furnished an industry for many poor men. Here iron was melted, and the fires seldom went out. Even in sunny days smoke hung over the cluster of houses in a valley below, which was named from the Furnace, Mary fyaw Post-office. It was a wonderfully picturesque sight which the riders came upon. A flare lit up the coal-dust road, and you could look between brick pillars at what seemed to be the centre of the earth on fire. Men passed to and fro, thrown into strong relief, and each one wore a red-flannel blouse known thereabouts as a " wamus ; " the "wamuses"' did not lessen the general effect. Bluebell felt excited. She did not miss a point of the picture. Her father, she thought, was like old Sir James riding through danger. But the doctor dismounted at once to serious busi- ness. One furnace-man tied his horse, and another gave Bluebell a seat on a stool behind one of the brick pillars. " I met a horse galloping around the Narrows," said Dr. Garde. " 'Twas Eli's," said a furnace-man. "It throw ed him just at this end of the Narrows, and went gal- lopin' down to Mary Ann. And just a few minutes ago back it came on the homeward road. We tried BLUEBELL AT THE MARY ANN FURNACE, &l The Na?-rows and Mary Ann Furnace. 83 to catch it, and that set it off on the run again. You had a pretty close shave of it, didn't you. Doc ? " "Very close,'' replied the doctor. He went to his patient, who lay outside on a bed of coats. Bluebell set quietly watching the fires and feeling sorry for the injured man when he groaned. She heard somebody say it might have gone worse with him, and that he was not badly hurt after all. Her head settled against the brick pillar, and the men came and went before her like figures in a dream. She wondered if it were true, as John Tegarden said, that all the coal underground for rods around had been on fire since the old furnace burnt down some years before. He said horses' feet sunk through and were in danger of burning off ! Then she heard frogs in the Rocky Fork singing their loudest, as if to drown the far-reaching cry of insects which make the summer night ring ; and the cool wind and a smell of blossoming laurel rushed over her face. But, waking next morning on her own bed, she had not the least idea how she got there. Nor had she dreamed that the events of that finished day were to make a great change in her life. CHAPTER VII. MISS MELISSA FURTHER DISAPPROVES OF THE ROCKY FORK. FATHER had started on his rounds again when his daughter came down to breakfast, and Miss Calder and Liza were at table, talking politely. Liza wore a cool, faded lawn, one of her best afternoon dresses, over which her kitchen apron was tied. Miss Calder, with less of the sun in her blood, was in a black barege relieved b)' white slee\es and collar. Each woman seemed so sweet and fair in her way, that Bluebell hardly knew which to admire most. Liza settled the little girl's dress with a matronly twitch and fastened a loose hook or two : then poured out her glass of milk and helped her to bread and butter and fried chicken. "You won't want to go to school to-day, will you. Bluebell ? " she said. S4 Miss Melissa Further Disapproves. 85 ■' Bluebell ? " repeated Miss Calder, questioningly. " She is not commonly called Melissa ? " " Well, no," replied Liza apologetically ; " seems like her mother give her a kind of a pet name when she was a baby, because her eyes were so blue. But laws ! they're gray now to what they were before she had the whooping-cough. Whooping-cough is ver)- hard on children. She had it two years ago, and so had Rocco, and I was worryin' about them the whole summer." Bluebell had been considering the sacrifice of a school-day. She thought of her head-marks, and the probability of Perintha Pancost or Tildy Banks accu- mulating wealth of that kind to her detriment, in her absence. She thought of the noon play, and the geography-school excitement. Giving up school for the day, and for perhaps as many days as Miss Calder stayed, was a serious sacrifice. Still, what little girl could go off to school when her friend was on a visit to the family ? " I won't go," said Bluebell, hoping Perintha Pan- cost at least might not get the head-mark. " You must not stay at home on my account,'' said Miss Melissa. " I want to see your school. Your father said he would be driving by that way in the afternoon and would fetch me home." 86 Rocky Fork. " But it's so far ! " cried the little girl eagerly. " Can you walk all that way ? " " I think 1 should enjoy it," replied Miss Calder, smiling. " I am quite a pedestrian." Bluebell at once felt it was to be an important day. Teeny and Tildy Banks would be aides-de-camp in the march. She would show her friend off before the school. Perintha Pancost needn't take on airs about the geography-teacher. She could not remember when so distinguished a visitor had hon- ored the school. The whole pageant flashed before her mind, even to the finale when her father's low- seated buggy would be whirled up before the step by Bailie, and Miss Calder disappear in a cloud of dust. So after breakfast they set out. Miss Melissa carry- ing a blotting-book to fill with flowers and ferns for her herbarium : a possession everybody should have, she informed Bluebell. Bluebell carried a most superior lunch — not in the calico bag, which smelled of stale bread-crumbs and had been used rather freely in getting the " last tag " of various girls on separating for the day — but in a willow hand-basket with lids, so cumbersome that she envied Teeny and Tildy when they sallied forth with their slim reticule. However, they had not company. Miss Melissa Further Disapproves. 87 " And how did you like tiie singing-school ? " in- quired Miss Melissa as she and Bluebell walked down toward the run. " It was a g'ography school. Oh, it was so nice ! He had them sing the countries — I wish Rocco had waked 'fore we started : I'd learned it to her." " This country seems very romantic," said Miss Calder, inhaling the air with delight. " But it needs cultivation. You should see the smooth, beautiful hills around Sharon." " Is that where you live, ma'am ?" " Yes, that has been my residence all my life," said Miss Calder with nice precision. " And, my dear, you may, if you please, call me aunt Melissa. Your mother called me aunt Melissa." " Yes'm. Thank you," murmured Bluebell. She was about to curtsy, but hesitated lest it might not be a suitable occasion. " Aunt Melissa, is Sharon a great big place — as big as Fredericktown ? " " I know nothing about Fredericktown. But Sharon is not a city. It is a delightful small town of about two thousand inhabitants." Bluebell silently wondered who counted the people. She had vast respect for cities and towns. She could not imagine anything ill-kept or disgusting about a town. Presently they came to the run, and Miss 88 Rocky Fork. Melissa uttered one or two exclamations as she stag- gered across the stones. "This isn't anything to the foot-log," said Bluebell. " But, O aunt ! wouldn't it scared you last night if you'd been on Bailie when she slipped over the Nar- rows ! It's an awful steep place ! " "Yes," said the lady, turning quite pale; "the man who fetched me from the cars drove along there. He assured me there was no other road, or I never should have allowed it." "But there is another road." " He said there was none. And I have trembled ever since to think of returning. I trust your father does not ride that way often ? " "Oh, yes, I guess he does." Miss Melissa trembled now to think how soon the little speaker might become doubly orphaned. "We rode that way last night," repeated Bluebell, " and a runway horse come by and pushed us off ! Bailie was all off but her fore feet, aunt, and she just jumped back ! I was scared," she pursued, plodding along innocentl)', her dark bare arms drooping with their load of basket ; " but I showed my Irish pluck and didn't make any fuss. I didn't make any, either, when father left me on Bailie and went in to Ride- nour's. A man come along and made her plunge so Miss Melissa Further Disapproves . 89 she would have run away or throwed me off if I hadn't held tight!" " Indeed," said Miss Melissa faintly. But a most determined look grew in her shocked, affectionate face. "The poor children," she ruminated, "will not only have the bringing up of boys, but their very lives will be continually endangered by their absorbed young father, if I do not interfere." " You see we had to go to Mary Ann Furnace to 'tend to a man that fell over the Narrows and got hurt," Bluebell went on ; but by this time they had reached the Banks', and Teeny and Tildy were waiting. Teeny walked beside Miss Calder, trying to feel quite a grown woman and striking her dignified heels against her own dress at every step ; but Tildy hung back and helped Bluebell with the basket. Tildy felt a motherly patronage for the smaller girl. They were chums, though Bluebell's arm had to reach up to Tildy 's waist, andTildy's arm lay most comfortably on Bluebell's shoulder. Whatever else might be in Tildy's disposition, she was a devoted partisan. These friends seldom disagreed. Bluebell accepted Tildy's solemn dictum with credulous readiness, and was usually her partner when the school marched, or in the delightful rainy-day game of " Round and round in a green sugar-tree, one cold and frosty morning." go Rocky Fork. There were, however, two things which Bluebell felt she could not yield to Tild}', and these were the spelling-prize, and their one disputed "piece" on Friday afternoons when "speaking " was in order. To be sure, there were plenty of other pieces which might have been added to their repertory, such as " My bird is dead, says Nancy Jiay," " Twinkle, twinkle, little star," and " l like to see a little dog,'' all fresh as the lips that mumbled them in class ; but both Tildy and Bluebell would speak " Mary had a little lamb," or they wouldn't speak anything ! They both loved and doted on this piece : they not only knew it by heart, but each claimed it with a jealousy passing that of authorship. If Mr. Pitzer called Bluebell's name first, she flew to the middle of the floor and shrilled " Mary had a little lamb," with a triumphant wag of her head at Tildy. If Tildy had the first op- portunity, the case was reversed, and Bluebell, with a sense of injury, declined to contribute to the after- noon's literary exercises. The sweet-hearted school- master smiled at their weekly controversy, and perhaps the scholars got tired of the ever-recurring lamb ; but the literary range of the school was not very wide, and there were other repetitions than Bluebell's and Tildy's. The schoolward-going group this time walked with Miss Melissa Further Disapproves. 91 decorum past the downs. But Miss Calder made frequent pauses on mossy logs while the others brought her forage of ferns. They chewed sassafras leaves and peeled long withes of spicewood. She could see distant laurel heights through breaks in the woods, and they made a long detour to get her bunches of the pinky-white blossoms. So it was ac- tually late in the forenoon when they came to the foot-log by Hall's mill. Though Miss Melissa had walked with spirit, she shrank from the boiling Rocky Fork, and asked for the bridge, and even proposed going back rather than trust the giddy foot-log. But this was not to be heard of, and Teeny distinguished herself for firmness. She took tight hold of the flut- tering lady's hand, and Tildy walked behind steady- ing her by the dress. So after a tilt and a shriek or two, they brought her safely to the other side in time for her to witness Bluebell's intrepid passage of the log, laden with all the baggage of the party except the blotting-book, which Tildy went back to bring. Then they all moved upon the mud-chinked school- house. Miss Melissa's gentle face expressed a re- fusal to be reconciled to this as an institution of learning. She was a professor's daughter, and had spent her days in an academic atmosphere. She had even taught in the Young Ladies' Institute one year 92 Rockv Fork. after her graduation, in order to ground herself more firmly in polite knowledge. This was a long time ago ; but all her life her society had embraced college- MR. 1'TTZEr's SCHOOLHOUSE. bred people. So to speak, Miss Melissa had never come in contact with the common schools of her na- tive land. Mr. Pitzer got down from his desk and met them at the door ; and Bluebell, who had been whispering Miss Melissa Further Disapproves. 93 over to herself all the way from the foot-log a form- ula of introduction, there kindly suggested by Miss Calder, turned red as the old-fashioned roses on the master's desk, and felt her breath broken short by every beat of her heart. But she came out bravely with the introduction : " Miss Pitzer, allow me to present you to Mr. Calder." Then she dropped her own curtsy and hid her face in her calico bonnet as she hung it up. For some of them would laugh, and she was wrapped in flames of mortification. However, Miss Calder made a grand impression, and the schoolmaster walked back three steps to make his bow longer. Then he handed her to his chair on the platform, and he himself took a lower seat, leaving Bluebell's friend to appear the autocrat of the school. She looked around at the chinked walls and ink-splashed, knife-marked desks, at the sincere, reflective, bovine eyes which always distinguish country children — eyes that seem as full of woodsy sweets as the violets. And she looked at the flushed schoolmaster, who pushed his spectacles quite into his hair, and puckered his mouth into very wise shapes while he went on explaining to Jo Hall and the big boy who ciphered with him a deep prob- 94 Rocky Fork. lem in common or vulgar fractions. It might have been that Mr, Pitzer was out of his depth, though he was a great schoolmaster ; or that the explanation was too pompous. Miss Calder's eyebrows went up in the very least degree, though not for the world would this gentle creature have hurt the self-esteem of any one. After Jo Hall and the big boy had marked the extent of their next lesson with their thumb-nails, the schoolmaster said some learned things to Miss Calder about the importance of math- ematics : and as this was a very apt class he hoped to take it through the book. And she asked him if the course embraced Algebra and Geometry, and was going on to mention Trigonometry and the Calculus, when she observed the poor schoolmaster grow red and stammer. He did not want to be put to shame before his pupils, but spoke out with a humble spirit : " No, madam, my researches have never extended so far." And something in the old man's tone touched her so keenly that she was shocked with herself, and wondered if she, Melissa Calder, had been rude ! Such a fear drove her to the extreme of kindness and gentleness. When the schoolmaster found she was a living and breathing graduate — alumna were as Miss Melissa Further Disappr!/jti , • '< tXU' BLUEllI-LL'S RESIDENCE. now loud, and breathing deeply, as if startled by some- thing more than a fresh breeze : they must hear the The Child in the Blackberry Patch. 221 mysterious crackling of twigs, the fall of some crum- bling part of a rotten log, the hoot of night-owls, the rattle of the tree-frog, and the dense cry of insects which made the air one unbroken sheet of sound ; the dew would gather on their barky faces. Of course they were nothing but elders — but were they at all afraid ? — or telling " painter " stories among them- selves ? Hour by hour their juices would dry, and to-morrow the bright and blooming Emily Mande- ville and the bedizened Miss Twist would be old and withered elders, and day after to-morrow you might grind them to powder ! A voice calling from the lower bars with a horn- like rise and fall — a homely, but a comfortable sound — summoned not Rose and Pidey, but the children, to come home. " Ah ! " sighed Bluebell, as she rose reluctantly. She was very loath to ask, but she wanted to know so badly. " That painter's dead now, ain't it, Liza?" " Why, honey, it was killed long before Teeny was born ! " This was indeed a relief. CHAPTER XX. THE LAST TIME. WHEN everything was settled, the Rocky Fork- ers said they were not surprised that Doctor Garde was going to move. A man always ought to better himself ; but they hoped he would better him- self. The Rocky Fork was rough and hilly, but some towns might be worse. Miss Calder was to take the children home with her; but the Doctor, able to ride about with his arm in a sling, had to collect fees and settle his business before departing to a new field. So Bluebell came the last time to the log school- house. She might not see it again. " The children shall visit you every summer, Liza," said the young man. "And you must come to see them," urged Miss Melissa. But Liza knew the old time was forever The Last 'I'hnc. 223 broken up. And Bluebell knew that when she came back the schoolhouse would not be her schoolhouse, nor Mr. Pitzer, if he still reigned, her master; yet in her bustle and anticipation, regrets were crowded to a corner of her mind, and she felt important on this last day. Mr. Pitzer had written a beautiful parting address to her on half a tall foolscap sheet, in his fairest hand, upstrokes light and downstrokes artistically shaded, with such wonderful turning W's and other capitals, throwing fantastic vines all around. He had ornamented the top with a bird and a fish in red and green inks, each being deftly finished by a continuous flourish without the pen having been lifted from the paper. The address began, " Dear Youth ;" and went on to describe life as a stream, and a child as a young voyager who was bidden to beware of quicksands, whose sky your old friend hoped might be ever free from storms. " Plow touching was a young and interesting mind just unfolding its petals to the sunlight ! Whoever should bring it to perfect flower, it would always be a source of pleasure to your old friend to remember that he was the first to lead it in the ways of knowledge. May heaven bless and richly endow my young friend ! Your schoolmaster, "Thomas Pitzer." Bluebell folded the paper reverently. She could not 224 Rocky Fork. read many of the words; it was necessary to add more years to her life before this production could be appreciated in its magnitude. But she was very "THF.V HROU'.HT liAl K Ill'NCHEy Ol" HONEYSUCKLE. grateful for such a testimonial, and some odd tender strinsr besran ^ibratino; in her little heart, O dear The Last Time. 225 Mr. Pitzer ! and clear old benches that smelled like the chest carved by Antony of Trent! The very dunce-cap was a thing of joy when she thought of it ! How funny it looked on a blubbering little boy who would not repent of his misdeeds until he was stood in the middle of the floor with that paper cone on his head ! Should she ever know again the hungry smell of a reticule that has a few stale crumbs in it ? She had her way all day. She visited, and when she and Tildy asked to go after the water, not a soul in school would have been a rival candidate for the same office. They brought back bunches of honeysuckle from Langley's well, and the smell of that flower became forever associated in Bluebell's mind with worm-eaten benches, clay-chinked walls and the stirring-air of the hills. She wore her best blue calico, and felt so dressed up as to have lost part of her identity. So Tildy rested the pail-handle on a stick, and silently carried the short end herself. And when they put the water-pail on its bench in the corner, Jo Hall got permission to pass it around (another fat office in primitive school-life), and not one mouth within those walls could refuse to press the dripping gourd when it presented itself, splashing cold drops on bare feet, or sending delicious shudders through thinly covered 2 26 Rocky Fork. limbs. When Jo Hall reached Bluebell, he dropped in her lap not only a thumb-paper bearing her name, but a lot of birds ingeniously folded in the pattern generally accepted by the school. Perintha Pancost had her pocket so bulging full of new apples that it weighed her down, and all the scholars on her bench swallowed expectantly. But, one after the other, they were passed to Bluebell, through hands which only stopped them on the way for a smell ; so Bluebell's pocket bulged, and she and Perintha exchanged the most amiable and confiding smiles. Mr. Pitzer was so busy mending pens, he perhaps saw no occasion for bringing out and reading that article of the rules which forbade eating ^"apples, condiments, and nuts, or going to dinner-hags in school hours." How kind all those boys and girls were ! John Tegarden showed her the "Death of the Flowers,'' in the Fourth Reader, which he was learning to speak before summer school was out, for the "last day; " and, as it had a melancholy tone, Bluebell felt vaguely complimented. She would be away off in Sharon on that day; she would not even see the prizes distrib- uted, to say nothing of missing that spelling prize herself. Some of the parents who were not too busy harvest- The Last Time. 227 ing, would be there in their Sunday clothes; the children themselves would appear in different charac- ter, all shod in stiff shoes or jaunty slippers; the for- tunate girls in white dotted swiss, or book muslin, with rosettes of ribbon in their tightly braided hair, the poorer ones in starched calico ; the boys dressed ex- actly like their fathers, and looking like little old men, very much subdued by the calamity of clothes. But still there probably were grander gala days in Sharon. Amanda Willey would have Bluebell stand next to her in the ring at noon when they played " T lost my glove yesterday, found it to-day. " Of course Tildy stood on the other side, and Perintha, who went around with the glove — which was simply and solely an empty reticule, there being no glove in the entire school wardrobe — dropped it behind Bluebell. They ab- stained from "Drown the Duck," because she hated the tiresome ins and outs, and was sure to be drowned by dashing straight at the leader. Even the boys left "Bull in the Pen,'' and "Mad Dog," to say nothing of "Base" and " Three Old Cat," and condescended to play for once with the girls, if the girls would play that ^•ariation of " Hide and Seek" known to them as " Hickamy-dickamy ; " and to Blue- bell was reserved the right of repeating the cabalistic 2 28 Rocky Fork. formula by which the panting and eager crowd was narrowed down to the one party who had to hide his eyes. Witli dipping forefinger she went the rounds, rejoicing in the liquid roll of the words : " Hickamy-dickamy, aliga-mo ; Dick slew, aligo-slum ; Hulkum, pulkum, peeler's gum : France — you're out ! " The lot fell on Minerva Ridenour, that little baby- faced thing who was always standing about with her mouth open, as if perpetually astonished at the world, and who could not even eat an apple without showing how her white first-teeth made cider of the fruit. There were plenty of places to hide : behind logs and trees, behind the schoolhouse and the schoolhouse door. Before she had counted a hundred, with her eyes hid against the base, not a bobbing head or glint of calico could be seen in the landscape; and when, rubbing the smear which darkness had made, off her sight, she wandered cautiously a few yards from the base, lo ! there were half a dozen long-legged fellows patting it, having swooped from overhanging branches or from behind logs. Forms appeared everywhere, and the little Black man ran valiantly, but overtook only one or two at the base, where she The Last Time. 22^ patted excitedly, calling the individual names of the entire school, until she was checked, and reminded if she called anybody's name before he appeared, that party could "come in free." Jo Hall and John Te- garden remained out when all the rest stood in a scarlet and perspiring group ! and it was ludicrous to see Minerva fly back to the base as if drawn by an elastic rope which she had stretched, every time an alarm rose behind her or she saw a suspicious spot. On the other hand, the found majority shouted warn- ing or encouragement to the invisibles : "Lay low, Jo!" " Run, John, now's your time ! Run ! run ! run ! " John had hid in the hollow towards the Rocky Fork, and his long legs at his distance were pretty equally matched against Minerva's tardier feet at her distance. It was an exciting moment, in which the majority patted its hands and knees and shouted with all its might. Minerva came in gallantly, but John reached over her at the last instant and patted the base: "One, two, three!" And then his impetus carried him sprawling on the ground. It was John's nature to throw his entire sensitive soul into what he undertook, and he did not enjoy the girls' laughing and the boys' hooting as he scrambled upon " all- fours.'' He did not know he was to do martial sen-ice 230 Rocky Iwrk. for his countr)' and to die the death of a soldier. The noble possibilities of the boy were at that time only apparent in his tenderness of heart. It was an aggra- vation to an awkward fellow like John to see Jo Hall sail in and encircle the base while Minerva was farthest from it, as if Mercury's wings grew on his neatly moving heels; pat it triumphantly, and step back with his head up, as if graceful success was a matter of course for him. Oh, they had so much fun ! If there was anything in the world more exhilarating than running right through when the Black Man calls, Doctor Garde's little girl had yet to encounter it. Then there was that similar play, with a shiver in it : " How many miles to Barley-bright ? " " Three score and ten." " Can I get there by candle-light ? " " Yes, if the witches don't catch you ! " But the school-day ended. Bluebell put her reader and spelling-book into her reticule. She got one last head-mark. And the lessons the higher classes had read that afternoon, made a background of thought in her mind — the magnificently worded " Con-fla-gra-tion of an Am-phi-theatre," and that rousing story of a son's return, beginning, " It was The Last Time. 231 night. The widow of the Pine Cottage had laid on her last fagot." One by one the boys and girls went out, bowing or BROUGHT UOWN FROM THE GARRET. cortesying to the master, and he laid special emphasis on the " G^i?oi^-evening " which he gave Bluebell. How soon it was all over! And how soon the very evening before her departure had come ! The clothes she was to wear on the journey were laid out on a 232 Rocky Fork. chair, and her mother's trunk brought down from the garret, repaired and packed. After all, it was de- cided to let Roxana stay with Liza until her father was ready to depart. In her own flutter, Bluebell scarcely anticipated missing the baby. Tildy came over to stay all night, and they played until late. She brought her John Rogers' Primer as a parting gift for Bluebell to "remember her by." Its frontispiece represented the martyr, John Rogers, burning at the stake, surrounded by soldiers with axes, and his numerous family, in very short-waisted gowns or mature-looking coats. The delightful rhymes within its covers almost repeated themselves : " Time cuts down all, Both great and small." " In Adam's fall We sin-ned all." " Zacharias he Did climb a tree, His lord and master For to see ; ' and many others with an old-fashioned tang like that of a winter apple kept far into the spring. And there was, besides, John Rogers' address to his children. The Last Time. 233 On receiving tliis precious pamphlet, Bluebell drew from her own stores her oldest and dearest book, the "■^ Hymns for Infant Minds," in pink pasteboard covers. There was this prime favorite : " My father, my mother, I know, I cannot your kindness repay ; But I hope as the older I grow, I shall learn your commands to obey. You loved me before I could tell Who it was that so tenderly smiled ; But now that I know it so well, I should be a dutiful child." And there, too, was Mr. Pitzer's battle piece : " Let dogs delight," &c.. And, " I thank the goodness and the grace Which on my birth has smiled ; " with dozens of other gently stimulating hymns which Bluebell had long known by heart. In giving this book to Tildy, she gave as nearly a part of her identity as could be separated from herself. Morning came — early, but moist and shady among the hills. The girls were up before anybody else 234 Rocky Fork. in the house. Tildy hooked Bluebell up with ma- ternal care, and combed the tangles out of her hair with an energy which came near straining their friendship at that last moment. Then Liza bustled about breakfast, and the baby waked in the unusual stir. Miss Melissa moved out of her chamber in the dignified habit which she had laid aside after her arrival at the Rocky Fork. Father did not ride away until the party was ready to start. Abram with his spring-wagon was to drive them to the station : father was still a left-handed horseman. The last, and almost the very best, breakfast of Rocky Fork life was just over, when Robert's Liza and Teeny came trailing up the meadow, their dresses deeply touched with dew. Teeny brought her rough- coated china lamb as a parting gift ; she had outgrown such toys ; but Bluebell could only give her a kiss in return, for all her treasures were under lock and key. Then a rattling was heard along the lane, and Abram appeared with his horse and spring-wagon. He had two split-bottomed chairs for his travellers, but for himself, a board across the wagon was good enough. He let down the bars, and drove in to take on the trunks. And then Bluebell realized that she ^\'as going away from hnnie 1 • GOOD-BY, H'VEBELL, GOOD-BY ! 235 The Last Time. 237 Does the child leave you so lightly, old weather- beaten house ! Never mind. Years will bring you your revenge; you will live in her mind forever, a symbol of joy which does not come when we are older. She is squeezing the little sister, responding to Tildy's stoical hug — and Tildy starts straight to the lower bars, her brimming eyes turned from the com- pany. Liza-Robert is caressing her with some pious words, and now she is tight in Liza's arms, just real- izing how soft and comfortable and dear they have been. She hangs to Liza while Miss Melissa makes her adieux, and Teeny gives her another pat as Abram hoists her into the vehicle. Father is ready on his Arabian to ride beside them as far as Mary Ann post-office. They will take the long way around the hills. The bars are put up behind them. Bluebell looks back and sees her group of friends moving into the house, and hears Rocco's voice — like the voice of the old house — calling persistently : " Good-by, B'uebell, good-by ! Good-by, B'ue- bell ! " CHAPTER XXI. THE FIRST RAILROAD TRAIN. FATHER," said Doctor Garde's little girl, when she saw the branchmg road ahead on which he must ride away from her, "you won't get into the Rocky Fork again, will you ? " "If I do, it will barely reach my saddle-girth now," replied father, smiling. " But you'll be careful, won't you, father?" "Yes, I'll be careful." Both his horse antl Abram's wagon were checked when the roads separated, while a few adieux were said. He shook hands with Miss Melissa and kissed his little girl. In a few moments he was cantering away, and Bluebell felt launched on the unknown world by herself. There was Abram, however, a figure to whom she had been accustomed so large a part of her life. And though he seemed nothing but 238 The First Railroad Train. 239 a figure now, driving silently and looking straight ahead, for Abram was a reticent man, he was most significant of home. It was a long drive to the rail- road station. Mary Ann post-office was quite back in the wilderness, and Bluebell had always thought it a suburb of the great world. They stopped in the woods far from any house, and had their dinner. Liza had put up the best of lunches and plenty of cold tea. Abram unhitched his horse and led it to a stream to drink ; then he took a sack of feed from the space behind the trunks, and fed it. Miss Calder and Bluebell sat on their chairs, but Abram took his dinner resting on the grass. When they had stopped half an hour by Miss Calder's time, he hitched the horse again, and they moved briskly forward lest they should be too late at the station for the afternoon Baltimore and Ohio passenger train. As they came down a slope, Doctor Garde's little girl saw what she thought was an immense long boat sliding across a grassy plain with a roar which terri- fied her. It was as strange a sight as a blue or scarlet moon in the sky. " Oh, look at that ! " she cried : " what is it ?" " That's the east-bound passenger," said Miss Melissa. " Our train will be down soon now." So that strange vision was "the cars." 2 40 Rocky Fork. She had heard of their rapid motion, and was pre- pared to see them shoot like a meteor ; they were a little disappointing in that respect. But the smoke, the noise ! And the possible danger ! Suppose that train had changed its direction, and had run up the slope straight at Abram's wagon ! Bluebell had no doubt the mysterious sliding power could move where it pleased. But when they alighted at the station, she saw stretching in front of it, and as far as eye could see on each side until the parallel lines became points or disappeared behind hills, iron rails laid on a pre- pared road. This was the railroad ; the flying boat could not leave it for a turf track and prosper. Here was matter for congratulation ; but a new fear arose in the little girl's mind which she would not on any account have betrayed. If the cars ran on wheels, as aunt Melissa explained that they did, how could those wheels keep from slipping off the polished tops of the rails ? and if they departed ever so little. Bluebell knew what must follow. Her \ision of riding on the cars began to take a lurid nimbus. Still, other people had ventured and lived. The station was a small lonely building, but several handsome farm-houses could be seen in the landscape. There were two rooms inside, in one of which a little machine clicked all the time. There were poles all The First Railroad Train. 241 along the railroad, with wires stretched along their tops, and Bluebell noticed that these wires came down through a window to this machine. She knew what that was. It was the telegraph. She had heard things went more quickly over that than over the railroad. " I hope father and Rocketty will ride on that when they come to aunt Melissa's house," she thought. " Wouldn't the baby's eyes pop when they went spinning along so fast ! But what do folks do when they get to the poles? I should think the tops of the poles 'ud hit 'em. I guess they just swing round the poles and go on. I don't believe I could go very fast if they was telegraphin' me." Miss Melissa sat on a bench in the station. Abram had attended to the tickets and had the trunks marked for delivery at Newark. He then drove his horse some distance away, and having secured it, came back to see his party off. Bluebell slipped her hand into his and stood by him on the platform. "You'll soon.be off now," said he. "Yes, sir." " Are you glad to get away from the Rocky Fork ? " " Oh, no, sir ! But I want to learn at a big seminary." 2 42 Rocky Fork. "That's a fact," said Abram, as if deliberation had convinced him of it. " Mr. Banks, I s'pose you'll see Tildy ? " " It's likely I will ; yes, it's pretty likely." " If you do see her, I wish you would please tell her to write to me ; I forgot to ask her.'' " I don't know's she can write." " But Teeny can. And Tildy said she was going to have a copybook as soon as her mother bought her some foolscap paper. I am going to learn to write. I am going to play music, too, Mr. Banks." "Yes, it's likely you'll learn a heap of fine things." " Don't you s'pose Teeny would write a letter for Tildy .? " "That don't seem onreasonable,'' admitted Abram. " Christeeny writes a fair hand. Robert, he was a good scholar. He read the Bible and Josephus clear through." "Yes, sir. And Jo Hall said they were singin' so nice at g'ography-school now.'' " That's good learning," said Abram, drolly; "but ther's many another thing a man'd better know than singin' g'ogr'phy. F'rinstance : how to ford a creek ! " Before Doctor Garde's little girl could do complete justice to this pleasantry, which she and Abram, of The First Railroad Train. 243 all persons, were able to appreciate, the air was rent with a scream that turned the whole landscape for one instant into a nightmare. "That's the cars," said Abram ; "don't you see the smoke comin' round the hill ? " Miss Calder came out on the platform. The glit- tering monster of the rails bore down upon them as if determined to have their lives. The station agent stood ready to attend to baggage or express matter. Before Bluebell could get her breath evenly, she was being helped up steps after Miss Calder, was walking along a long narrow room with windows on each side, and being seated beside aunt Melissa on a velvet-upholstered seat. Red, bright velvet, gayer than Rocco's best flowered winter dress which Liza made of a remnant of brocaded velvet among mother's things. The seats were very soft and spongy, too. Bluebell furtively bounced up and down while Miss Melissa was settling comfortably. She sat on a seat facing her. A man obligingly turned it over for them. All at once the station began to slide backwards ; and before she could recover from this, the woods and hills gently slipped away as if they had grown tired of such everlasting rest. The train was moving ! What was a wagon or a horseback ride compared to this ! Teetering on a sapling, or on a board stuck 244 Rocky Fork. through the fence, or swinging in a grape-vine, must forevermore be secondary methods of motion. But where was Abram ? She stretched her head out of the open window, and Miss Melissa nervously pulled her in just in time to save her fiat from a flight. But Bluebell had seen Abram far back, jDlodding up the road behind the station. "I didn't bid him good-by," she thought ruefully, as this last symbol of her country home vanished from sight. She felt a momentary pang, such as may- be shoots through a little plant torn from its cherish- ing ground to be transplanted. But there was aunt Melissa sitting up so grand, her veil over her face and her delicate gloved hands enclosing her vinaigrette, ready for the headache which threatened her when travelling. She was a symbol of that larger life opening before the child. Miss Calder was suffering a peculiar martyrdom. In every fibre of her sensitive nature she felt that she had robbed the lonesome spinster among the hills, who had not half her resources. But, on the other hand, she had but performed her sacred duty to the dead and the living. She knew she was considering the welfare of the children more than her own wishes. It was a waste for the refined young doctor to spend his life and energies at the Rocky Fork when by her The First Railroad Train. 245 influence she could help him to a position better suited to him. He was so humble and sorrowful himself, he had not considered that he owed a future to his dead wife's children. Still Miss Melissa felt she had performed a very painful duty, and regretted that she had not done it years before; for anything neglected brings with it long arrears of interest. But Bluebell was in a fever of delight. Every object seen on that journey was stamped upon her mind for life. When they slid into Newark, at which point their trip by rail ended, the city glamour enveloped her. To be sure, they passed squalid houses, worse than the most illy kept cabins about the Rocky Fork ; and she got swift glimpses of dirty children and pens of back yards, — in short, of all the unsavory sights which spot the outskirts of a city. But these seemed picturesque. The folks must have a good time living "in town." If the children were filthy, they could have candy every day, probably, and walk on side- walks. Teeny said folks in Fredericktown never soiled the soles of their shoes. And oh, how beauti- ful the tall buildings were, when the slowly moving train, ringing its bell in state, gave glimpses of them ! Streets stretching far as eye could see, carpets, dry 246 Rocky Fork. goods, immense windows, people hurrying about dressed in their Sunday clothes and looking as if they felt the importance of living in town ; carts rat- tling, long painted and gilded carriages with a man riding on top. appearing and disappearing around corners ; and more than all, the roar of human life ! How grand was a cit\ ! She even loved the smell of it, which consisted principally of escaping gas, not in good odor with more experienced noses. Doctor Garde's little girl was in a nervous hurry to follow aunt Melissa out of the train when it stopped. She remembered its imperceptible starting, and what should she do if it carried her off by mis- take ? A man in blue clothes lifted her down from the last high step, and she kept close to Miss Calder. From the dingy brick depot came a light-haired smiling man in very neat clothes. He carried a whip in his hand. " How do you do, Archibald ? " said Miss Calder with great affability. " Have you got the carriage here ? " Archibald took off his hat and bowed, smiling all the time in the most laughter-provoking way, and replied that he was quite well, and hoped he saw Miss Calder looking well. The carriage was on the other side of the de'pot. 7'he First Railroad Train. 247 Miss Calder said she was in excellent health, but felt threatened with a headache and would be glad to get home. She hoped everything had gone well. Archibald assured her everything had moved as usual, except the house didn't seem the same ; and he would put her trunk up behind the carriage im- mediately if she could wait one minute. "There are two trunks," said Miss Calder: "that one beside mine which that man is pulling out of the way, is Melissa's." Archibald applied himself to loading the baggage on a rack behind the carriage. Then he made haste to open the door, let down the steps, and help his mistress and her charge in. The carriage was roomy and comfortable, and drawn by two fat sleepy- looking horses, black as coal and groomed until they glittered. They seemed on the best of terms with Archibald, who called them Coaly and Charley. Miss Calder leaned back with a satisfied sigh as they started. The cushions were easy and the stuffed back supported one to the shoulders. It was quite sunset when they left Newark behind and drove towards the yellowing west. The three or four miles intervening between the railroad town and Sharon was a succession of lovely land- scapes, and seemed one of those suburban extensions 248 Rocky Fork. which rich men love to beautify with their villas. There was no ruggcdness like that about the Rocky Fork. The hills rose in majestic proportions but softened outlines. In the aftei^low left by sunset the coun- try had an unearthly beauty. The road constantly broadened ; villa after villa appeared, each standing in spacious grounds. They reached the top of an ascent, and saw Sharon set below, surrounded by hills and glittering like a huge topaz in the evening light. As they descended they lost sight of her. She was drowned from view among her abundant foliage. Bluebell began to think the road had turned aside from her, when they came sweeping around a curve and past an artificial lake, and were in Sharon's main street, so broad that many carriages like Miss Me- lissa's could drive there abreast. The street was quite lively with carriages, and Miss Calder ex- changed greetings with numbers of people. One tall white building was beginning to glitter with lights from roof to ground. She knew it must be an im- portant place, and asked with awe what it was. "That's the seminary," replied Miss Calder. Doctor Garde's little girl felt almost dizzy as she was obliged to withdraw her eyes from the great mill of learning. They drove far up this wide street and turned down The First Railroad Train. 249 another. The carriage stopped. Archibald opened a gate and drove half way around a sweep under tall trees, and brought them to the steps of a large old house. It was brick. Bluebell could see vines massed over one whole end of it. There was a tall pillared veranda extending along the entire front. The hall-door was open, and within, a globe of light hung suspended from the ceiling. Bluebell thought of the Discontented Cat who went to live with the Countess Von Rustenfustenmustencrustenberg, as she was ushered into this hall and the double parlors which opened from it. She walked on bouquets of velvet flowers as large around as a tub. The lofty rooms appeared to Bluebell one vast collection of treasures. She did not know there were such pict- ures, such chairs and ornaments and lounges and curtains in the world. In this house three or four generations of Calders had lived and died. It was the first fine house built in Sharon by one of the Massachusetts colonists when the country was new. It had been remodeled and added to, and its furniture changed with the family tastes or fortunes. But the Calders never destroyed an old thing. Its former belongings were sure to be preserved in some way. Miss Melissa entered her own room which opened 250 Rocky Fork. from the back parlor, and took off her wraps, bid- ding Bluebell take off hers also. And again Dr. Garde's little girl was astonished by the sumptuous- nessof her surroundings. Then aunt Melissa opened a door into a bathroom, and refreshed herself by bath- ing her hands and face at a marble stand, and called Bluebell to do likewise. CHAPTER XXII. MISS BIGGAR. BUT in spite of its beauty and spaciousness, this seemed rather a lonely house, Bluebell thought, when she was ready for tea, and had nothing to do but gauge her surroundings. Aunt Melissa floated about, showing fatigue in every motion, but anxious to examine into the stat? of her house. Doctor Garde's little girl wished for Rocco, or that Tildy would walk in, poking her toes into the pile of the carpets. Wouldn't Tildy be s'prised ! About this time, she and Teeny were sitting on the front steps. And the wind from around the hill was rustling through the elders — dear elders ! Rose and Pidey were standing to be milked. There was moonlight all over the Rocky Fork — but not like this lone- some-looking moonlight sifting through aunt Melis- sa's trees. Maybe that big white seminary wasn't 251 252 Rocky Fork. half as nice as the log schoolhouse when you came to find out. And what master could be kinder or know any more than Mr. Pitzer ? O Rocky Fork, how this little heart 'ached for you ! Maybe father would get hurt again. Oh this pain of homesickness for what you love ! If she could just hug the baby one blessed minute, or feel Liza's fostering hand tying up the ends of her auburn braids ! " Why, my dear ! " exclaimed Miss Melissa mov- ing back from a closet, " what can be the matter ? Is it possible I hear you crying ? " She stooped and put her hand under Bluebell's chin. The child smeared her face vigorously with her palms. " I guess it's only some water runnin' out of my eyes," she said with heroism and a hiccup. Miss Melissa set on a sofa and drew her charge's head to her thin shoulder. " You feel lonely. But plenty of nice little girls will come to call on you ; and think ! your father and little Roxana will be here soon." " Yes'ni," struggled Bluebell, smothering down her sobs. This was no way to show Irish pluck. Miss Melissa trembled slightly. " This place seems strange to you. But your mother used to play all over this house. She sat in Miss Biggar. 355 this very room and sewed and talked with me many an afternoon." Bluebell looked about, feeling less repelled. Her mother's presence had touched this and that, and in some sense still lingered there for her. " I am growing to be an elderly lady, and all my relatives are distant or dead. The warmest friend- ship of my life was formed for your mother, and I could not help wanting to bring her children into my house, that I might do all I can for them." "Yes'm," responded Bluebell, having conquered her sobs and shut them below her throat with a large lump laid on their heads. " And I did hope you might be happy, that maybe you would want to make your old auntie happy — " " O aunt Melissa, you ain't old ! " " Old enough to feel very lonely." This touched Bluebell, in her present mood, more deeply than anything said before. She put one arm around aunt Melissa's narrow waist ; the lady patted her. " There, now, we'll try to be cheerful. I presume you are hungry and tired, and the tea-bell has been ringing while we were talking. When you have something to eat and are rested you will feel a great 2 54 Rocky Fork. deal better. Run and bathe your face, and then we will go into the dining-room." In the dining-room a real fairy feast was set forth. As for the silver and china, Bluebell had never im- agined its like. The table was round and cosy, and though she sat opposite aunt Melissa, they seemed quite near together. The neatest and plumpest of women came in to wait on them. This was Maria, who had been with Miss Calder a dozen years. Maria looked pleased and rosy as she exchanged greetings with the lady of the house. " I hope you found everything right when you came in, ma'am. I had some cake in that I daren't leave a minute." " Everything seems in excellent order, Maria. Were there any letters ? " " A good many papers. I put them on the libr'y table." " That was right." Maria went out, and Bluebell went on carefully with her supper. Eating and drinking were made beautiful. It was a joy to sip her milk — with a little hot tea poured into it as a tonic for her spirits, which Miss Calder approved of — from a cup so transparent it seemed too strong a breath must blow it away; to watch the tall shining urn and chased Miss Biggar. zss tray, and even the carved wooden clock on the wall, from which, while Bluebell watched it, there suddenly MISS LIBBIE BIGGAR. dipped out a little bird, calling, " Coo-coo ! " eight distinct times. 256 Rflcky Fork. Before his last note quite ceased, a sharp pat of slipper-heels came flying through the hall, and a small person appeared at the dining-room door. " Oh, that's you, is it, Libbie ? I was just hoping you would come in." " When did you get home ? " cried Libbie in a clear, high voice. "About a half-hour ago. is your grandmamma well ? " " She is very well, I thank } ou.'' Libbie was taking an inventory of the little girl opposite iSriss Caldtr. "Melissa," said Miss Calder, in the formal manner which she considered it requisite to use even towards children, " let me present Miss Libbie Biggar. Miss Libbie, my namesake, Melissa Garde." Miss Libbie stepped back, placing the toe of her rig-ht foot across the heel of her left, and made a graceful bow. She did it evidently without thought. Her manner was perfectly eas)'. Bluebell struggled to get up, and dropped a poor little half-courtesy. " I hope you are well," said Miss Biggar. Bluebell replied that she was tolerably well. This young lady, no older than herself, confused and humbled her. She admired Miss Libbie's air- and composure, her low-necked and short-sleeved white Miss Biggar. 257 dress, her small slippers, the ribbon around her waist, and the tiny ring on her hand. But her head — it was the most wonderful head Bluebell had ever seen. Its heavy dark hair was shingled close, " like a boy's, -only cut shorter!" The effect was fine. Bluebell despised her own auburn braids. And Miss Libbie had black eyes, a short nose, and a few charming dots of freckles sprinkled over her alto- gether piquant face. She came towards Miss Calder, and took that lady's hand within her dimpled fingers, and on invitation sat down to have a bit of cake. Every motion was watched by Doctor Garde's little girl. How hopeless her own bashful awkwardness seemed ! Wouldn't Tildy be s'prised to see a little girl act so much like a grown-up lady ! CHAPTER XXIII. A DUCK AMONG SWANS. AFTER tea was over they went into the back parlor ; and here Bluebell noticed for the first time a large, shining object standing on carved and claw-footed legs. The top was partially covered by an em- broidered cloth. But Miss Libbie Biggar was per- fectly familiar with it. She tried to move the front of it, and Miss Melissa finally opened a folding lid for her, disclosing a long row of brilliant black and white ivory keys. " Do you play on the piano ? " inquired Miss Libbie politely, turning to her new acquaintance. " Melissa is going to take lessons at once," replied Miss Calder for her. This, then, was a py-anna ! Oh wonderful instru- ment ! While yet voiceless, it threw its glamour over Doctor Garde's little girl. She at once re- 258 - / Duck Among S^vans. 35^ solved to master its harmonies. Some stray poetic instinct, of which she was half ashamed, made her love the irregular tinkle of a cow-bell among the hills, the echoing ring of a blacksmith's hammer ; and she had often followed a bird, called at the Rocky Fork a " medder-lark," with her head upturned and her breast thrilling, till her unguided feet perhaps be- trayed her to the run or some mud-hole. Miss Libbie climbed upon the music-stool, ready without invitation to make a display of what she had superficially learned. But from the instant her fingers touched the key-board, one listener sat rapt almost beyond expression. The richness of the instrument was wonderful to Bluebell. Its harmo- nies, which the young performer could not even hint at, yet suggested themselves to the silent child. Miss Libbie's hands, and the dimple each finger showed at its root when lifted to strike a note, seemed most admirable. Oh to be so accomplished ! The performer played some little march, and such various exercises as she could remember. While she played. Bluebell was struggling with a dumb sense of having been defrauded thus far in her life. She ought not to be so behind that little girl. What had gone wrong ? Was it her own fault .' How could she learn music at the Rocky Fork? Still, she was 2 6o JRocky Fork. ■conscious of grief and sliame, and many other un- reasonable sensations. " What pieces do you like best?" inquired Miss Libbie in a general way, wishing to be agreeable to this queer little girl. " Oh, I like them all so much ! " exclaimed Bluebell. Then a sob followed her voice. She ran to Miss Melis- sa, and was folded to that lady's shoulder. This spon- taneous action helped the sore little heart, and she was able to stop her crying before it became a freshet. "Oh dear!" said Libbie, turning around on the music-stool, "what's the matter? Have /done any- thing?" " Everything is strange to her,'' murmured Miss Melissa ; " she has never been away from her father before. She must go right to bed, and she will feel better in the morning.'' Bluebell tried to smile over her shoulder at the caller. " I think it's the music makes me cry ! " Libbie descended from the music-stool, evidently not flattered. " Because I like it so much ! " stammered Doctor Garde's little girl, ashamed of the confession thus wrung from her. Miss Melissa patted the auburn head. A Duck Among Swans. 261 " Indeed ! Well, you shall have all the music you want, my dear, and before you get through you may cry in another key over some difficult exercise." Bluebell was marched up-stairs, overstrung and humiliated by her debut into her new home. Libbie chose to follow, though her grandmother's domestic had been sent in to call her home. Miss Calder perhaps had a little speech ready as she opened the door of the room Bluebell was to occupy. But she merely said with a tremor, " Your mother often occupied this room, Melissa." And again the child felt that invisible presence which seemed to open such great vistas to her. The room itself was so sumptuous she dreaded damaging it. Libbie gravely perched herself upon a chair, and watched while Miss Melissa laid out a nightgown from Bluebell's trunk which stood near the closet door waiting unpacking. Doctor Garde's little girl undressed herself with tremulous hands and crept humbly into the un- adorned cotton gown Liza had made. Then she said her prayers, and aunt Melissa tucked her under the cover, and reached up to turn off the gas. " Are you coming down now, Libbie ? Your grandmamma wants you." " Yes'm, in a minute." 262 Rocky Fork. The little girl in bed thought, " She doesn't mind very well, anyhow ; " and this was the first debit she found for Miss Libbie Biggar. "Well, don't keep Melissa awake long to-night," said Miss Calder. She left the gas burning and hast- ened down-stairs, for the knocker made a mighty clang on the front door, and she knew some neighbor had come to welcome her back. Miss Biggar sat up and looked at Doctor Garde's little girl, evidently interested in her. Bluebell turned her bashful face down on the pillow. "Are you going to cry again?" inquired Miss Biggar. " Do you cry all the time ? " "I ain't crying,'' responded Bluebell, showing her face with some asperity. " Your nose looks all swelled on the end. Why don't you have your hair shingled ? " " I don't know how," replied Bluebell, bewildered. " Why, just go to a barber, and he'll shingle it. Grandma let me have mine done if I'd have my tooth pulled out so another could grow in. How old are you ? " " Goin' on nine." Miss Libbie considered. " What makes you say ' goin' on ' ? " Bluebell might have replied that it was the custom A Duck Among Sivans. 263 of the country where she came from. But she could not explain her provincialisms. '■I don't know." "Is your name Melissa?" inquired Libbie, with a compassionate emphasis. "Yes, it's Melissa Garde; but they always call me Bluebell." " Well. That's a gj-eat deal better than Melissa. I wouldn't be called Melissa 1 " " What's your name ? " " Elizabeth Biggar. I live with my grandma. My papa and mamma are both dead." "My mother's dead." " Have you got all her rings and jewelry ?" " No-o," replied Bluebell. " I don't believe she had any." Libbie gave the speaker a long, compassionate stare. Then she turned to contemplating her own case. " Oh ! I have the loveliest things, and a gold watch in a satin case, and diamond ear-rings ; but I have to wait till I'm eighteen years old before I can wear them, grandma says. Once we had a children's party and I wore my blue silk dress, and grandma let me put on the handsomest locket ! I wish I would hurry and be eighteen." 264 Rocky Fork. " That's very old, isn't it ? " said Bluebell. " Yes. I'll be a young lady then." Doctor Garde's little girl cast her eyes on the wall, and wondered if she would ever be a young lady. Teeny Banks was only a young woman. She could discern the difference, but her convictions were very strong that she could never become such an ornamental being as Miss Libbie Biggar. So, leaving this perplexity, she turned back for informa- tion. " What do they do at a party ? " Miss Libbie stared again. " \\\\o .? " "Why, the children." " Why, don't you know ? " Bluebell shook hgr head. She had "stayed all night " at Tildy's, marched, and spoken pieces at school, but her experience never comprehended a party. " \Vell, didn't you ever go to a party ? " Doctor Garde's blushing little girl acknowledged her shortcoming. " Oh my ! Why, where did you use to live ? " " At the Rocky Fork." "And didn't the children have birthday or Christ- mas parties there ? " A Duck Among Sivans. 2G5 Another shake of the auburn head. " ^^'ell, that is the queerest thing 1 " " But what do the children do at a party ? " " Why, they do just like grown people at their parties," replied Miss Biggar satisfactorily; and Bluebell sat up in bed and thought it over. " Only," explained the young lady, " they go in the afternoon instead of evening. When my cousin came from Newark " — ■ thrice happy Miss Libbie to have a cousin who lived in a city ! — "to visit me, I had a lovely party, about twenty girls and most as many boys, and we had ice-cream at supper." " What's that .? " Libbie rose from her chair, walked to the bedside, and seriously looked over her interlocutor. " Vanilla ice-cream. Didn't you ever eat any ? " Doctor Garde's little girl felt that she was about to be routed with great slaughter. She had alighted upon a new world where the customs of the people were all strange to her, and it behooved her, she had at last the tact to perceive, to be more circumspect than to betray her ignorance so openly. She changed the subject, and also her companion's attitude from the offensive to the defensive. "Do you go to school ? " " Yes, I go to the seminary." 266 Roc-ky Fork. " I'm going there too. What do yon study ? " " Music and Mental 'Rithmetic ; and we print, and I'm going to take drawing lessons." " And what do you read in ? " " The First Reader." " Ho ! " ejaculated Bluebell ; and a shade of un- easiness came over Miss Libbie's face. " What do you read in ? " she inquired. " I can read in most anything," replied Doctor Garde's little girl. " I'm in the Second Reader, pretty near to the Third. How far have you got in spelling ? " Libbie looked mystified. " Can you spell in-com-pre-hen-si-bil-i-ty ' ' " I don't want to." " I can spell all the big words in the spelling- book." This educated creature began to assume a formida- ble aspect in the eyes of Miss Biggar. A rap on the door heralded Maria's head. "Miss Libbie," said she, "your grandma says for you to come right home this minute. She's got something nice for you, and it won't keep." " I'm coming now. I know what it is. It's ice- cream. You say I'm coming, Maria." Maria withdrew her head. A Dnck Among Swans, 267 " I live in the very next house," continued Libbie to Bluebell. "You must come and see me." "I will," promised Bluebell. " I'll bring some of the girls to call on you." Bluebell did not know what to reply to this formi- dable proposal, so she said nothing. Libbie's hand was on the door-knob ; she had said good-night and received a response,, but came run- ning back with a most charming, childish impulse. She climbed on the bed and dabbed a quick soft kiss on Bluebell's lips. The door banged after her, and her slipper-heels clattered like a goat's feet on the padded stairway. ' " She's a nice little girl, and she just reads in the First Reader, after all," thought Bluebell, dozing off, and not comprehending that this was a beginning in her life of finding wonderful images and proving them to be human, CHAPTER XXIV. MISS MELISSA DROPS A FEW HINTS. WHEN Bluebell waked in the morning she heard the cherry-tree whispering in her ear, and saw Liza's dresses hanging on the opposite wall. But the windows were misplaced, and everything swam after she got her eyes open, until the change in her habita- tion occurred to her. Then the Rocky Fork receded and this new home came forward with half-painful reality. Before the child was dressed a tap at the door announced aunt Melissa. Aunt Melissa came in, looking delicate in a white trailing wrapper, and kissed her namesake good-morning. Then she unpacked the trunk, putting everything in its place, and pushed the small inconvenient thing outside the door for Archibald to carry up garret. She left out Bluebell's best calico dress, and the Miss Melissa Drops A Few Hints. 2 7 i little girl put it on, feeling that a perpetual but very serious holiday had come. That dress was good enough to wear to Sunday-school at the Rocky Fork. Tildy and Teeny's best dotted robes did not look any better. She liked it much better than her white. That white was such an unlucky dress. When she had it on she felt so extremely dressed that it dis- tracted her attention from all the pleasant things in life. The first time she wore it she felt her impor- tance expanding to the horizon all around ; Tildy and Teeny in their dotted calicoes were mere maids of honor on her royal progress to church. But a man came along the deep-rutted road in his farm-wagon, and as Bluebell stepped out of his way, the wheel sank with a chug into a hole filled with mud pre- served especially for bespattering the proud. Blue- bell was splashed from head to foot ; even her open-work stockings shared the eruption. The sad- dest part of such a humiliation is, that nobody in the least shares the heartbreak of it. Teeny said she was sorry, but there was no time to stop to scrape the mud off. It would dry as they went along. Her manner plainly implied that in the case of very little girls like Bluebell, it made no dif- ference at all if they looked like frights at church. " You better run back home," said Tildy, holding 272 Rocky Fork. her parasol-handle across her shoulder, much as a woodman carries an axe, though the sun was making her wrinkle her freckled nose frightfull)-. Tildy con- sidered that she knew the proper poise for parasols, and if the sun did not accommodate himself to that, it was his fault and not hers. Bluebell stood crying. " You better run back home," said Tildy again, patronizingly. " Won't you go back with me .' " begged the victim. But Tildy remembered her stiff-necked and con- scious demeanor at the outset. Besides, she was not spattered, and she wanted to go to meeting. She declined going back. Doctor Garde's little girl was smitten with consternation that her own familiar friend refused to share her affliction. She went cry- ing alone through the pine lane. And though the white dress came immediately to the wash-tub, still that recollection clung to it like a stain, and she liked the blue calico much better. It "dressed her up," but raised no wall of separation between her and her fellow-mortals. It simply relieved her of all anxiety about the appearance of Bluebell Garde, and left her the free use of her muscles. The blue dress had a broad belt and a very short skirt, a low neck and short puffed sleeves. Miss Melissa made it Miss Melissa Drops A Few Hints. 273 more ornamental by a fine mull ruffle around the neck. " Shall I put on my black silk apron too ? " inquired Bluebell, as she stood to be hooked up, full of desire to bring herself up to he'r surroundings. \ iv W\ '* l<>x HOMESICK. " I don't think I should," said Miss Melissa gently. Her hands were very soft and cool. She unfastened the pig-tails of auburn hair. " I have some pieces of old blue silk which I think we can turn into a very pretty bodice that you will like to wear better than 2 74 Rocky Fork. an apron. Libbie Biggar has a pink silk bodice wliich is very becoming. I notice there is very good velvet on the apron. With some lace I have, it will make you lovely bretelles." Bluebell's head swam. If she could be spoiled by clothes, Miss Melissa was in a fair way to spoil her. A seamstress was to come that ver)' day to fit the child out, and Miss Melissa looked forward with gentle excitement to this dressing of a living doll. Blue silk bodices and bretelles ! But with that ready acceptance of beautiful things as a right which char- acterizes all children, and grown people too, un.il their fairy-faith is broken by accumulated loads of care, this little girl was able in a few moments to contemplate her prospects with serenity. " But what are bretelles, auntie ? " " Ornamental straps or ladders which little girls wear over light dresses." With a happy sigh. Bluebell gave up the black silk apron ; it occurred to her to regret she had not worn it more. We do not realize that our good things in this world are all transitory, and to be enjoyed promptly, each in its season. They went down-stairs to breakfast. The table was laid as exquisitely as the night before ; in fact, the best things about the house seemed to be used Miss Melissa Drops A Few Hints. 275 every day, without any reference to company. " I am going to give you " — here aunt Melissa paused in pouring coffee to adjust something about the service, and Bluebell waited with a bit of but- tered roll poised half-way to her mouth — "a little party, in a few days, to introduce you to your little associates." " Me ? " said Bluebell, stretching up her thin neck and opening her eyes quite wide. " Yes, my dear." " I never had a party ! The little girl that came in last evening. Miss Libbie Biggar, said she'd had lots of 'em. I don't know any more about havin' parties than about playin' music." "You may begin your music soon. The seminary vacation lasts some weeks yet. I noticed they had the seminary lighted up last evening for trustees' reception. But you need not wait until school opens, Melissa, my dear." Miss Calder lifted a bit of steak very delicately with her fork : the forks were sterling silver, and very different from those to which this little girl had been accustomed. " You are forgetting to eat with your fork, my dear." Bluebell crimsoned. " Why, Liza always told me to eat with my knife ! " 276 Rocky Fork. "But that is not the custom in good — here. I mention it," said Miss Melissa delicately, " because your little associates would probably notice it ; and besides, you want to form your manners, don't you, my dear ? " Bluebell was so anxious to form her manners thai she longed for a fairy wand to change herself into just what she ought to be. With native diffidence, however, she concealed this intense desire for per- fection, and merely nodded her blushing face, saying, " Yes, ma'am." " I notice that you are very obser^dng. If you watch others and do as they do, your manners may be formed easil\'. And Melissa, my dear,"- — -again auntie paused, and altered the arrangement of something on the table with her sensitive hands — " when little boys or girls are introduced to )'0U — " " Oh my ! do they introduce little boys in Sharon ? " " Why, certainly ; little gentlemen and ladies should be presented to each other as such. I was suggesting, «'hen you are introduced to an)' one in fact, it has become the fashion to bow instead of to courtesy.'' Bluebell wondered if she could do anything so boyish. But remembering Miss Libbie Biggar's model bow, her mind was fired with emulation. CHAPTER XXV. EVENTS. SUNDAY came. Dr. Garde's little girl was richer by one music- lesson, which Miss Melissa herself gave her ; and by a blue shirred silk bonnet and muslin-gingham dress, as well as long black mitts, the like of which she had never seen before. Sunday was an important day in Sharon. This old Massachusetts colony retained many Puritan customs. All day the various church bells rang — for Sunday-school, forforenoon, afternoon and evening services. Miss Melissa and Bluebell moved on crowded sidewalks on their way to church. The little girl was astonished by the architecture which she saw around her. The church they entered seemed a sublime pile. They ascended a flight of broad steps, and passed through a matted vestibule into the vastest and whitest place Dr. Garde's little 277 2/8 Rfl(ky Fork. girl had ever seen. The aisles were carpeted, many of the seats were cushioned, the pulpit was a sump- tuous small parlor by itself, and music, so full and mighty that it made the air shudder with delight, came from some invisible place. She followed Miss Melissa's rustling clothes up the central aisle, and was placed beside her in one of the most comfortably padded pews, with footstools under foot, and books in the racks. The tremendous congregation spread on e\ery hand. There were no men's side and women's side ! Families sat in their own seats. The bald head of a father might be seen beside the danc- ing, bonneted head of his daughter. Everjbody seemed solemn but exceedingly comfortable ; and when the music ceased nothing but a whisper of fans could be heard. Through a door at one side of the pulpit came a saint-faced man, who ascended and opened the Bible. He looked very nice, and not a bit like that Mr. Joel Clark at the Rocky Fork who cruelly mortified her one Sunday when she ventured to peep between the leaves of her book while he was preaching in ver)- loud and long-sounding words. Her eye had just caught an old English wood-cut — pos- sibly one of Bewick's — when it seemed the world was tumbling nbout her ears ! She could not believe Events. 279 her senses. Mr. Clafk was pointing liis finger at her, and sinking lier in seas of shame. " That little girl," said he, " who is reading there, had better close her book and listen to the sermon." Then the whole congregation looked at her as if they had always known she was a wretch. Perintha Pancost and Minerva Ridenour, who were just going to look into their books, sat up and appeared virtu- ously wrapped in the discourse, while Mr. Clark went on as if it was just right to crush a shrinking child by the way. And may be it was right. How did Blue- bell know? He was a grown-up, good man, and a preacher, and she a little girl, of no account except in her relationship to Dr. Garde. She held the tears back with heroic struggles, but her face burned with hot blood ; a mark was set upon her ; and whenever Mr. Clark came around on the circuit, she could not bear to pass under his eye ; and if he made an address to the Sunday-school, she cowered down behind the tall seats. This preacher in the Sharon church did not look as if he would point out little girls r there- fore Bluebell liked him. The congregation stood up and turned around to sing, and then she saw the source of the music : two or three key-boards like a treble piano, on which a young man played, and a great row of pipes in a mass of woodwork which she 28o Rocky Fork. did not understand. There were some people who stood in a class holding singing-books, and this sing- ing school was up in a high place like a slice of a second story, and this second story extended also around the sides of the church. Miss Libbie Biggar sat in a pew the other side of a partition, in the most beautiful cherry silk bonnet, tied under her chin with ribbon. It was made like Bluebell's, with a slight flare. What else Miss Lib- bie wore, was concealed by the high partition. Beside her sat an old lady as fair as a lily, in mourning clothes. But that her hair was as white as dandelion- down. Bluebell must have believed her young ; for nowhere in the church could be found a smoother, more delicate face. An old woman, according to Bluebell's observation, was a bent, brown person, wrinkled like a withered apple, like Granny Ride- nour. The two little girls exchanged glances ; then the people stood up ; they sang out of books instead of having their hymns lined two lines at a time by the minister, which Bluebell thought a great improvement herself. Libbie took advantage of this new position to lean over the partition and whisper : " I'm going to call on you to-morrow. We went to E7)ents. 281 Newark, so I couldn't come before. Orpha and Orrell are coming too." ", Yes," nodded Bluebell in trepidation, making signs, for the minister seemed looking over people's heads at them. She wanted to ask what made him lay a pile of writing on the pulpit beside the Bible. The people suddenly kneeled, and Bluebell hurried to drop to her footstool as she saw aunt Melissa do. It was all beautiful, and made her feel good ; but Lib- bie Biggar reached over the partition to whisper again : " You've got a pretty bonnet." Her grandmother pulled her dress as she subsided, and Bluebell could hear her industriously turning over hymn-book leaves. Then everybody resumed his seat ; and the music which had so pleased her glad ear at first, began again triumphantly, and the people in the class up-stairs sang a very beautiful piece, which never afterwards quite left Bluebell's mind. She learned in time to know it as the Te Deum. "There's Orrell," whispered Libbie again, indicat- ing a flossy-haired child at the side of the church. " Oh, don't ! " begged Bluebell ; " he mightn't like it." She cast her eye at the pulpit. " Our minister don't care. I like him. He takes tea at our house. His boy whispers and squirms all the time. Look at him up there." 282 Rocky Fork. Bluebell looked at the boy in a front pew, and felt thankful to see him twisting very restlessly. He was a handsome little fellow ; but, as Mr. Cook would say, not in harmony with his environments. The sermon began, and Libbie's grandmother moved nearer to her. " I don't have to come at evening, do you ? " said Libbie to Bluebell, when service was over. "I don't know," said Bluebell. They moved out in different streams of people, and did not see each other again. After dinner, aunt Melissa brought out her good books and instructed her namesake. They read some poems ; and, before the gas was lighted, had a long talk, sitting with their arms around each other, in which the duties of guardian and charge were dis- cussed. On Monday morning Bluebell practiced her music lesson while aunt Melissa was shopping. After din- ner she put on the muslin gingham, for in this town people frequently wore their Sunday clothes on com- mon days ! — and sat down by her auntie to learn herring-bone stitch. The French clock on the mantel ticked : it was black marble, with a shepherd leaning across the top ; the piano stood open ; when Bluebell had stitched a strip or two, she might prac- Events. 283 tice again. Afternoon checker-work moved on the porch, and shadows chased each other up and clown the pillars. Bluebell felt like some grand little girl in a story, who had a fairy godmother. How pleased father would be to see her learning to be such a lady ! Probably at that moment the scholars in the log school-house were just mopping their faces after recess. What fun they had had ! — but how different the log school-house was from aunt Melissa's drawing- room ! Bluebell's polish at this period began to ha\e a vulgar, varnishy odor. She wondered if it was the proper thing to have gone to school in a log school- house. Libbie Biggar had evidently never clone such a thing, and that pretty, fiuff-haired girl at church could not understand how the benches had a queer, foreign smell, and Mr. Pitzer let them have such good times. Doctor Garde's little girl was noting the dif- erences in externals, and the refining influence of beautiful surroundings ; and in her anxiety to im- prove, she was in danger of forgetting what she owed to the country hills. The knocker was lifted and came down with a boom, ushering in the prettiest and most laughable bit of comedy. Miss Libbie Biggar introduced her friends Misses Orrell Pratt and Orpha Rose, and the three diminutive ladies sat down in large chairs, 2rother is well uncle Abram is well John Tiggard said his long piece the Death of the flowErs Aniandy Willey sent her Respecks excuse Mistakes Mother has got her weavin Most all done . . the Run has not been up since So no more at present Goodbye Matilda Banks. Teeny would not wright Half I wanted her to-. Mother puts this on. I got Ferns pressin in the memoiry of Florence Kidder, write and Tell us how you get on, our sweetins is get- ting Ripe, don't you wish you was here. remember f rends as you pass by as you are now so once was i as I am now So you must be Prepare For deth and follow me. i thought I would end with some Poetry. n. — SHARON TO THE ROCKY FORK. SHARON THE 21 SEPTEMBER DEAR TILDY I HAD TO WAIT TILL I LEARNED TO PRINT. ALL OF THEM LEARN TO PRINT AT THE SEMNARY PREPARATORY 328 Rocky Fork. DEPARTMENT. THERE IS A LETTER BOOK BUT THE LETTERS A INT TO YOU. I THOUT YOUR LETTER WAS VERY NICE ; THE MOUNTAIN TEA WAS SO GOOD. ALL THE GIRLS WANTED SOME. THERE WAS ELIZABETH BIGGAR AND ORRELL PRATT AND ORPA ROSE AND OTHERS TOO NUMEROUS TO MENTION. I STUDDY THE 2ND READER SPELLING GEOGRAPHY AND MENTAL ARITHMETIC AND PRINTING. I LEARNED HOW TO PUT MARKS IN YOUR WRITING. THEY PUT THEM IN BOOKS. TILDY, DID YOU KNOW SHYLOCK IS IN SHAKES- PEARE ? AND GINEVRA IS A MAN NAMED AIISTER ROGERS. AUNT MELISSA IS VERY NICE, SHE MAKES SO MUCH OF US, BUT I LOVE LIZA TOO. GIVE MY LOVE TO LIZA. ROXANA SENDS HER LOVE. SO DOES ALL THE FAMILY. THANK YOU FOR THE MOUNTAIN TEA. BALLIE IS WELL. FATHER RIDES HER TO SEE SICK FOLKS. WE RIDE IN THE CARRIDGE. ROCKKo HAS A NEW WHITE AND A NEW PINK AND SOME GINGHAMB DRESSES. O TILDY, DONT YOU REMEMBER GOING FOR WATER AND BLACKMAN AND THE SPELLING AND GETING FERNS AND ALL THE GOOD TIMES? AND THE TIME YOU AND ME CHURNED PRINTHY PANCOST ! GIVE MY LOVE TO PRINTHY AND MANDY WILLEY AND JO HALL AND JOHN TEGARDEN AND NERVY RIDEANHOUR AND TEENY AND ALL THE BIG BOYS AND GIRLS. GIVE MY ■ M\ ri(..lLKJL UlAl ALM ;.li,Li:^:>A HAD iAUi-.N. j2y Two Letters, 331 LOVE TO MR. PITZER. MY TEACHER IS A LADY. TELL HIM I CAN MOST READ THE BEAUTIFUL LETTER HE GAVE ME. TILDY, YOU MUST COME ANd' SEE US. LIZA MUST COME. SO MUST YOUR MOTHER AND TEENY. I HAVE GOOD TIMES, BUT I DONT FORGET THE ELDER DOLLS AND ALL. MY HAND IS GETTING TIRED. GIVE MY LOVE TO YOUR MOTHER. I LOVE ALL YOU FOLKES AT THE ROCKY FORK. TILDY, I AM COMING TO SEE YOU WHEN THEY BRING ME. I SPOSE POOR MISS EMILY MANDEVILLE IS WITHERD TO DUST. I WISHT YOUD GOT THE prizf:. I WAITED TILL MY HAND GOT RE.STED. MY ROOM IS PRETTY. IT HAS PICTURES AND A BLUE CARPET. I WISHED YOU WAS TO MY PARTY. DONT YOU RE- MEMBER THE BIG STORM, TILDY, WHEN FATHER FETCHED ME HOME ? DO THE NARROWS LOOK JUST THE SAME? THEY DONT HAVE SUNDAY SCHOOL BOOKS LIKE WE DID. THESE HAVE NICE STORIES. FLORENCE KIDDER WAS NOT A BIT GOOD EXCEPT THE PICTURE. I AM GOING TO PUT IN MY PICTURE THAT AUNT MELISSA HAD TAKEN, IT IS ON PAPER. IT IS NOT LIKE MY MOTHERS DAGARTYPE. THIS KIND IS A NEW KIND. THEY CALL IT PHOT- GRAPH. I HAVE ONE FOR LIZA TOO. AUNT M 33- JKockv Foi'k. WILL SEND IT. ROCCO WOULD NOT HOLD STILL. THEV WILL TAKE HERS NKXI' TIME. MY HAND IS REAL ITRED. GOODBYE. BLUEBELL GARDE. DR. GARDES LITTLE GIRL. Writings of Ella Tarman, EDITOR OF WIDE AWAKK. Ella Farman teaches art no less than letters; pidwhat is more than Loth stimulates a pure imagination and wholesome thinking. In her work there is vastly more culture than in the whole schooling supplied lo the average child in the average school. — New York Tribune. The authoress, Ella Farraan, whose skilful editorial management of "Wide Awake" all acquainted with that publication must admire, ;liows that her great capacity to amuse and instruct our growing youth can take a wider range. Her books are exceedingly interesting, and of that fine moral tone which so many books of ths present day lack. — The Times, Canada. A LITTLE WlJMAN. Illustrated, izmo Ji A GIRL'.S MONEY. Illustrated. i2mo GRANDMA CROSBY'S HOUSEHOLD. Illustrated. i2mo GOOD-FOR-NOTHING POLLY. Illustrated. i2mo HOW TWO GIRLS TRIED F'ARMING. Illustrated. i2mn.... COOKING CLUB OF TU-WHIT HOLLOW. Illustrated. i2mo. 1.25 MRS. KURD'S NIECE. Illustrated. i2mo 1.50 ANNA MAYLIE. Illustrated. i2mo 1.50 A WHITE HAND. Illustrated. i2mo 1.50 The above set of nine volumes will be furnished at $10.00. ** " For sale by all Booksellers. Sent by mail, post-paid, by D. LOTHROP & CO., Franklin St., Boston. POPULAR BOOKS BY Joseph Banvard, D. D. FIRST EXPLORERS OF NORTH AMERICA; or, Discoveries AND Adventures in the New World. PIONEERS OF THE NEW WORLD. SOUTHERN EXPLORERS AND COLONISTS. PLYMOUTH AND THE PILGRIMS ; or, Incidents of Adventure in THE HiSTORV OF THE FiRST SETTLERS. SOLDIERS AND PATRIOTS OF THE AMERICAN REVOLU- TION. Every library should be furnished with this series of American Histories. — New Engla7id Farmer. No more interesting and instructive reading can be put into the hands of youth. — Portland Transcript. Every American should own these books. — Scientific American. All published uniform wiih iliis volume Price $1.25 each. Sold by alt booksellers, and sent free of postage on receipt uf price, by D. LOTHROP & CO., BOSTON. I