nun. 
 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil 
 
 http://archive.org/details/mrrutherfordschiOOwarn 
 
MLLEJf M02TTG0MKRT3 B00XCA3& 
 
 MR. RUTHERFORD'S CHILDREN, 
 
ELLEN MONTGOMERY'S BOOKSHELF, 
 
 BY THE AUTHORS OF 
 "thb wide, wide world," "qtteeohy," "dollars and cents,' 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 MR. RUTHERFORD'S CHILDREN 
 
 BOSTON : 
 SHEPARD, CLARK & BROWN, 
 
 110 Washington Street. 
 
Znter«d ftc«ordto£ to Art »f Congreafl, in tha jfsar 1S33, Oy 
 
 €. P. PUTMAM JL*t COMPANT, 
 
 la t*w C!«rk*t Otike of th« DUtrict Court of tke United States for th* SoutW* Dijftnot <* 
 Hew Tork. 
 
THE STORY 
 
 ELLEN MONTGOMERY'S BOOKSHELF. 
 
 rPHOSE people who ever knew Ellen Mont- 
 gomery will remember, perhaps, her friend- 
 Miss Alice ; and perhaps remember, too, that 
 in Miss Alice's bookcase at the parsonage 
 Ellen found a supply of pleasure for her read- 
 ing-time. There were Cook's Voyages, and 
 Plutarch's Lives, and divers other books with 
 which she used to delight herself, in those days 
 when yet she was living with Miss Fortune. 
 All this was told about in the history of Ellen 
 which has been published. But it was not told 
 in that history, as indeed no book can tell 
 quite every thing, that there were a few of Miss 
 Alice's early childish books, for which, as well 
 
6 THE STORY OF 
 
 as for the grander works mentioned above, 
 Ellen Montgomery had a great favour ; and not 
 Ellen Montgomery alone, but Ellen Chauncey 
 also. When she had once read them, Ellen by 
 degrees gathered them all down from the upper 
 part of the bookcase and stowed them away by 
 themselves on a short shelf near the bottom, 
 where she could easily and at any time get at 
 them; Miss Alice having cleared out for her 
 the books that used to stand there before. 
 
 And it fell out one time, that Mr. John hav- 
 ing brought home a set of new books, was 
 looking for a place to put them, and happened 
 upon the row of Ellen's favourites. " "What do 
 these children's books down here, Alice?" said 
 he, pulling them out;— "the place for these is 
 at the top." " O stop, you mustn't, John," said 
 his sister ; — " that is Ellen Montgomery's book* 
 shelf." And Mr. John smiled and put the 
 books back again ;iri due order; though not so 
 well but that Ellen, the next time she came, 
 found that somebody had been meddling with 
 
ellen Montgomery's bookshelf. 7 
 
 them. For she had left " Mr. Rutherford's 
 Children" at one end, and "The Christmas 
 Stocking" next it; and now "The Christmas 
 Stocking" was at the end, and " The Breakfast 
 Table" next, and " Mr. Rutherford's Children" 
 in the middle. 
 
 It is possible, I suppose, that other children 
 might like what Ellen liked. But these books 
 of hers cannot be found now at any of the 
 bookstores. So we will give out the first 
 volume of " Mr. Rutherford's Children" (there 
 are several volumes) by way of trial ; and 
 if that is liked well enough, " The Christmass 
 Stocking ;" and in time, maybe, the whole 
 bookshelf. I hope they will be liked, because 
 else the "Bookshelf" will never be finished; 
 and unfinished things are disagreeable. 
 
 I am the friend of all Ellen Montgomery's 
 
 friends, 
 
 ELIZABETH WETHERELL. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PA0 , 
 
 WHERE THEY LIVED 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, AND THE MINISTER 20 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CHERRY AND DASH, AND WHERE THEY WENT 39 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE WET STRAWBERRIES 64 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HEADACHE AND LOCUST FLOWERS 71 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHAT SHALL I GIVE ? 80 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SYBIL'S BIRTHDAY 95 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CHICKENS AND EGGS 105 
 
10 CONTEXTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. i-aob 
 
 THE SILK-WORMS AND THE BUTTERFLY DOOR 126 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CAT8 AND CRACKERS , 143 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 CLEAVELAND 159 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL 178 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CURIOSITY BOX 193 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 CHRYSS A AND HER COUSIN 211 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 GOING A PLEASURING 228 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE END OF THE SUMMER 243 
 

 WHERE T B E Y LIVE D. 
 
 ILD-ROSE lane ran clown 
 from Dusty turnpike to the sea-shore, but as 
 you might suppose, it was a long distance 
 between the two. No one who saw the clouds 
 
12 WHERE THEY LIVED. 
 
 of dust 0:1 the turnpike, or the sparkling of the 
 blue water of the sea, would think there could 
 be a straight road from the one to the other. 
 To say truth the lane was not straight. For a 
 while after it left the turnpike its course was 
 pretty direct, but then you might have thought 
 that the lane was sometimes sociable and some- 
 times solitary in its taste ; for it would run off 
 on purpose to meet a queerlooking little brown 
 house with ever so many children and pigs and 
 chickens, and a little black dog that barked at 
 everything but the lane ; and then as if the lane 
 itself were quite disgusted, it would take a short 
 turn into the cool quiet woods. It was a won- 
 der it did not stay there always. 
 
 A great many things lived by the side of this 
 lane. And first there were the wild roses, which 
 grew finely and just as they felt inclined, — wan- 
 dering about after the lane's example. They 
 climbed over the fence and hung down their 
 heads to look through it ; and they laid their 
 little red cheeks on the rails and on the posts 
 and sometimes on the green bank below ; only 
 
WHERE THEY LIVED. 13 
 
 the buds stood up quite straight to look about 
 them. They were very plain common roses, with 
 four or five red petals and a great yellow centre; 
 but they were very sweet nevertheless, and now 
 and then their perfume came up even to Dusty 
 turnpike. 
 
 Among the roses the little birds built their 
 nests, and lived there with the thorns to protect 
 them. Nobody conld see the nests from the lane; 
 only you could see the birds lighting upon the 
 roses and then creeping into some little place 
 where there must have been something in the 
 shape of a house. The song sparrows had 
 bluish eggs with brown speckles all over, and the 
 chipping birds had light blue eggs with dark 
 spots at one end. Nobody ever disturbed them, 
 for the lane was very quiet; and when the rose 
 leaves fell down upon the eggs there was nothing 
 to brush them off but the wind, and that could 
 hardly get in, the hedge was so thick 
 
 A great many butterflies lived in the lane, and 
 the bees did not live there exactly, but they came 
 every day and then weut back to the hive at 
 
14 WHERE THEY LIVED. 
 
 night; and there were some caterpillars too, but 
 that there always will be where there are butter- 
 flies, and the birds had the less trouble to get 
 their breakfasts. Only the little chippingbirds 
 had a very nice taste and preferred bread; and 
 they used to fly off to Mr. Rutherford's house, 
 and pick up the crumbs that were shaken from 
 the table-cloth and swept out of the door. 
 
 For Mr. Rutherford lived by the side of Wild 
 Rose lane ; and he thought there were no butter- 
 flies so merry and no red-cheeked roses so sweet, 
 as Sybil and Chryssa, his two little daughters. 
 They were not really his daughters, though he 
 called them so; and though he loved them and 
 they him as if he had been their father; but he 
 was only their father's brother. 
 
 Sybil and Chryssa were orphans. Before they 
 were old enough to know and feel the sorrow or 
 the loss, God took away both their parents from 
 earth to heaven; and indeed there was no reason 
 to feel sorrow, for the children were as well taken 
 care of as they could be, and their father and 
 mother had loved God and tried to serve him 
 
WHERE THEY LIVED. 15 
 
 while they were here, and had prayed him to for- 
 give them for Christ's sake; and the Bible says 
 that, ""Whosoever believeth in him hath eternal 
 life." 
 
 Mr. Rutherford's house stood just by the side 
 of the lane. It was large and white, with a 
 front piazza and a back piazza, and a great 
 many windows. From some of these windows 
 you could look far away, over green meadows 
 and streams of water, to where the sun used to 
 set in summer; but in winter it went down be- 
 hind a clump of pine trees. In front of the 
 house you could see very little way, — there was 
 just the lawn and the hedge, and then on the 
 other side of the lane there were a great many 
 cherry trees that stood up so straight that their 
 heads seemed to touch the sky. It was quite a 
 wonder to see the boys climb up after the cher- 
 ries, — but they never seemed to fall, whatever the 
 reason was. 
 
 All about the lawn in front of Mr. Ruther- 
 ford's house there were a great many flowers ; 
 and behind the house though there were no 
 
1 6 - WHERE THEY LIVED. 
 
 flowers there was another green lawn, which 
 stretched away till it fell in with a grove of 
 locust trees. Beyond the grove the hill went 
 down very fast, and at the foot there stood the 
 barns and carriage-house. 
 
 Further still, outside the barnyard, was the" cow's 
 green meadow and the brook where the water- 
 cresses grew. 
 
 Within doors it was no less pleasant. The 
 drawing-room was oval-shaped and had three 
 windows. Here stood a little tea-table, a large 
 old-fashioned mahogany sofa with chairs to match, 
 and two little benches — the favourite seats of Mr. 
 Rutherford's children. The paper on the walls 
 had a yellow ground with large bunches of green 
 flowers ; brass andirons stood in the open fire- 
 place; there were vases of artificial flowers on 
 the mantel-piece, and any number of flowers in 
 the green carpet. 
 
 In the back parlour were two pantries, a 
 brown carpet, a sideboard instead of a sofa, and 
 maple chairs instead of mahogany. There were 
 two benches here also,' and on one of these 
 
WHERE THEY 1,1 V ED. 11 
 
 Chryssa seated herself the first day of her arri- 
 val, and looking up at the vases said, 
 
 "Well this is a fine house!" 
 But when I say her arrival, I mean only her 
 return home after a winter spent in town, when 
 she was of that happy age which forgets between 
 fall and spring. For in this house had Chryssa 
 spent the most of her short life, and even 
 Sybil could remember little of any other. Here 
 had Mr. Rutherford's children lived all the years 
 that their father and mother had been in heaven; 
 and God had watched over them, and kept them 
 alive and well and happy. They did not always 
 think who it was that took such care of them, — 
 that gave them sleep at night, that let them 
 awake every morning to such pleasant days, — 
 they did not know that God never forgot them — 
 that he took much better care of the two little 
 helpless children than their father and mother 
 could have done; yet it was so. And Mr. Ruth- 
 erford's children were very happy. Plain and 
 simple as everything was at Rose Hill, Chryssa 
 found enough to admire; whether she studied the 
 
18 WHERE THET LIVED. 
 
 green lilies of the valley on the drawing-room 
 paper, or the many colours in the drawing-room 
 carpet; and in the garden there was always some- 
 thing beautiful. To look at the dark blue spider- 
 flower and wonder whence came its name; to find 
 the little red and white poppies and the merry- 
 faced johnny-jumpers springing up in the gravel 
 walk; and above all to stand and watch the 
 evening-primroses at sundown, and give them one 
 of her gentle breaths when they did not open 
 fast enough, — these were neverfailing pleasures. 
 
 The two children slept in a large room over 
 the back parlour, with only a closet between 
 it and their aunt's room. Their own room was 
 the pleasantest, Chryssa thought, for it had three 
 windows ; and she was very fond of the great 
 mahogany bedstead where they slept, and of 
 the polished brass andirons where she used to 
 see the queer reflection of her own face, and 
 the green wire fender with its brass top-rail all 
 studded with brass knobs, like the turrets on a 
 battlement. 
 
 It is evening in this room ; and on the edge 
 
WHERE THEY LIVED. 19 
 
 of the bed kneels a very little child, while in. 
 front of her — standing and making of her arms 
 and herself a sort of barricade — is a girl some 
 years older. And what are they doing? The 
 elder child is trying to teach the younger her 
 first prayer ; and the baby — as I may almost 
 call her — somewhat unwillingly, and with a very 
 slight sense of the meaning and importance of 
 the words, repeats after her sister in her own 
 broken English, 
 
 " Our Father which art iu Heaven." 
 
 And this was the first thing that little Chryssa 
 could remember about herself. 
 

 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, AND THE MINISTER. 
 
 TT was summer weather, and Chryssa wore no 
 stockings but only little high morocco shoes 
 tied round the ancle. 
 Thus it happened one morning, that while Sybil 
 
THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 21 
 
 still sat on the floor busy covering her bare feet, 
 Chryssa sprang up, exclaiming, 
 
 "Ah, I have got done first!" 
 
 "Good reason why," said Sybil; "you had no 
 stockings to put on. But I wonder what you 
 call ' done,' — look at your shoe-strings." 
 
 " Because I don't know how to tie a bow-knot, 
 and if I tie 'em in a hard knot they'll never 
 come out. O here is a little stone that's got to 
 come out — in my shoe. Wouldn't it be nice to 
 wear bare feet ? — so cool." 
 
 " But nobody does, except poor children," said 
 Sybil. 
 
 " yes," said Chryssa ; " the chickens have 
 bare feet — and the cats." 
 
 "No, the cats have stockings," said Sybil; "fur 
 stockings." 
 
 "How nice that would be," said Chryssa, 
 laughing. "I wish I was a cat." 
 
 "I don't wish you were," said Sybil, "because 
 then I should be one too." 
 
 "Then we'd be two kittens," said Chryssa; 
 "with whiskers and fur stockings." 
 
I'l THE B1RPS, THE CRAVAT, ETC 
 
 " And claws," pai<l Sybil. 
 
 " No, we wouldn't have any claws," said 
 Chryssa, " because you know we shouldn't want 
 to scratch anybody. And we wouldn't have 
 green eyes either. But oh Sybil, wont you show 
 me how to tie a bow-knot?" 
 
 And sitting down on the floor opposite her 
 sister, the two little feet were stretched out with 
 their dangling shoe-strings. 
 
 " Now do you see ?" said Sybil. " You make 
 a loop of this one so, and put the other round 
 so, and " 
 
 "But I can't see so/" exclaimed Chryssa. 
 " You must come alongside of me." 
 
 " yes you can," said Sybil as she drew the 
 knot. " Now you can tie the other one in the 
 same way." 
 
 " I can't — I don't know how. You must come 
 here and show me." 
 
 "No indeed," said Sybil, "you can see perfectly 
 well if you will only take the trouble," and up 
 she got and began to brush her hair ; while 
 Chryssa sat looking at her outstretched feet, the 
 
THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 23 
 
 tied shoe and the untied shoe, with a very 
 doubtful face. 
 
 " Why Chryssa, what is the matter that you 
 look so disconsolate ?" said Mrs. Rutherford as 
 she threw open the closet door and came in. 
 "There isn't a bit of fog out of doors this 
 morning, how comes there to be any in here V 
 
 "What does the fog do?" said Chryssa, look- 
 ing up with a brightened face. 
 
 " The fog makes the blue sky look grey and 
 the sun look dim, and everything else dark and 
 
 uncomfortable." 
 
 " Except the spider's webs," said Chryssa. 
 " Ah Aunt Esther, you forget how bright they 
 look with the dewdrops on them." 
 
 " Well, but are your eyelashes spider's webs ?" 
 said her aunt as she took Chryssa up on her 
 lap. 
 
 "I guess not," said Chryssa laughing and shak- 
 ing her head about; "but you see Aunt Esther 
 I didn't know how to tie a bow-knot, and Sybil 
 Wouldn't show me so that I could learn." 
 
 "So that you would learn," said Sybil 
 
24 THK BIRDS., THE CRAVAT, ETC. 
 
 "There Ls a verse in the Bible," said Mrs 
 Rutherford who was quietly tying the other 
 shoe, " which says, ' Little children love one 
 another.' " 
 
 Chryssa looked down at her shoes, and Sybil 
 brushed her hair more earnestly than ever. 
 
 " I think there's a verse in the Bible for almost 
 everything," she said at last, " but then one 
 never remembers 'em at the right time. I can 
 think of plenty of verses afterwards." 
 
 " Aunt Esther, did you ever learn the whole 
 Bible by heart ?" inquired Chryssa. 
 
 " No love, I never did." 
 
 "What an idea!" said Sybil. "I don't believe 
 anybody could." 
 
 " I believe some people have done it," said 
 her aunt. "But without learning the whole 
 Bible, Sybil, you and Chryssa might learn one 
 verse every day, and see how well you can obey 
 it." 
 
 " That would be so nice," said Chryssa. 
 " What verse shall we learn to-day ? ' Little 
 children love one another ?' " 
 
THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 25 
 
 " Yes," said her aunt smiling, " I think that 
 will do very well." 
 
 Chryssa jumped down from her seat, and then 
 she danced all the way down stairs and into the 
 garden to bid the flowers good morning. Noth- 
 ing could be more fresh and lovely than they 
 all were ; and as she walked along from moss- 
 pink to periwinkle, her admiration was too great 
 to be spoken, she could only fold her hands and 
 look at the beauties with a very grave little face 
 indeed. But by the time she had gone once 
 round the lawn the bell rang. 
 
 " Aunt Esther !" she cried as she ran in, 
 " there's such a beautiful sweet-william out ! — with 
 pink stripes and dark in the middle." 
 
 The family were all gathered in the back par- 
 lour for prayers, but Chryssa was in no mood 
 for anything quiet; and though she did keep still 
 until prayers were over, she came singing to the 
 breakfast-table, and while a blessing was asked 
 her eyes went out of the window. 
 
 It so happened that one of the chipping-birds 
 had already come from the lane to get crumbs ; 
 
26 THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 
 
 and he hopped about the piazza, and gave 
 Chryssa a look out of his little bright eyes that 
 was quite irresistible — Chryssa laughed. 
 
 " That was very naughty," said Mr. Rutherford, 
 gravely though gently, when he had concluded. 
 
 Chryssa coloured and hung her head. 
 
 " I saw a bird in the piazza," she said ; " and 
 it looked at me, and I laughed." 
 
 " We hold down our heads," replied her uncle, 
 " that we may see nothing to make us forget 
 that we are speaking to God. "We cannot expect 
 him to bless us if we think of something else 
 while we ask for his blessing." 
 
 Chryssa understood and remembered, and never 
 again listened with open eyes. 
 
 Breakfast over, Mr. Rutherford began to make 
 ready for town, and the children ran off to do 
 their part of the preparation. This was to get 
 the prettiest rose that could be found on either 
 of their own little monthly rose-bushes ; for they 
 never forgot that their uncle Eked to have one 
 in his mouth as he drove down to the city ; and 
 there was generally quite a consultation as to 
 
THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 27 
 
 which rose was the largest and pinkest and 
 sweetest. This morning the best was found upon 
 Chryssa's bush, and she followed her uncle to the 
 willow-tree where the gig stood, with the rose in 
 her hand and some request in her mouth which 
 was the subject of a long confidential whisper. 
 
 "What were you talking about?" said Sybil 
 as Mr. Rutherford drove off and Chryssa came 
 skipping back from the willow-tree. 
 
 " never mind — you musn't ask. Suppose we 
 go look for those queer flowers in the grass, — 
 don't you want to ? And oh Sybil, let's watch 
 the little bird on her nest ; but we'll find the 
 flowers first." 
 
 The flowers grew on a long stalk here and 
 there among the grass. The grass was pretty 
 tall now too, though not ready for mowing ; but 
 these particular flowers that the children were so 
 fond of, were taller still, and lifted their purple 
 heads above the green blades of grass modestly 
 enough perhaps, but still in a very decided man- 
 ner. The flower itself was quite pretty, but the 
 plant's chief attraction lay in the stem. 
 
28 THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 
 
 " See, here is a fine one, Chryssa," said Sybil 
 when they had run about for a few minutes. 
 Chryssa stood eagerly by to watch while her 
 sister broke off the flower. From the end of the 
 stem came out some large drops that looked like 
 very thick milk : Sybil held that end in the sun- 
 shine, and immediately the white drops began to 
 grow yellowish, then orange, and then of so deep 
 a colour that they looked more like molasses 
 than milk. At this point the flower was thrown 
 away and a fresh one sought out. 
 
 The bees were humming around the white clover, 
 and the butterflies were flitting lazily about in 
 a dainty sort of a way ; and the birds in the 
 hedge sang as if their throats were full of music. 
 The children ran about till they were tired, and 
 then jumped into the long grass and lay down. 
 And the grass stood up straight on all sides of 
 them, so that all anybody could see at first was 
 a broken place in the grass, — then they could 
 find what looked like a picture of Sybil and 
 Chryssa in a pretty green frame. 
 
 " How pleasant it is !" said Chryssa, shutting 
 
THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 29 
 
 up her eyes quite tight. " I don't want to go 
 in ever — do you ?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Sybil. "I suppose I 
 might, some time or other. If it was tea-time 
 — and we had strawberries for tea." 
 
 " Oh if it was tea-time," said Chryssa, — " but 
 that's a great way off. And I don't care about 
 dinner much." 
 
 " I wonder what the little bird's doing," said 
 Sybil, " and how she gets on with her nest. 
 Suppose we go see." 
 
 " Well, suppose we do," said Chryssa. 
 
 So they got up and left their own little nests 
 m the grass, and went to the house and into 
 the front parlour. The window at which they 
 placed themselves opened upon the piazza, along 
 the front of which roses and honeysuckles 
 stretched and twined themselves, supported by 
 two or three iron chains. Among the leaves 
 and flowers by which the chains were quite 
 hidden, a little brown bird was building her 
 nest. The children stood perfectly quiet, hardly 
 daring to stir for fear of frightening her, and 
 
30 THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 
 
 watched the progress of the work. The nest 
 was nearly finished. Little sticks and twigs and 
 stalks of hay were nicely platted together, to 
 make a rough-looking little tea-cup, — rough on 
 the outside, but within there were no twigs 
 allowed to show themselves, only dry grass ; and 
 now the bird brought long horse-hairs and wove 
 them iiij to make the nest still softer. Then she 
 sat on the edge of the nest with her head a 
 little on one side, lost in doubt or admiration — 
 Chryssa could not tell which. 
 
 "What do you suppose birdie is thinking of?" 
 said she softly. 
 
 "Thinking how nice her nest looks, maybe," said 
 Sybil. " There she goes !" 
 
 She was gone a longer time than usual, the chil- 
 dren thought, and they were talking very earnestly 
 about the reason ; but when they looked again 
 there she sat on the edge of the nest, and in her 
 bill a little white feather. She turned her head 
 about two or three times, gave a little low chirp, 
 and then jumped down into the nest, feather and 
 all 
 
THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 31 
 
 " The nest must be 'most clone now," said 
 Chryssa joyfully, "because birdie is making her 
 bed." 
 
 "Miss Chryssa," said Janet who had come into 
 the room without being noticed, so busy were eyes/ 
 and thoughts with the bird. " Miss Chryssa, here 
 is something for you Miss. Michael is just come 
 home with the gig a minute ago, and he brought 
 it." 
 
 " For me ?" said Chryssa, — " what can it be ! 
 Are you sure it's for me Janet ?" 
 
 " That's what Michael says, Miss." 
 
 "Do open it, Chryssa," said her sister. 
 
 Chryssa unfolded one corner of the parcel and 
 immediately hugged it up to her breast with a face 
 of great delight. 
 
 " How very good !" she cried. " O I'm so 
 glad ! Uncle Ruth is too good !" 
 
 "But what is it?" 
 
 " Why you see," said Chryssa, " I asked him — 
 but I didn't think he'd do it to-day — to get a 
 little silk handkerchief for Aunt Esther ; and 
 then as soon as he got to town he bought one 
 
32 THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 
 
 and made Michael bring it home. Isn't be 
 good T[ 
 
 " But what made you ask him V 
 
 " Because I heard her say she wanted one, 
 and I thought I should like to give it to her. 
 And you see," continued Chryssa as she undid 
 the parcel, " it's perfectly beautiful ! I like the 
 colour so much, — it's straw-colour ; and it's fringed 
 too. Come, let's go give it to her ;" and they 
 raD away up stairs, where all the exclamations 
 of pleasure were again and again repeated. 
 
 The children had finished all their lessons and 
 eaten dinner; and now the sun was sinking slowly 
 down in the west, and the long shadows lay 
 across the lawn from one side to the other. 
 Everything looked a little weary and quiet. The 
 countrymen drove down the lane in their wagons 
 which had looked so spruce and clean when they 
 went to market in the morning ; but now the 
 wheels were muddy, and the rest of the wagon 
 splashed and soiled, and the horses hung down 
 their heads and trotted slowly along ; and even 
 the countrymen looked tired, but they remem- 
 
THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 33 
 
 bered that they were going home to tea, and 
 then touched their horses with the whip to make 
 them go faster. 
 
 The chickens had finished their tea, and were 
 sauntering along to bed, but stopping to eat 
 everything they found by the way ; and the birds 
 were looking for a nice roosting-place in the 
 trees, and some of the flowers were folding up 
 their pretty leaves ; while the evening-primroses 
 were just beginning to open their eyes, which were 
 too weak to bear the sunlight. Up in the sky 
 the clouds were bright with red and gold-colour 
 and purple, that did not look as if they could 
 ever sleep ; yet they too would by and by be grey 
 and quiet like all the rest. 
 
 Sybil sat in the drawing-room window reading 
 " Northern Regions," and Chryssa stood by her side 
 with " Original Poems" in her hand, but just then 
 she was looking out of the window. For the little 
 bird seemed inclined to try her feather bed, and she 
 had got into the nest and out again about half-a- 
 dozen times ; fidgeting and chirping and hopping 
 about as if she did not know what to do with her- 
 
 9* 
 
34 THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 
 
 self. Cliryssa watched her with great interest,— 
 then she heard the gate at the foot of the lawn 
 open and shut. Sybil heard it too, and looked 
 out. 
 
 " There comes Mr. Mcllvaine, Aunt Esther," she 
 said. 
 
 " Who is Mr. Mcllvaine ?" said Chryssa stand- 
 ing up on her toes to see the better. 
 
 "Why our minister — that preaches to us every 
 Sunday," said Sybil going back to " Northern Re- 
 gions." 
 
 "Aunt Esther," said Chryssa who was endeav- 
 ouring to make up her mind how she liked Mr. 
 Mcllvaine out of the pulpit, " do all ministers wear 
 black clothes?" 
 
 "A great many of them — perhaps all." 
 
 " And do they all look so grave, as if they didn't 
 feel happy?" 
 
 But Mrs. Rutherford had no time to answer this 
 difficult question, for the visiter came in and took 
 his seat by the window. 
 
 Chryssa eyed him with some distrust : neither 
 black clothes nor grave looks quite suited her 
 
THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 35 
 
 notions ; and Mr. Mcllvaioe was not destined this 
 day to grow in her favour. For a while she 
 looked at him with a face as grave as his own, 
 and then going to the sofa she began softly to 
 " slide down hill" upon one of its round cushions ; 
 and her mind being thus happily diverted from all 
 sublunary affairs, she was greatly astonished when 
 Mr. Mcllvaine suddenly turned round and addressed 
 himself to her. 
 
 " How many eyes have you, Chryssa V said 
 he. 
 
 Nobody could have mistakeu the number of 
 Chryssa's eyes at that moment. The question 
 was asked just when she and the cushion had 
 pleasantly reached the ground together ; but 
 without making any attempt to regain her place 
 on the sofa, Chryssa sat still on the cushion 
 aud opening her eyes very wide indeed, answered, 
 
 "Two, sir." 
 
 " And how many ears ?" said Mr. Mcllvaine 
 without smiling in the least. 
 
 Chryssa thought for a minute to make sure 
 she had the right number, and said as before, 
 
36 THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 
 
 "Two, sir." 
 
 " And only one mouth, have you ? How 
 many ?" 
 
 The little mouth said very softly, 
 
 " One." 
 
 " You have two eyes, and two ears, and only 
 one mouth ; — then you should see a great deal, 
 and hear a great deal, and say very little." 
 
 Chryssa looked exceedingly mystified but ven- 
 tured no reply, and the sofa cushion was left 
 to take care of itself for the rest of the visit ; 
 while she sat with her hands folded, only rest- 
 ing herself now and then by changing their 
 position, and putting sometimes the right hand 
 on top and sometimes the left, or by drawing 
 a very soft long breath. 
 
 At last the visiter went away, and then the 
 tongue began to assert its rights. 
 
 "Aunt Esther, was I making any noise?" 
 
 " ISot the least." 
 
 " Then what made him say that to me ?" 
 
 " I suppose he thought it was a good thing 
 for children to know and remember." 
 
THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 37 
 
 "You don't think so, Aunt Esther," said 
 Chryssa, leaning her arms upon Mrs. Ruther- 
 ford's lap and looking up in her face. "You 
 like to have me talk and ask questions ?" 
 
 "Yes dear, always. But strangers mightn't 
 like it so well— they might call it troublesome." 
 
 " I shall never ask him any !" said Chryssa, 
 " and I didn't, either. But Aunt Esther when 
 I said there was a little grease spot on Mrs. 
 Auable's frock, she said children shouldn't have 
 such sharp eyes." 
 
 " Don't you think the tongue had something 
 to do there, Chryssa ?" said her aunt smiling. 
 
 " Yes," said Sybil, " you know you are to 
 see a great deal more than you tell." 
 
 "So I did," said Chryssa : " there were two 
 grease spots. And I thought it was very kind 
 to tell her of 'em." 
 
 " I have no doubt of your good intentions, 
 my dear," said Mrs. Rutherford, "but by and by 
 you will understand the difference between other 
 people's business and your own. And for the 
 present, try never to hear what you are not 
 
38 THE BIRDS, THE CRAVAT, ETC. 
 
 wanted to hear, nor to say anything that will 
 trouble anybody, — then your little ears and 
 tongue will be in pretty good order." 
 
 " And how about the eyes, Aunt Esther ?" 
 said Sybil. 
 
 " If our eyes are often lifted up to God for 
 his help and blessing, he will not let them go 
 far wrong," said her aunt. " And then we 
 shall look at ourselves with more knowledge, 
 and at our neighbours with more charity." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 CHERRY AND DASH, AND WHERE THEY WENT. 
 
 rpHE carriage-house and barn stood, as I have 
 
 said, at the foot of the hill behind the 
 
 house. The road wound round through the 
 
 trees, going pleasantly down all the while, till 
 
40 CHERRY AND DASH, 
 
 it came to the barn-yard gate. Here were 
 a number of buildings, — the carriage-house and 
 harness-room, the barn, Jthe stable, and the cow- 
 house. Round the barn-yard there was quite a 
 high wall. 
 
 " Come Chryssa," said Sybil one afternoon, 
 " let's go down and see Michael harness the 
 horses." 
 
 " Are we going to ride V said Chryssa. 
 " Because if we are we must get ready." 
 
 " O we'll have time enough — I can get ready 
 while he's driving up the hill, can't you ? We'll 
 start just before him." 
 
 "Well," said Chryssa. "But we shall have 
 to run very fast. Come." 
 
 Off they went, down the road and through 
 the locust trees, till they came to a shady 
 place near the top of the wall. There they 
 sat down. 
 
 Everything looked very pretty. The sun was 
 just high enough to throw a beautiful yellow 
 light between the long shadows, and the sky 
 was perfectly blue, without the least bit of a 
 
AND WHERE THEY WENT. 41 
 
 cloud. Far down in the meadow they could 
 see the white cow lying down among the but- 
 tercups, and the red cow standing up and 
 switching her tail about to keep off the flies ; 
 and it would seem that some flies had found 
 their way into the stable, for the horses 
 stamped their feet now and then with great 
 energy. The chickens were picking about the 
 barn-yard, and sometimes an old hen would 
 stoop her head and go under the fence, and 
 then stoop her head and come back again. 
 One hen, with buff-coloured feathers, was rolling 
 and kicking in a dusty corner, as if her object 
 was to get as dirty as possible. 
 
 " What a hen !" said Chryssa. " I never did 
 like that old yellow hen." 
 
 "Your white hen has been there too," said 
 Sybil, " and there she goes again — see. I won- 
 der where Speckle is." 
 
 " there she is, down in the meadow by 
 Whiteside," said Chryssa. " I can just see her. 
 How red her comb is !" 
 
 Michael now came down the road and threw 
 
42 CHERRY AND DASH, 
 
 open the great doors of the carriage-house, and 
 drew out the barouche into the road. Then he 
 shut the doors again, and went through a little 
 door into the harness-room, and coming out 
 with a great load of leather and brass trap- 
 pings, he went off to the stable. 
 
 " Now he'll have 'em out very soon," said 
 Sybil. '• I hear him, — what do you suppose he 
 means by ' Come up, sir !' ?" 
 ■ " I don't know," said Chryssa. " Maybe one 
 of 'em was lying down." 
 
 And now the stable door opened, and a 
 pretty brown horse bearing his half of the 
 load of leather, came out, and marched along 
 through the gate which Michael had left open 
 till he came to the carriage ; and then he 
 stepped very carefully over the pole and took 
 his place at the other side of it. 
 
 " That's Cherry !" exclaimed both the children 
 together. " How pretty he looks ! how nice he 
 is ! That's just the way he always does. And 
 there comes Michael leading Dash." 
 
 Michael put Dash in his place, and began 
 
AND WHERE THEY WENT. 43 
 
 to make all fast ; and then stroking his hand 
 over Cherry and giving him one or two pats, 
 he looked up and smiled at the children, as much 
 as to say, " Did you ever see a better brushed 
 coat ?" and the children looked at the smooth, 
 shining horses, and the clean harness and carriage, 
 and the bright brass mountings, and smiled back 
 their approbation. Then they ran away to the 
 house to get ready. 
 
 In those days Sybil and Chryssa wore nankeen 
 coats with tight sleeves and two or three little 
 round capes ; or if the weather was very warm, 
 they put on white Vandykes and long white sleeves 
 made like a mitt at the hand. These sleeves had 
 strings at the top, which were pushed under the 
 short froek-sleeves and tied to the shoulder strap, 
 — in Chryssa's opinion it was a most ingenious 
 system of torture. She thought her frock-sleeve 
 was never made large enough for her arm and 
 somebody's hot fingers beside ; and by the time 
 she was fairly equipped she was in a fidget all 
 over. But these uncomfortable feelings soon van- 
 ished when she was seated in the barouche and 
 
44 CHERRY AND DASH, 
 
 wheeling round the lawn ; and once through the 
 gate and out on the open road, with the fresh 
 air and the sweet sight and smell of the wild 
 roses in the hedge — it would have taken much 
 more than heat or uncomfortable sleeves to cloud 
 her face. Sometimes she sat on the back seat 
 among the cushions, and her feet not within speak- 
 ing distance of the floor, sometimes both children 
 were on the front seat together. 
 
 And there they would sit — watching the shad- 
 ows of the coachman and horses, of the carriage 
 and their own little selves, straw bonnets and 
 all, as they danced up and down the road-side — 
 now on the grass and now on the ground and 
 now in the hedge, — and wondering what made 
 the horses' legs so long and their bodies so 
 short ! 
 
 Once in a while they went towards the sea- 
 shore, and then the water would come glimmer- 
 ing and sparkling through the trees long before 
 they reached it : and when they got nearer, and 
 Michael stopped the horses, the children could 
 hear the waves splash and break upon the beach 
 
AND WHERE THEY WENT. 45 
 
 with a sound that was enough to put one to 
 sleep. Sometimes " the shady road" was chosen, 
 through the woodland ; where they rode in a 
 beautiful softened light, with the long shadowy 
 trees thrown across from side to side. Where 
 the squirrels ran races up and down the 
 trees, and the wild flowers grew in the deep 
 shade ; and the birds started from their wayside 
 nests at the sound of the carriage, and fluttered 
 away and then back, as the wheels rolled off. 
 
 And then the drive home — with rather more 
 quietness and soberness than they had set out, — 
 the occasional drooping of little eyelids — the 
 thoughts that came up in little minds about tea 
 and radishes, — the way the horses pricked up 
 their ears and trotted on, as they neared the 
 gate, — the stopping there, for Garret to swing 
 back the great barriers, — the pause at the front 
 steps — a pause of both body and mind, as it 
 were : how pleasant it all was ! And perhaps 
 if Chryssa happened to be particularly sleepy she 
 didn't open her eyes at all till they got to the 
 house : not even to look at the great button-wood 
 
46 CHERRY AXD DASH, 
 
 trees by the gate, nor the flowers that grew 
 round the lawn ; but sat quite still, her little 
 head nodding about, her ears just hearing the 
 grating of the wheels over the gravel stones, but 
 her eyes not once looking out to see whether 
 they ran over the poppies and johnny-junipers as 
 well, until Cherry and Dash stopped at the front 
 steps. It did happen, more than once, that 
 Chryssa failed to open her eyes even there ; aud 
 that Mr. Rutherford had to lift her out of the 
 carriage and carry her into the house and lay 
 her on the sofa, a very sleepy little child in- 
 deed. And then Sybil would get a little soft 
 blue shawl to lay over her, and Mrs. Rutherford 
 would shut the blinds a little ; and Chryssa knew 
 nothing about that or anything else till she found 
 herself sitting on somebody's lap, and trying very 
 hard to open her eyes. But she usually smiled 
 long before that desirable point was attained, just 
 to let people know that she would wake up as 
 soon as she could. And when Sybil said, 
 
 " Come Chryssa ! don't you want some tea ?"' 
 
 Chryssa said, 
 
AND WHERE THEY WENT. 47 
 
 " Yes — I s'pose so" — and let her head fall on 
 Mr. Rutherford's shoulder again. 
 
 Even on Sunday the children had a ride, but 
 that was only to church ; because Ferrytown was 
 too far away for them to walk. So they used to 
 be ready very early, and drive to church ; and 
 when they had all got out, Michael took the car- 
 riage away to sonic safe place where Cherry and 
 Dash could be in the shade and out of harm's 
 way, while he went to church too. 
 
 Mr. Rutherford's pew was not like those you see 
 now-a-days. It was very large, and four-square ; 
 with high sides painted white except at the top, 
 where there was a mahogany rail : at least the 
 children thought it was mahogany, but I presume 
 it was only stained wood. There were dark pur- 
 ple covered cushions all round the pew, that looked 
 as if a great many people had sat on them and 
 worn them down from their first freshness ; and 
 the purple was of so very doubtful a shade, that 
 one could hardly tell whether it was red grown 
 dark or black grown light, or whether the cushions 
 had always been purple ; and they looked too old 
 
48 CHERRY A XD DASH, 
 
 to remember anything about it themselves. And 
 the hymnbooks did not seem a bit younger. There 
 was no doubt about their colour — for towards the 
 top of the covers and along the back there were 
 spots of dark brown leather that seemed almost as 
 fresh as it had ever been ; but elsewhere it was 
 worn to a soft light brown, and even the gilt 
 letters on the cover were not very distinct. Yet 
 still the children could read there, " William Ruth- 
 erford ;" and they were never tired of hearing their 
 uncle say that this book was given to their father 
 when he was a little boy ; and that this other, 
 so very worn, which had " Christian Rutherford " 
 written on the fly leaf, had belonged to his mother. 
 There was no need to tell the children to handle 
 them carefully, — they would not have turned down 
 a leaf, or held either book except in both hands, 
 for anything in the world. These books seemed 
 to Chryssa so much older than the minister, 
 that it was quite wonderful. She couldn't al- 
 ways understand him very well, and she used to 
 think sometimes that she would much rather read 
 the hymnbooks. 
 
AND WHERE THEY WENT. 49 
 
 " I mean to do it next time," she told Sybil 
 one day. " I think I could keep awake a 
 great deal easier." 
 
 "0 no you mustn't I" said Sybil seriously. 
 
 "Why mayn't I?" 
 
 " Because it isn't respectful," said Sybil. 
 " Aunt Esther told me once that when people 
 are talking to you it is very disrespectful not 
 to listen to them." 
 
 " But he isn't talking to me," said Chryssa. 
 
 " yes he is — he's talking to everybody in 
 the church." 
 
 So lest she should be disrespectful, Chryssa 
 used to sit up very straight and try to listen; 
 and then she would slip down off the cushion 
 and sit on her mother's little foot-bench ; and 
 when she found herself looking at the little 
 brass nails and maybe counting them, she would 
 get back on the seat again, and sit up straight 
 as before. And by and by she would forget all 
 about the footstool, and the minister, and being 
 respectful, and then she could just feel Mrs. 
 Rutherford taking off her little straw hat and 
 
50 CHERRY A XI) DASH, 
 
 putting her arm round her ; and presently 
 Chryssa was fast asleep, with her head in 
 Aunt Esther's lap, and her little feet stretched 
 out on the old purple cushion. 
 
 It happened one Sunday that while she was 
 asleep it began to rain ; and when at last she 
 sat up and looked out of the church-door that 
 was by the side of the pulpit, there to be sure 
 were raindrops pattering down at a great rate 
 Chryssa was very much surprised, and she called 
 out quite loud, " it rains !" and then when 
 she saw all the little girls in the next pew 
 laughing and putting up their books to hide 
 their faces, she hung down her head, and felt 
 very much ashamed, and afraid she had done 
 something very disrespectful. 
 
 "When they came out of the pew there were 
 always plenty of people to shake hands with, 
 so that the going down the aisle was a rather 
 slow affair. There was one lady in particular 
 whom Chryssa used to notice, because she was 
 always there — in the same bonnet, and shawl, 
 and parasol, and the same eurls inside of her 
 
AND WHERE THEY WENT. 51 
 
 bonnet, which never got shaken down in the 
 least ; and she always came forward just at 
 the same time and place to shake hands with 
 Mrs. Rutherford, — Chryssa thought she must be 
 a very good person. 
 
 The ride home was pleasant, though it was 
 through the hot sun ; but the children had 
 little green parasols, with green fringe and 
 white tops and handles, and of course nobody 
 could mind the sun under them. 
 
 When they reached home, Mrs. Rutherford 
 used to let the children lie down on the bed 
 till dinner-time, if they felt tired, and almost 
 always they took a book to read. Sometimes 
 Sybil picked out an easy story in " The Lady 
 of the Manor," for Chryssa, but generally she 
 chose one of her own little books — " The Mil- 
 lenium," or " Nathan Dickerman," or " Anna 
 Ross." The "Millenium" was a great favourite. 
 Not that Chryssa could understand all the talk 
 about " wool, hair, and feathers," or some 
 other things there related ; but she liked to 
 
52 CHERRY AND DASH, 
 
 read the description of the beautiful feathers 
 of the blue jay, and of the young mountain 
 ash (she thought their own couldn't be the 
 right kind), and of the basket covered with sil- 
 ver paper — the children's walk to the village — 
 and of their good friend, — she did not wonder 
 at all that the children loved him. 
 
 They never went to church in the afternoon — 
 it was so far away that there was not time after 
 dinner. But they had Bible lessons at home, and 
 there were hymns that Chryssa liked to read and 
 to learn, and sometimes she learned verses in the 
 Bible. Once when she asked for something to 
 learn, Mrs. Rutherford told her to choose some 
 verses out of the fifth chapter of Matthew. Chryssa 
 found the place, and then she thought she would 
 be very smart and learn the whole chapter, — so 
 she began with great spirit, but by the time she 
 had learned eight or ten verses she was as tired 
 as a little child need to be. Before tea both the 
 children used to read aloud to their uncle, and 
 then he would explain the chapters to them, and 
 tell them about their father and mother, — how they 
 
AND WHERE THEY WENT. 53 
 
 were willing to leave all and go to Christ ; and 
 had wished but one thing for their little childi'en ; 
 — that they might love and serve him too. 
 
 It happened one Sunday that Mr. Rutherford 
 had a headache all day, and could not hear the 
 reading ; but when Chryssa and Sybil came to bid 
 him good-night he kept hold of their hands and 
 said, 
 
 "Who has read any in the Bible to-day?" 
 
 There was a minute's silence — then Chryssa said 
 in her grave childish way, 
 
 " I have read six chapters ;" and she noticed 
 and long remembered her uncle's peculiar smile, 
 though at the time she did not quite understand it. 
 

 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 
 
 rpO drive to the ferry for Mr. Rutherford or to 
 
 walk a part of the way to meet the carriage 
 
 was a very common expedition, and one much 
 
 liked by the children. There was always a little 
 
THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 55 
 
 hurry and bustle about getting off so as to be 
 sure and be in time, and then the wheels rolled 
 so smoothly and the horses trotted so fast, that 
 even when the dust blew and the sun shone into 
 their eyes nobody minded it. For as Sybil said, 
 they could turn their heads toward the other side 
 where the sun didn't shine, and as for the dust — 
 why they could wash their faces w r hen they got 
 home : they were going to get Uncle Ruth, and 
 that was enough. 
 
 One day as they went pleasantly along Chryssa 
 began. 
 
 " Aunt Esther will you please tell me about my 
 little wagon and about Sybil's going to Cleave- 
 land ?" 
 
 "Don't you recollect it Chryssa? I thought your 
 memory went back as far as that." 
 
 " yes, I remember it very well, but I like to 
 hear you tell the story so much." 
 
 "I think she does tell it 'so much,'" said Sybil. 
 
 " Why Sybil ! I haven't heard it this great 
 while ! — not since last winter I guess. And Aunt 
 Esther always tells it so nicely." 
 
56 THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 
 
 "Well then," said Mrs. Rutherford, "it was 
 fine summer weather" — 
 
 "Like this?" 
 
 "Warmer than this; and Sybil had not been 
 well, and Mrs. Salisbury thought it would do her 
 good to go to Cleaveland." 
 
 " I don't wonder she thought so," said Chryssa, 
 "it's so pleasant at Cleaveland. And Grandmam- 
 ma came for Sybil, didn't she ?" 
 
 " Grandmamma came, in the coach." 
 
 " She spent the day here — I remember that," 
 said Sybil. 
 
 " Yes she spent the day here, and after tea she 
 was going to take you away. But when the coach 
 came to the door and you went down the steps 
 with your bonnet on, Chryssa began to cry and said 
 you should not go — that she would not let you." 
 
 " And what did Uncle Ruth do ?" said Chryssa. 
 
 " Uncle Ruth took you up in his arms and tried 
 to comfort you, and told you that Sybil would be 
 back in a few days." 
 
 " And did I stop crying ?" 
 
 "No, you cried harder than ever, and declared 
 
THE 'WET STRAWBERRIES. 57 
 
 she should not go. And at last he promised 
 that if she went you should have a little wagon 
 to play with instead. And you looked up and 
 said, " What ? Uncle Ruth," and then your head 
 went down again on his shoulder. But you list- 
 ened to what he said and got a little more 
 quiet, though there were very big drops in your 
 eyes as the carriage drove off." 
 
 Chryssa laughed heartily. 
 
 " How very funny \ a she said. " I wouldn't take 
 a wagon for her now though." 
 
 "No, you'd have to let me go without any, I 
 guess," said Sybil. 
 
 " And is that the same little wagon I've got 
 now ?" 
 
 " The very same." 
 
 " What a nice one it is !" said Chryssa. " I 
 love that little wagon." 
 
 And now the salt breezes began to meet and 
 refresh them, for the carriage was approaching 
 Ferrytown ; and presently Michael stopped the 
 horses by the little wharf where the boat came 
 in. She was not there yet, but they could see 
 
 3* 
 
58 THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 
 
 her paddling on towards them, and long before 
 she was near enough to let them see anybody 
 the children were sure they saw Mr. Ruther- 
 ford. The boat came nearer and nearer, and 
 then to be sure they did see him, with a basket 
 in his hand, standing there and smiling at them. 
 Then careless people began to jump ashore before 
 the boat was made fast ; and the boatman fast- 
 ened the chain and began to wind it up on his 
 great wheel ; and people a little more careful than 
 the first jumped over the great bar at the end 
 of the boat. Then the bar was taken away and 
 everybody hurried off to be out of the way of the 
 horses, who were very eager for their turn. And 
 then they came tramping out of the boat, making 
 a great noise and clatter, while Mr. Rutherford's 
 horses were trotting off to Rose Hill, well nigh 
 as fast as their feet could carry them. For a 
 few minutes the sharp sound of their shoes rang 
 out from the paving stones of the main street 
 of the little village, and brought to the doors 
 the few children that were not already there. 
 Meantime the sun was getting lower and lower, 
 
THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 59 
 
 and shone into the carriage with pleasant smiles 
 that troubled nobody's eyes and lit up everybody's 
 ■cheeks, — which indeed were bright enough already. 
 " How nice those radishes look !" said Chryssa 
 as they passed some shops where the long red 
 bunches lay piled together. 
 
 " They look better than they would taste, I sus- 
 pect," said her aunt ; " radishes are not always 
 good at this time of year." 
 " What time of year is it ?" 
 " To-morrow will be the first of June." 
 "Will it?" said Chryssa. "0 then we shall 
 have some strawberries." 
 
 "What makes you think you will have strawber- 
 ries to-morrow ?" said Mr. Rutherford with a smile. 
 " Because, Uncle Ruth, when I asked Aunt 
 Esther when strawberries would be ripe, she said 
 in June, and to-morrow is June, and I mean to 
 look for them very early to-morrow morning." 
 
 "I am not sure that you will find any, how- 
 ever," said Mrs. Rutherford, "for it will be only 
 the first day of June, and the weather has not 
 been very hot." 
 
60 THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 
 
 " Well, I can look," said Chryssa. But behold ! 
 when the morning came there were rain-drops in- 
 stead of strawberries ; and they fell in such abun- 
 dance that the children could not set foot out of 
 doors. It was an extraordinary thing to see clouds, 
 and falling rain, and little streams of water trick- 
 ling down the window panes on the first day of 
 June, Chryssa thought ; and even Sybil watched 
 the rain two or three times as if she supposed it 
 did not like to be looked at and would therefore 
 remain in the clouds if she remained at the window. 
 
 " What do you think about it, Syb ?" said her 
 sister jumping up to follow Sybil and put her lit- 
 tle arms round her. "Won't it clear up?" 
 
 " It will not clear up for your looking, Chryssa," 
 said her aunt. " If you come away from the win- 
 dow and do your lessons, the morning will seem 
 much the shorter." 
 
 "But Aunt Esther I have got strawberry in 
 my lesson to-day ; and if I say it over and over 
 till I can spell it I shall feel very bad." 
 
 " No worse than if you stand there and think 
 it over and over." 
 
THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 61 
 
 " Well ma'am, what shall I read to-day, 
 
 Aunt Esther?" 
 
 " I think I shall find you something about 
 the African deserts, to teach you the value of 
 clouds and rain." 
 
 " Well !" said Chryssa again, — " I don't be- 
 lieve it will make me like it to-day, anyway." 
 
 "Perhaps there are no strawberries ripe," said 
 Sybil. " I mean to believe that ; as the fox 
 thought the grapes were sour." 
 
 " He was a very foolish fox, I think," said 
 Chryssa. " I dare say he didn't think so at 
 all. Aunt Esther, do you want me to be like 
 the fox ? do you want me to think there are 
 no ripe strawberries ?" 
 
 " No, I would rather see you bear patiently 
 the thought that there are ; though I am by 
 no means sure of the fact. But it would be a 
 pity if we could not be contented one day more 
 without strawberries." 
 
 " But perhaps it will rain to-morrow." 
 
 " Perhaps it will," said Mrs. Rutherford look- 
 ing up with a very sunshiny, catching smile. 
 
62 THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 
 
 " Now Aunt Esther, what makes you laugh ?" 
 
 " What makes you ?" 
 
 " Why because you look so funny," said Chryssa. 
 "But w r ouldu't it be bad if it should rain to- 
 morrow ?" 
 
 " Why no, love — it would be good, — everything 
 is good that God orders. And now it would 
 be good if my little Chryssa were to pick up 
 that neglected geography which lies on the floor, 
 and make some use of it." 
 
 Lessons went on accordingly. Then came din- 
 ner ; then Chryssa began to copy a letter, while 
 Mrs. Rutherford sat by and directed. 
 
 " Take care Chryssa — you don't want that last 
 letter." 
 
 " But I thought you said, C, a, k, — " 
 
 " C, a, is pronounced like the letter k ; — I did 
 not mean you to put that down too." 
 
 " Will you please to scratch it out then," said 
 Chryssa. " There's one good thing about making 
 mistakes — it gives me such a nice little rest." 
 And then shrugging up her shoulders she said 
 with a loner breath, 
 
THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 63 
 
 " I'm so tired ; and I haven't run about one 
 bit to-day." 
 
 "That is the very reason you are tired. Come, 
 you shall not write any more : get Sybil to go 
 and ride on the wooden horse with you." 
 
 Sybil was soon found and very ready for play 
 of any kind ; so with one more hopeless look at 
 the weather, the children proceeded upstairs to 
 the garret, — their play room when the sky-roofed 
 one had taken to itself an under roofing of clouds 
 or a wet floor. 
 
 The garret was large and light, with many 
 little oval windows, where the spiders flourished 
 and flies met their fate ; and whose dusty panes 
 gave a very gloomy view of things. On one side 
 of the garret a locked door shut off various 
 stored away articles from busy hands and eyes : 
 on another a ladder led up to a kind of open 
 loft, the landing-place on the way to the sky- 
 light. It was a queer looking dark region up 
 there, with bits of lumber, old chairs, and an 
 immense piece of pitch pine poking themselves 
 out from the obscurity. Nobody ever went up 
 
64 THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 
 
 there, — only once Chryssa could remember seeing 
 her aunt follow Garret up the ladder when the 
 kitchen chimney had amused itself by making a 
 bonfire, and everybody was afraid that the roof 
 would follow the example. 
 
 But down below, in the garret itself, all was 
 bright enough, despite the cobwebbed windows. 
 In the middle hung a fine swing, securely fastened 
 to one of the beams ; near by stood the wooden 
 horse ; a hook and ring were on one of the up- 
 right timbers ; and at one end of the garret dolls 
 and tin dishes marked out a more special play- 
 room. 
 
 To-day the swing claimed first attention ; and 
 as the wide seat would admit them both, Chryssa 
 climbed in and placed herself with her face to- 
 wards the doll end of the garret, while Sybil 
 turned her looks in the opposite direction, and 
 then making great efforts she touched the ground 
 with her toes again and again till the swing be- 
 gan to move, after which a very little push kept 
 it going fast enough. And then they both began 
 to sing. 
 
THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 65 
 
 "Swing! swing! as high as you can! 
 Hold fast of the rope and don't be afraid ; 
 The rafter is wide, 
 And the rope is well tied, 
 And the knots and the seat are carefully made. 
 
 "Play! play! it's pleasant to play, — 
 It's pleasant to laugh, and pleasant to sing. 
 And though it does rain, 
 We will not complain — 
 People ought to be happy without everything." 
 
 "How nice the dolls look," said Chryssa, when 
 they had gone through the air once or twice in 
 silence. 
 
 " Yes, they look pretty well" — said Sybil with a 
 contemplative air. "I don't know either, Chryssa 
 — it strikes me that Miss Jenkins wants bleed- 
 ing, — just look at her arms." 
 
 " But they're always that colour," said Chryssa, 
 — "if you were to bleed her ever so much you 
 couldn't make her arms white." 
 
 "I don't care" — said Sybil, "I'm going to 
 try." 
 
 'And down she jumped, and seized Miss Jenkins, 
 whcse arms were of a very decided pink kid. 
 
 " Now I shall take this big pin for a lancet," 
 
66 THE WET STRAWBERRIES 
 
 said Sybil, " and you can hold that little wooden 
 pail Chryssa instead of a basin." 
 
 " But the little wooden pail's got beads in it," 
 said Chryssa. 
 
 " Turn 'em out — there, into that tin box. 
 Come !" 
 
 A few pointed applications of the pin to the 
 pink kid plainly showed what the inside of Miss 
 Jenkins' arm was made of ; for some grains of 
 bran began to sprinkle the bottom of the little 
 wooden pail, and the doll's arm did not indeed 
 grow less pink but much less round and hard 
 than it had been before. 
 
 " Her arms won't be alike now," said Chryssa. 
 " What'll you do with this one ? it don't look 
 pretty." 
 
 "0 1 don't know" — said Sybil, "never mind. 
 Stuff it." 
 
 How long they might have played and talked 
 in the garret is uncertain, for at this moment it 
 received a most unexpected visiter in the shape of 
 a long sunbeam. During their play the weather 
 had been gradually improving, and at length this 
 
THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 67 
 
 one ray escaped from its cloudy prison and lit 
 up all in its way — the cloud, the wet tree tops, 
 the glittering blades of grass, the dusty garret 
 window and its brown timbers, and the intent lit- 
 tle faces that bent over Miss Jenkins. Down 
 went the doll, regardless of consequences, — down 
 went both children to the parlour. 
 
 "What in the world is the matter?" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Rutherford as Sybil burst in. " Has Chryssa 
 fallen out of the swing?" 
 
 "0 no ma'am, not at all, — but don't you see 
 that sunbeam ?" 
 
 "I see more than one, but what then?" 
 
 " Why the strawberries," said Chryssa, her breath 
 just enough for those three words. 
 
 " Strawberries ! And how are you to get at 
 them? the grass is as wet as possible." 
 
 "But they're not in the grass," said Sybil. 
 
 " But they are in their own vines, which is just 
 as bad. 
 
 And the sunbeam faded again. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Rutherford after a little 
 pause, "I believe I must try what I can do 
 
68 THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 
 
 Get my overshoes Sybil, and you Chryssa a bas- 
 ket" 
 
 "Mayn't I get two?" said Chryssa. "Mayn't 
 I go with you ?" 
 
 But this could not be ; and as the next best 
 thing they . ran up and seated themselves on the 
 stairs by the entry window, to watch their aunt, 
 and consider the question of her bringing home 
 the basket full or half full or empty. Also 
 whether she got a ripe strawberry every time she 
 stooped down, or whether her hand dived in 
 among the wet leaves to no purpose but that of 
 a cold bath. 
 
 "I am sure she got one that time," said 
 Chryssa. 
 
 " No she didn't ; I was watching the basket 
 all the while." 
 
 " But you can't see it." 
 
 "Yes I can — down there on the walk." 
 
 "0 1 see," said Chryssa. "Maybe she put 
 one in her mouth then. I wish I was there ! 
 — that was one — I saw it !" 
 
 " How she holds up her frock !" said Sybil 
 
THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 69 
 
 laughing, " but then she always has such nice 
 white stockings. There, she's coming back, — I 
 guess she's tired poking about in those wet beds. 
 Don't go down yet, Chryssa — wait till she gets 
 under the window and then we can look right 
 into the basket. Oh dear ! why does she stop to 
 look at that laburnum !" 
 
 " It's very pretty I'm sure," said Chryssa. " O 
 let me open the window one minute — I must, — 
 Aunt Esther ! please bring me a May rose ! 
 (they're June roses I think) — Don't get your feet 
 wet ! — Did you get any strawberries ?" 
 
 " No wonder she laughs," said Sybil. " She can't 
 scream out answers to all your questions, child." 
 
 " She nodded her head though, if she did 
 laugh," said Chryssa. "01 can see the straw- 
 berries ! look Sybil, how red the basket is. She's 
 got a great many ! Come, let's go," and away 
 she ran. 
 
 " Ah please hold the basket down Aunt Esther, 
 'cause I can't see. How good you were to go ! 
 I'm so much obliged to you ! What a splendid 
 parcel you've got." 
 
•JO THE WET STRAWBERRIES. 
 
 " I did not bring your rose, Chryssa," said Mrs. 
 Rutherford, — "there was so much wet grass be- 
 tween me and the rosebushes that I thought best 
 not to venture." 
 
 " I'm very glad you didn't dear Aunty, — the 
 strawberries '11 do for one night I should think. 
 But shan't we keep 'em till Uncle Ruth comes 
 home, and then eat 'em all together ?" 
 
 "With all my heart, — I don't think there are 
 enough to hurt us if we do eat them ' all to- 
 gether,'" said her aunt. 
 
 Whether Chryssa thought that the words spoke 
 some doubt of the wholesomeness of strawberries 
 in general, or of these in particular ; certain it 
 is that she looked very soberly into the little 
 basket as she walked off to set it in the pan- 
 try. 
 
^U^- 
 
 •I ' ' 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 HEADACHE AND LOCUST FLOWERS. 
 
 A ND for several days they were very busy an J 
 
 happy ; for the strawberries ripened fast and 
 
 little fingers and baskets made frequent visits to 
 
 the beds. But one inornins: — whether it was that 
 
72 HEADACHE AND LOCUST FLOWERS. 
 
 she had been too much in the hot sun, or had 
 eaten too many strawberries, or both, — Chryssa 
 got up with a headache. 
 
 "You couldn't have gone out much to-day, 
 any way," said Sybil, "for it rained last night, 
 and the grass is all wet." 
 
 " Well 1" said Chryssa with a rather long breath, 
 " but I wish my head didn't ache." 
 
 " I tell you what," said Sybil, " we'll go and 
 sit in the bath house." 
 
 "I don't think I want to go," said Chryssa. 
 
 "And I doubt very much whether you had 
 better," said Mrs. Rutherford. 
 
 "Why Aunt Esther the air's good for her 
 head ; and I've got a great deal to tell you, 
 Chryssa, — you'd better come. I'm going to 
 take my pillow-case there to hem." 
 
 "Well, I'll go," said Chryssa, though rather 
 doubtfully. "Maybe it won't make my head any 
 worse." And putting on her sunbonnet she went 
 slowly down the nagged walk to the bathing- 
 house, — a little square building with a window 
 and a door, and a green shower-bath overhead. 
 
HEADACHE AND LOCUST FLOWERS. 73 
 
 Thither Sybil's quicker steps had already brought 
 her ; and she was sewing very busily when Chryssa 
 came in and placed herself on a bench at her 
 feet. 
 
 " What did you want to tell me, Sybil V she 
 said wearily. 
 
 "What do you think? — come, guess." 
 
 "0 no, indeed I can't, you must tell me." 
 
 "Well then, Mary says that her cousin has got 
 ever so many little kittens, and she says the next 
 time she goes to Canterbury she'll get us two." 
 
 Chryssa did smile in spite of her headache. 
 
 " I'm very glad ! how nice it will be. You'll 
 have one and I'll have the other. And Sybil, 
 what colour will they be ? do you think they'll 
 be both alike ?" 
 
 "I don't know — I told her not to get black 
 ones if she could help it, but I suppose she'll 
 have to take what her cousin gives her." 
 
 " I'm very glad," said Chryssa again as she 
 sat pressing one little hand on each side of her 
 face, " but I must go into the house, my head 
 aches so. I can't stay here." 
 
 4 
 
74 HEADACHE AND LOCUST FLOWERS. 
 
 "I don't care if I go too," said Sybil, "it's 
 hot here, and then you can lie down." 
 
 By the time they reached the parlour Mi- 
 chael had got back from town ; and he came 
 and stood in the parlour door and said very 
 gravely, 
 
 "Miss Errick is dead, ma'am." 
 
 There was a general exclamation, for this 
 acquaintance of theirs had been quite well when 
 they last heard from her. But Michael could 
 tell them no particulars ; he had merely heard 
 the news, and that Mr. Rutherford was to go 
 to the funeral that afternoon. 
 
 It would pass along the turnpike, and when 
 it was first seen from the windows the children 
 went down and stood under the willow-tree where 
 they could watch the procession. 
 
 As they stood there silent and sober, Garret 
 came up ; and after standing by them a few 
 minutes he broke off a willow twig, and sitting 
 down on the dog house he began to twist and 
 weave a ring for Chryssa's middle finger. Then 
 he made one for Sybil, and then both children 
 
HEADACHE AND LOCUST FLOWERS. 75 
 
 begged him to teach them this new kind of 
 goldsmith work. But by the time it was learned 
 Chryssa's head grew worse again, and she grew 
 pale and was fain to go upstairs and lie down 
 on the bed. 
 
 The west windows were open, and as the child 
 lay there looking out and breathing in the sweet 
 air, she thought — in most unphilosophical lan- 
 guage certainly — that nothing out of doors looked 
 as if it had the headache. It was queer too, 
 but the thought rather soothed her own ; it 
 was like some soft cool hand upon her hot fore- 
 head. 
 
 " What smells so sweet, Aunt Esther ?" she 
 said. 
 
 " The locust flowers." 
 
 "0 are they out?" said Chryssa, half raising 
 herself, " and I wanted so much to see them ! 
 What do they look like V 
 
 " Like the laburnum flowers except in colour. 
 Don't you see something very white on that tree 
 at the end of the grove ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Chryssa sinking back, "I think T 
 
76 HEADACHE AND LOCUST FLOWERS. 
 
 do, but the sun is so bright. — Are there many 
 flowers out ?" 
 
 " Not a great many ; the trees are young 
 yet." 
 
 " Won't you tell me about the flowers Aunt 
 Esther ?" 
 
 " What shall I tell you ?" said her aunt 
 smiling. " They are perfectly pure white — almost 
 transparent, — as pure as all christians will be 
 when they come to heaven, — ' without spot or 
 wrinkle or any such thing.' And they are very, 
 very sweet, — sending their perfume to a great 
 distance. And so, Chryssie, when God's children 
 are what they ought to be — when they love 
 him and do his will — all their influence is like 
 the fragrance of those locust flowers. It makes 
 the very name of Christian sweet, — it spreads 
 abroad through the world drawing everybody 
 towards what is 'lovely and of good report,'" 
 
 " Did Uncle Ruth plant all those trees ?" said 
 Chryssa after a little while. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 And then she lay quite still for some time. 
 
HEADACHE AND LOCUST FLOWERS. 77 
 
 There Mr. Rutherford found her when he came 
 home, with her head on the pillow and the warm 
 sunshine falling over her feet. 
 
 "I am very sorry your head aches, my darling," 
 he said bending down to kiss her. 
 
 "Yes TTncle Ruth— it will be better by 
 and by." 
 
 " How pleasant it is to think that in heaven 
 there will be ' no more pain nor sorrow nor cry- 
 ing, nor any more death/" said he. 
 
 Chryssa smiled, and a little flush came over 
 her face. 
 
 " Papa never has headaches now," she said. 
 
 "Shall I read to you Chryssa?" said her uncle 
 a moment after. 
 
 " If ,you please, Uncle Ruth, if it won't tire 
 you. There is ' Idle Hours' on the bed ; I tried 
 to read but it hurt my eyes." 
 
 And Mr. Rutherford read the story of " Little 
 Zoe," and of her being sick, and such a good 
 child. And by and by Chryssa began to think 
 that she was sick — and then that she was a bee 
 humming about that very bunch of locust flow- 
 
 8* 
 
78 HEADACHE AND LOCUST FLOWERS. 
 
 ers on which the sun had shone so brightly ; and 
 then — she opened her eyes and found that she 
 had been asleep, and that the sun was down and 
 the tea-bell ringing. And there on the bed lay 
 the bunch of locust flowers 1 
 
 " Your head must be better," said Mrs. Ruth- 
 erford, smiling at the eagerness with which the 
 child threw herself upon that sweet tribute from 
 the woods. 
 
 " yes," said Chryssa — " how sweet these 
 are ! How could TTncle Ruth get them ? I thought 
 the tree was too high." 
 
 "That bunch was on the end of a bough that 
 hung down within reach. But come, tea is ready." 
 
 And lifting her off the bed, for she looked a 
 little pale yet, Mrs. Rutherford brushed her hair 
 till it looked something like a sunbeam itself, and 
 then they went down to tea. 
 
 "May I eat any strawberries?" said Chryssa as 
 she saw the heaped-up glass dish which stood on 
 the table. 
 
 " Not to-night I think." 
 
 And going round to the corner of the table 
 
HEADACHE AND LOCUST FLOWERS. ii> 
 
 next her aunt, Chryssa stood there with the locust 
 flowers in one hand and a soda biscuit in the 
 other, seasoning the second with the first, and 
 now and then casting a look at the strawberries. 
 
gsgfev. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHAT SHALL I GIVE 
 
 GYBIL'S birthday was at hand ; and some hearts 
 
 were full of expectation, and many heads of 
 
 preparation for its coming. Company was invited, 
 
 and rooms were arranged, and white frocks were 
 
WHAT SHALL I GIVE? 81 
 
 spotlessly done up. Moreover Aunt Esther made 
 some of her spunge cake — such as nobody else 
 could make, — at least so thought Chryssa, who 
 had watched the making and baking and icing 
 with perfect pleasure and content. It was such 
 a big cake too — the whole size of the bakepan, — 
 little pound cakes by the side of it made small 
 show, only the piece of citron in each stuck up 
 its head as much as to say, — "/am good," while 
 everybody must admire the hearts and diamonds 
 and rounds and ovals in which they were baked. 
 Then the loaves of bread looked so brown and 
 smelled so sweet ; and china and glass dishes 
 looked so pleasant and sociable as they came out 
 of the pantry. One would have supposed they 
 had been new gilt for the occasion, and had 
 never looked bright before. 
 
 "Aunt Esther," said Sybil the afternoon before 
 the important Tuesday, "you won't forget my 
 wreath V 
 
 "What wreath?" 
 
 "Why you promised to make me a wreath for 
 
 4* 
 
82 WHAT SHALL I GIVE? 
 
 my birthday !" said Sybil throwing down her book. 
 " Don't you remember ?" 
 
 " Mayn't I have a wreath too ?" said Chryssa. 
 
 "No, of course not," said Sybil. "You can 
 have a wreath on your own birthday — you don't 
 want one on mine, — it would be foolish." 
 
 Chryssa looked a little disappointed. 
 
 "I don't see that, Sybil," said Mrs. Rutherford. 
 " I may as well dress Chryssa with flowers in 
 honour of your birthday, as the vases in the 
 drawing-room. I can easily make the wreaths of 
 different flowers, and put some distinguishing mark 
 upon yours, that_ nobody may doubt who is the 
 queen of the day." 
 
 "I don't care about being a queen if there are 
 too many princesses," said Sybil. " I sha'n't have 
 a wreath if everybody else has." 
 
 " But I'm not going to have one," said Chryssa. 
 " Aunt Esther's going to make only one, for you." 
 
 " Or only two," said her aunt. 
 
 "You needn't make two" said Sybil significantly, 
 and the subject was dropped for a few minutes. 
 Then the discontented little lady began again. 
 
WHAT SHALL I GIVE? S3 
 
 " I think it's very stupid for two people to be 
 wearing wreaths. And why should Chryssa have 
 one ? It isn't her birthday — she's nothing to do 
 with it." 
 
 "0 Sybil!" said Chryssa. "You know I al- 
 ways enjoy it very much." 
 
 " Well then you'll be happy enough without a 
 wreath." 
 
 " That is neither kind nor wise," said Mrs. 
 Rutherford. 
 
 " I don't care," was the reply ; and Sybil's 
 mood ended in a flood of tears. Nor were hers 
 the only ones, for very sympathizing and implor- 
 ing drops were in Chryssa's eyes as well. But 
 they only aggravated Sybil's displeasure. 
 
 "What are you crying for?" she said. "Aunt 
 Esther hasn't been scolding you, — I do wish you 
 wouldn't do everything that I do." 
 
 Mrs. Rutherford looked at her watch. 
 
 " We are going to walk on the turnpike, Sybil," 
 she said, "if you wish to go you must get ready 
 at Once." 
 
 She went upstairs, followed by Chryssa who had 
 
84 WHAT SHALL 1 GIVE? 
 
 just lingered one minute to beg her sister to 
 come — "she couldn't go without her." 
 
 And Sybil did come, but she was so long put- 
 ting on her things that the others were half way 
 to the gate before she made her appearance. 
 She stood in the hall-door for a moment and 
 then called out, 
 
 " Aunt Esther — won't you come back and tie 
 my bonnet ? It's in a knot and it's too loose." 
 
 " I will tie it if you will come here," said her 
 aunt. 
 
 " May I go back and do it ?" said Chryssa. 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Rutherford ; and after stand- 
 ing for a moment as still on the walk as was 
 Sybil in the hall-door, they turned and walked 
 on, though Chryssa almost walked backwards— 
 so constant was her desire to watch the door. 
 But the same dismal-looking little figure stood 
 there yet, as long as she could see it. 
 
 Chryssa walked on with a very heavy heart, 
 and two or three little sighs were heard that 
 were quite out of keeping with the song of the 
 birds in the hedge. She was thinking what a 
 
WHAT SHALL I GIVE? 85 
 
 pleasant walk they might have had ; and now 
 she didn't want to walk at all, but would rather 
 have been at home. 
 
 They had reached the turnpike, and Chryssa's 
 little feet were going very thoughtfully along in 
 the dust, when a loud noise on the other side 
 of the road made her start and squeeze Mrs. 
 Rutherford's hand with all her might. She looked 
 across. A little blue cloud of smoke was just 
 blowing away, and a little boy-neighbour of theirs 
 was walking along and looking at her. In his 
 hand he held a little brass cannon, and while 
 Chryssa looked it was loaded and fired off for 
 the second time. 
 
 Kow the noise was certainly not very tremen- 
 dous, and Mrs. Rutherford assured Chryssa they 
 were in no danger of being shot, but the little 
 cannon did full execution nevertheless. Chryssa 
 put Mrs. Rutherford between her and the mis- 
 chief-maker, and then she walked on in alternate 
 fear and fright ; for the cannon was loaded and 
 fired just as fast as Master Theodore's fingers 
 could manage that operation. 
 
86 WHAT SHALL I GIVE? 
 
 "Theodore," said Mrs. Rutherford at length, 
 "don't you know that you frighten this little 
 girl very much ?" 
 
 Theodore looked at her but made no answer, 
 except that a little smile on his face seemed to 
 say he had suspected as much before, and an- 
 other discharge followed immediately. Chryssa 
 was forced to stand fire, till to her great joy 
 they turned a corner which Master Theodore did 
 not. 
 
 "Aunt Esther," said Chryssa presently, "please 
 don't tell Mrs. Delue." 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 "Because — I don't know," said Chryssa, "but 
 I wish you wouldn't. O see ! Aunt Esther — there 
 comes the carriage, and there's Henry too !" 
 
 Henry was there, in truth, and not long either ; 
 for in some mysteriously quick way he was out 
 of the carriage and had his arms round his 
 mother's neck in all manner of joy and delight. 
 
 " And here's one of the young ones," he said 
 at length taking her up in his arms. " How do 
 you do Chrysocoma ? are you glad to see me ?" 
 
WHAT SHALL I GIVE? 81 
 
 "Yes, I'm very glad," said Chryssa laughing. 
 "But what makes you call me so?" 
 
 " I didn't call you so — I called you Chrysocoma." 
 
 " Well what does that mean ?" said Chryssa 
 laying her face alongside of his, by which means 
 her hat fell off. 
 
 "Why it means 'golden locks,'" said Henry as 
 he jumped into the carriage but still holding her 
 fast. " You look as if you had rolled your head 
 about in the sunshine." , 
 
 Chryssa laughed, and laid her head back 
 against him with an air of great content. 
 
 " Harry, we're going to have two kittens," she 
 said. 
 
 " Two kittens ! why we had two before." 
 
 " But I mean real kittens." 
 
 " For me to play with ?" 
 
 " No, not for you — for me and Sybil — at least 
 for Sybil and me." 
 
 And at the thought of Sybil Chryssa became 
 grave again, and her eyes fell. But only as far 
 as the cushion, for there they saw a thin pack- 
 age which looked suspiciously like a book. 
 
88 WHAT SHALL I GIVE? 
 
 "Take it up and open it, Chryssie," said Mr. 
 Rutherford smiling. " It's for you." 
 
 "For me!" said Chryssa. "0 thank you 
 Uncle Ruth !" and her little fingers were soon 
 busy with the twine. 
 
 " But oh you forgot !" she said stopping short 
 when one knot was untied, "you forgot, Uncle 
 Ruth — it isn't my birthday, it's Sybil's." 
 
 " And can't people ever have presents except 
 on their birthdays ?" said her uncle smiling. 
 
 " Why yes," said Chryssa untieing knot nurnbei* 
 two and knot number three, " but I didn't 
 expect it. But haven't you got something for 
 Sybil ?" 
 
 " We'll see when to-morrow comes." 
 
 And Chryssa untied the last knot with a better 
 satisfied look, which changed into one of great 
 pleasure as she beheld a little square blue Peter 
 Parley's First book of History ; especially as she 
 felt quite sure that the brown paper in her uncle's 
 lap could contain nothing but a present. 
 
 They had a merry tea drinking that night — 
 even Sybil laughed and talked almost as usual -. 
 
WHAT SHALL I GIVE? 89 
 
 though there was now and then a shade upon 
 her face that her uncle knew must come from 
 some unseen cloud. After tea when the others 
 had gone out into the garden, and she yet stood 
 rather moodily by the window, Mr. Rutherford 
 came and sat down by her, and drawing her 
 down upon his lap he kissed her, and asked 
 her if she was glad to be so near eleven years 
 old. 
 
 " I don't know, Uncle Ruth," said Sybil, her 
 eyes filling fast at his kind words, — " I thought 
 I should be." 
 
 "And how comes it that you are not?" said 
 he gently. 
 
 " I don't know," — said Sybil again, and still 
 looking out of the window. " I believe I was 
 cross to-day, and it isn't pleasant to be cross on 
 one's birthday, and I wish it was any other day 
 in the year, I'm sure." 
 
 " But instead of trying to get rid of the day 
 hadn't we better get rid of being cross ?" said 
 her uncle. 
 
 " But I can't," said Sybil. " You see, Uncle 
 
90 WHAT SHALL I GIVE? 
 
 Ruth, Aunt Esther promised to make me a 
 wreath to wear to-morrow ; and then what must 
 Chryssa do but want one too. And Aunt Esther 
 thinks she ought to have it, and I say it's very 
 stupid ; and it makes me cross whenever I think 
 of it." 
 
 " Well let us leave that for a while," said her 
 uncle, " and go back to something you said a 
 minute ago. Why is it particularly disagreeable 
 to be cross on one's birthday ? It is certainly 
 so, but why ?" 
 
 " Because one ought to be particularly good, 
 I suppose," said Sybil. 
 " And why ought one ?" 
 Sybil hesitated, and her uncle spoke again. 
 " There was once a child travelling along a 
 road where there were a great many toll-gates. 
 Her home lay at the end of the road, and all 
 along, from gate to gate, the way was some- 
 times pleasant, and sometimes difficult ; yet had 
 she written directions for her journey, which if 
 followed would 'make the rough places smooth' 
 and give her always ' straight paths for her feet.' 
 
WHAT SHALL I GIVE? 91 
 
 Now these toll-gates were in reality all at the 
 same distance apart, yet they did not seem so. 
 For a while they seemed so far from each other 
 that it was quite an event to reach one, and 
 quite an amusement to pay the toll ; and the 
 little traveller marched up with quick steps and 
 laid down a book, or a plaything, or it might 
 be, pantalettes. And the old man at the gate 
 always gave something in return ; a few trifles 
 at first, with which the child was so pleased 
 that she noticed not one little light straw which 
 the old man bound upon her shoulders ; and 
 each one added another straw. 
 
 " Several of these gates were passed, and yet 
 the child had hardly looked back ; but one day 
 it came into her heart to stop and think ; and 
 sitting down just before the next gate, she 
 looked over all the road she had come. It 
 looked very small — and she had thought it so 
 long. 
 
 "'That is the first gate I remember,' she said 
 to herself ; ' and when I came to the next one 
 it rained, and the man gave me two straws to 
 
92 WHAT SHALL I GIVE? 
 
 carry, and not much else. And between that 
 and the next one I was so very sick, and it 
 tired me to go on. But God let me live and 
 not die, and he has taken care of me every 
 bit of the way.' 
 
 " She turned then and looked forward over the 
 road she had to go. But she could not see 
 much of it — she could not even count the gates, 
 though she thought she saw a great many. 
 And a wish came over her that God would 
 guide her past them as he had hitherto done ; 
 and then she began to think within herself 
 what she should lay down at the next gate, 
 for it was very near. Some childish habit or 
 dress or plaything did not seem enough — she 
 was thinking less of herself now, for she thought 
 of these words, — ' What shall I render unto the 
 Lord for all his benefits towards me V And 
 remembering the disciples who left all to follow 
 Christ, she prayed that at this next gate she 
 might lay down every evil word and work, and 
 give herself wholly unto the Lord, — to be his 
 dear child, his willing servant, forever." 
 
WHAT SHALL I GIVE? 93 
 
 The last rays of the sun were falling upon 
 Sybil's head as her uncle spoke these last words, 
 but she heeded them not. Her head was upon 
 his breast, and she was sobbing out tears of sor- 
 row and shame and better purposes. The cross- 
 ness was all gone now, and only a little sore 
 pain about her heart told that it had ever been. 
 
 " Shall we lay down all this ?" whispered her 
 uncle ; " and take up and bear the name of 
 Christ with earnest prayer and endeavour to be 
 changed into his likeness?" 
 
 " We, Uncle Ruth ?" she said looking up in 
 some surprise. 
 
 " We, love. You at your gate and I at 
 mine." 
 
 " But what have you to lay down, Uncle 
 Ruth?" said Sybil. "Do people always lay down 
 something ?" 
 
 "Always — through their whole life. I have 
 laid down many a tiling at these gates, Sybil ; 
 a dear friend sometimes, and sometimes I trust 
 a little of my own self will. Or if not — remem- 
 ber this — if nothing evil is laid down, then do 
 
94 WHAT SHALL I GIVE? 
 
 we lose something good, — if we are no nearer 
 to God than we were last year, then are we 
 further off; and we have not merely lost the 
 year, but we have fallen back in our way to 
 heaven." 
 
 " And what does the man at the gate give 
 you, "Uncle Ruth ?" said Sybil laying her hand 
 caressingly upon his face. 
 
 " Different things — " said he smiling. " Two 
 little daughters to love, and better hopes for 
 them and of them. When he can find nothing 
 else he throws down a little snow on my head." 
 
 " Uncle Ruth ! he shall not !" and Sybil's 
 arms were clasped tight round her uncle's neck. 
 
 " And do you like to look forward to the 
 other gates ?" she said presently. 
 
 " I like to look over them. I am not careful 
 about their number now, dear Sybil, for the 
 heavenly country is better than this." 
 
 Sybil looked up and kissed him with very 
 tremulous lips. 
 
 " I will try," she whispered, and then she 
 broke from him and ran upstairs. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 sybil's birthday. 
 
 rTlHE sun rose amid some rather doubtful-look- 
 ing gray clouds, but the wind soon swept 
 them away — even while Janet and her broom 
 went through the parlours for the last time. 
 
96 sybil's birthday. 
 
 There was not a particle of dust nor of cloud to 
 be seen. And when the sun got higher and 
 poured in its bright light, everything looked 
 clean, — as clean as Sybil had prayed last night 
 that her heart might be, and as she hoped it 
 had really become. Poor child ! she did not 
 know how soon the world's dust would find its 
 way in again, nor indeed how much there was 
 yet remaining. Only "he that is dead is freed 
 from sin." 
 
 " Come children ! get up !" clamoured Henry at 
 their door. " The sun's up, though it isn't his 
 birthday." 
 
 " And I shan't get up, if it is mine," said the 
 half awake Sybil. 
 
 " I say Sybil !" pursued Henry, " why didn't you 
 come to meet us last night? I forgot to ask you." 
 
 " That's nobody's business," said Sybil. " I 
 didn't choose to come." 
 
 " Don't let off all your fireworks this morn- 
 ing," said Henry, " I advise you. Keep 'em for 
 to-night. They don't make much show in such 
 sunshine." 
 
sybil's birthday. 9? 
 
 Sybil started up in desperation, but now open- 
 ing her eyes for the first time the light they met 
 silenced her. What sunshine it was ! as if it 
 came from the world beyond all those gates she 
 must pass through. They were very sorrowful 
 eyes that she hid again in the pillow. 
 
 Then came another knock at the door. 
 
 " Where's Chrysocoma ? Is she asleep too." 
 
 "0 no she's not asleep," said Chryssa in a 
 just audible whisper. 
 
 " Let her come forth then." 
 
 "You'd better go Chryssie," said Sybil, "only 
 don't pick the flowers for our wreaths till I 
 come." 
 
 " Are we going to have wreaths !" exclaimed 
 Chryssa. " At least I mean are you going to ?" 
 
 "Yes, and so are you." 
 
 Chryssa bestowed two or three very thankful 
 kisses upon the back of Sybil's neck and went off. 
 
 " Why don't Sybil come ?" was Henry's first 
 greeting. 
 
 " I don't know," said Chryssa, — " I guess she's 
 tired. And she isn't dressed." 
 
SYBIL'S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 " That's a reason. But as to being tired, peo- 
 ple are always tired when they ought to get up." 
 
 " But I guess she is tired," said Chryssa — 
 "she looks so. And I don't think she liked 
 what you said about fireworks." 
 
 " I don't believe you did," said Henry laugh- 
 ing. " Ah Chrysocoma ! I couldn't think what 
 made you look so grave at me this morning. 
 But I won't tease her any more, and I'll beg 
 her pardon for that — if she ever gets up so as 
 to give me a chance." 
 
 After breakfast the first thing was to pick 
 flowers, which the children did in no measured 
 quantity ; and Chryssa having filled her basket 
 filled her little apron as well — chiefly with pop- 
 pies, for which the basket had found no room. 
 
 "My dear Chryssa !" said Mrs. Rutherford, 
 — " what am I to do with so many poppies ? If. I 
 were to put them all in the dish there would be 
 place for nothing else." 
 
 " But the wreaths," said Chryssa. 
 "But I don't believe poppy wreaths would be 
 pretty." 
 
sybil's birthday. 99 
 
 " Annt Esther, if you'd just been out on the 
 gravel-walk, you'd have seen how pretty they 
 looked." 
 
 " In the gravel-walk, yes — but on your head V 
 
 "If you have a poppy wreath Chryssa," said 
 Henry, "you'll have to sit in the corner all day 
 and nod." 
 
 Chryssa looked very puzzled till her eyes got 
 down to her apron again, — then they brightened 
 up. 
 
 " Just look at this little red one Aunt Esther 
 — it's so black in the middle, — and here's another 
 that's purple. I don't know I'm sure what Harry 
 means by nodding, but I think they're beautiful." 
 
 " You don't know what I mean by nodding !" 
 said Henry — "look here then and I'll shew you," 
 — which he did till Chryssa nearly dropped the 
 whole apron full of poppies for laughing. 
 
 "Well if I put enough poppies in the vases 
 you'll let me make the wreaths as I like ?" said 
 Mrs. Rutherford when Henry's head was per- 
 suaded to remain quiet. 
 
 " yes — unless" said Chryssa hesitating, " un- 
 
100 sybil's birthday. 
 
 less you would put just this one poppy bud in 
 mine. See Aunt Esther, it's white, and the 
 leaves aren't open yet." 
 
 That one was promised, and then Mrs. Ruther- 
 ford began to arrange dishes and vases and flower 
 tables ; now and then laying aside some particu- 
 larly pretty bud or leaf for the wreaths. When 
 - the making of these came, it was hard to tell 
 whether the children were most pleased or curious. 
 It was pretty work. The flowers were so fresh 
 and smelled so sweet, and Mrs. Rutherford's hand 
 was so skilful. It was wonderful to see her fasten 
 down the stems so neatly, and then to see a leaf 
 start up as if by magic to cover the joining ; 
 while a white jessamine poked out its head here 
 and a rosebud there, just as if they had sense, and 
 knew where they were wanted. And satisfaction 
 was complete when the hair on both little heads 
 being nicely brushed, the wreaths were put on 
 and fitted exactly. Chryssa thought Sybil's looked 
 "splendid," and took for granted that her own 
 could not be far behind : the white poppy bud at 
 least, must look well. 
 
sybil's birthday. 101 
 
 It took some time to get used to such unusual 
 adornments, — there seemed to be danger of their 
 falling off, for as Chryssa remarked, " what could 
 keep them on ?" and the first going down stairs 
 was a very stately affair. But both heads and 
 wreaths were happily forgottea after a while. 
 
 Friends began to come about twelve o'clock, 
 and many of them brought Sybil some little pres- 
 ent — a painted pincushion or a basket. One or 
 two were so thoughtful as to bring Chryssa some 
 trifle also, which not being expected was particu- 
 larly welcome. As for Sybil, she cared less about 
 them, having found her plate at breakfast loaded 
 with presents that she liked better ; the brown 
 paper especially having contained a most beauti- 
 ful book. But she received the last arrivals gra- 
 ciously enough, and returned to her book with 
 new pleasure. 
 
 Many of the guests were grown up people — as 
 much out of Chryssa's sphere as she was out of 
 theirs ; so after speaking to them all, and watch- 
 ing with some interest the multitude of papers 
 which came out of one young girl's hair ; she 
 
102 sybil's birthday. 
 
 took possession of the only little child of 
 the party (who was indeed somewhat smaller 
 than herself) and marched her out upon the 
 lawn to see the flowers. Chryssa found it hard 
 work. Little Emily knew none of her old friends 
 in the borders, nor seemed to wish to make their 
 acquaintance. She would not say whether she 
 thought the pink or the blue bachelor's buttons 
 were the prettiest ; she walked right over the 
 poppies in the walk, pulled up the johnny-jump- 
 ers, and was perfectly insensible to the charms of 
 "love in a puzzle." 
 
 Chryssa was in despair. 
 
 " Shall we go and see Garret mow ?" she said, 
 directing little Emily's eyes and ears towards 
 Garret and his scythe. The immediate answer 
 was the deliberate march of Miss Emily's red 
 shoes over the border, taking moss pink and what 
 other trifles there were in her way. But when 
 she came a little nearer to Garret she stopped 
 short, perfectly sure that the scythe was to be 
 employed to destroy her peace and well-being ■ 
 and when Chryssa by the more roundabout road 
 
sybil's birthday. 103 
 
 had reached her, she was crying in great dis- 
 may. All comforting assurances were of no effect, 
 and Chryssa marched her off into the house again. 
 Then she herself came out to have a run among 
 the cut grass, and to watch the flying grass- 
 hoppers with their pretty yellow wings, and the 
 birds that came all the way from the hedge to 
 pick up every one that was small enough. 
 
 Then Chryssa noticed the drooping white flower 
 heads that lay in the swath. 
 
 "What makes you cut down the daisies, Gar- 
 ret ?" she said. " And here are some buttercups 
 too. O Garret ! that's too bad." 
 
 "Why Miss Chryssa they aint flowers — they're 
 nothing in life but weeds." 
 
 " What makes weeds, I wonder," said Chryssa ; 
 " why aren't they just as good as any flowers, 
 Garret ?" 
 
 This was more than Garret could tell, so he 
 shifted the question. 
 
 "You see Miss Chryssa, they grow among the 
 grass so — I couldn't let 'em stand if I wanted to. 
 If I was to mow round every bunch of daisies," 
 
104 sybil's birthday. 
 
 he added, shaking his head, "I guess they'd be 
 gone to seed by the time I got through, and 
 you'd be grown up, Miss Chryssa." 
 
 "No I shouldn't," said Chryssa gravely. "Un- 
 cle Ruth says you mow very fast, Garret; and it 
 would take me a great while to grow up." 
 
 " Then we'll have a beautiful young lady here 1" 
 said Garret. 
 
 "0 I don't know," said Chryssa who was 
 braiding three blades of grass with great intent- 
 ness. " Everybody don't grow up pretty. I 
 know what I'll do ! I'll make a leaf carpet " 
 And away she ran to the bladder-senna tree. 
 
 It had large smooth leaves, and with a quan- 
 tity of these in her frock and a tumbler of water 
 by her side, Chryssa was soon seated on the 
 front steps making a carpet : for by wetting the 
 leaves she could make them stick together quite 
 securely. 
 
 Then came tea, when all the cakes small and 
 great made their appearance ; and after tea the 
 company went away. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CHICKENS AND EGGS. 
 
 " A UNT Esther," said Sybil one day after din- 
 ner, " may we go down to the garden and 
 look for strawberries V 
 
 " The strawberries are all gone, child, long ago." 
 
106 CHICKENS AN'D EGGS. 
 
 " O no ma'am, I don't mean the Lafaettes, nor 
 the — the — what do you call them ? — the Chilis ; 
 but the little Alpine strawberries that grow by 
 Chryssa's garden. You know they bear all sum- 
 mer." 
 
 "O yes," said Chryssa jumping down from her 
 chair, "and then I can see if any of my damask 
 roses are out. May we, Aunt Esther?" 
 
 "If you won't stay too long. The sun is very 
 hot." 
 
 "We won't stay too long," replied the young 
 ones as they ran off. 
 
 The garden lay to the north of the house ; and 
 on either side the gate as you entered were the 
 two little plots of ground which the children 
 called their own. They were not very full of 
 flowers as yet, though from time to time Mr. 
 Rutherford brought home some roots or plants 
 that he had found in the market, and placed 
 them here. The last arrival of this kind had 
 been a bunch of golden buttons for Chryssa and 
 a fine tuberose for Sybil, and these were flour- 
 ishing nicely. But Chryssa's chief delight was 
 
 5* 
 
CHICKENS AND EGGS. 107 
 
 ber damask rose bush, while Sybil took no small 
 pride in a little double-flowering almond. Early 
 in the season this had been covered with delicate 
 blossoms, as if a light fall of pink snow had 
 rested there ; and Chryssa's patience was sorely 
 tried, for her rose tree at the same time pre- 
 sented nothing but green leaves. 
 
 " I don't believe my rose bush can have such 
 pretty flowers," she said — " if it ever has any at 
 all !" 
 
 But as the days passed on, the almond flowers 
 faded, while on the other side of the walk some 
 little rosebuds made their appearance, — at first 
 green like the leaves, then by degrees striped with 
 dark red — as if it were the dress of a little fairy 
 who was trying very hard to get out ; for there 
 was every day more and more red and less and 
 less green. To-day there was a rose open — not to 
 its full extent, but in a beautiful half blown state 
 of sweetness. 
 
 " it's lovely !" Chryssa exclaimed in ecstasy. 
 " Did you ever see anything so beautiful ?" and 
 then carefully taking hold of the stem she bent it 
 
108 CHICKENS AND EGGS. 
 
 down until nose as well as eyes could have the 
 benefit of it. 
 
 " Oh me, how sweet !" 
 
 "I don't believe it's half so sweet as this," 
 said Sybil, who had betaken herself to the Al- 
 pine bed, and was now holding up one of the 
 berries. 
 
 " Are there any strawberries ?" said Chryssa 
 suddenly letting go the damask rose, which flew 
 back with such energy that the bunch of bee- 
 larkspur thought itself called upon, and returned 
 the visit the next time the wind set that way. 
 
 " Are there any strawberries ?" repeated Chryssa, 
 when she had watched how the two neighbours 
 knocked their heads together. 
 
 " Any ! — I think there are ! Just look at ail 
 these red ones," said Sybil turning up the leaves ; 
 "and there are some white ones." 
 
 The strawberries were very tempting and sweet, 
 and of such a nice size, as the children remarked 
 — " all ready cut up into mouthfuls." It was very 
 pleasant too this eating first a red and then a 
 white one, and all the talk about which was best. 
 
CHICKENS AND EGGS. 109 
 
 Then suddenly Sybil jumped up and uttered a 
 loud scream. 
 
 " Why Syb ! what in the world's the matter ?" 
 exclaimed Chryssa when she had echoed the c 
 scream. " Did you see a snake ?" 
 
 "No indeed I didn't, but just when I was 
 picking a big white strawberry a great ugly toad 
 jumped out of the leaves close by my hand ; and 
 it did startle me so ! I wonder if he thought I 
 had no business to eat strawberries. Ugh ! — it 
 makes the cold chills run all over me." 
 
 " I wish they'd run all over me," said Chryssa, 
 " for I'm very hot. But toads don't poison anybody." 
 
 " I don't care," said Sybil, — " they're very ugly 
 and disagreeable. Come, let's go in. I don't 
 want strawberries if I can't have 'em without 
 toads." 
 
 " How you did scream !" said Chryssa laughing. 
 
 " Well, so did you." 
 
 " well, because I didn't know what was the 
 matter." 
 
 " That was particularly wise ! to scream for 
 you didn't know what." 
 
110 CHICKENS AND EGGS. 
 
 " Ah, but I screamed because you did, von 
 know. I thought there must be something the 
 matter. I shouldn't scream for the toad, I prom- 
 ise you. I don't care that for him ;" said she, 
 snapping her fingers. 
 
 "I do wonder what's the use of toads," said 
 Sybil, — "or if they're only made to frighten peo- 
 ple." 
 
 "I guess not," said Chryssa, "they don't fright- 
 en me, any way ; but I'll ask Uncle Ruth what 
 they're good for, if I don't forget it." 
 
 When the beauty of roses and the ugliness of 
 toads had been much talked about to Mrs. Ruth 
 erford, Chryssa held up the bunch of berries she 
 had brought, and said, 
 
 " Now Aunt Esther, you shall have these 
 strawberries upon one condition." 
 
 " Not a hard one I trust," said her aunt smiling 
 "for certainly your berries look very tempting." 
 
 " Don't they though !" said Chryssa. '-■ And 
 just smell them, — now doesn't your nose confirm 
 the report of your eyes, as Sybil said to Uncle 
 Ruth the other day?" 
 
CHICK E NS AND EGGS. Ill 
 
 "Perfectly," said Mrs. Rutherford. "And now 
 for conditions." 
 
 "Now for conditions! — I want very much to 
 know why you call these Alpine strawberries, and 
 where they grow, and why the toads hide among 
 them, — and why my roses are damask roses, — I 
 thought you said damask was some kind of stuff 
 like the cover of that big chair." 
 
 "For one condition you'd better say four," re- 
 marked Sybil. 
 
 " No, the condition is that I answer all these 
 difficult questions," said Mrs. Rutherford. "Well 
 Chryssie, the strawberries are called Alpine be- 
 cause it is said they grow wild on the Alps." 
 
 "The Alps," — repeated Chryssa, — "those are 
 the very big, very high mountains in Switzerland, 
 that always have snow on them. I had 'em once 
 for my geography question. But what makes you 
 say, it is said?" 
 
 " Because I have never been on the Alps my- 
 self, and therefore know about them only from 
 other people and books." 
 
 " I don't believe they do grow there then," 
 
112 CHICKENS AND EGGS. 
 
 said Chryssa. "How can strawberries live in the 
 snow ?" 
 
 "They can live where the snow melts off 
 in the summer, — and it is only the tops of 
 the mountains that are white all the year 
 round." 
 
 " I wish I could see them," said Chryssa ; " it 
 must be very funny to see strawberries and snow 
 on the same mountain. O Sybil ! we haven't 
 looked for eggs to-day !" 
 
 " I can't go now," said Sybil, " I must read 
 my Rollin." 
 
 " Yes, I guess you want to read Rollin very 
 much, by the way you've been looking up and 
 listening to me." 
 
 " Suppose you give her nothing more to listen 
 to, then," said Mrs. Rutherford. " What if you 
 were to try how much you can get interested in 
 the boundaries of Alabama ?" 
 
 "0 Aunt Esther!" said Chryssa laughing, — 
 " I know what you mean 1 Well — where's the 
 atlas. But I don't think I shall get interested 
 at all, because you see it isn't interesting. I 
 
CHICKEN'S AXD EGGS. 113 
 
 guess I know 'em already though. It's bounded 
 on the north by — " 
 
 " Don't study aloud," said Mrs. Rutherford. — 
 "you will disturb Sybil." 
 
 "But you haven't told me about the toads, 
 nor the damask roses," said Chryssa suddenly 
 coming back from the boundaries of Alabama. 
 
 " We'll talk of them another time. I must be 
 busy now, and so must you." 
 
 And Chryssa did try to be busy and quiet, but 
 it was hard work — much harder than the bound- 
 ary question. And though she sat on the floor 
 with the atlas in her lap, she occasionally broke 
 the silence by such ejaculations as " High diddle 
 diddle !"— or a line of "The little kits about the 
 house," — adding in an under tone, " I wish we 
 had little kits, I'm sure." 
 
 " Miss Chryssa," said Janet coming in while 
 the western boundary was in demand, "Garret 
 has found a hen with ten little chickens, and he 
 says wouldn't you like to come and put 'em in 
 the coop, Miss." 
 
 " Ten little chickens !" screamed Chryssa spring- 
 
114 CHICKENS AND EGGS. 
 
 ing to her feet and dropping the atlas, — "where 
 are they ? where did he get them ? O yes, I'd 
 like to very much." 
 
 " Garret's below with the chickens in a basket, 
 Miss." 
 
 Chryssa looked down at the atlas and then up 
 at her aunt ; but Mrs. Rutherford never raised 
 her eyes. 
 
 " I'll come in two minutes, Janet," she said 
 drawing a long breath and sitting down on the 
 floor again ; " tell Garret to wait for me. I'll 
 come just as soon as I can — I've only got to 
 find the capital of Alabama." 
 
 In two minutes it was found and stowed away 
 in Chryssa's head ; the atlas was put back in 
 the drawer ; and running down the steps Chryssa 
 skipped along the walk to the locust grove, where 
 was the old hen in a coop. 
 
 " What a pretty old hen !" said Chryssa look- 
 ing in. " But what makes her scream and poke 
 her head through the coop so ?" 
 
 Garret who had been sitting under the trees 
 with the basket of chickens, now came and looked 
 
CHICKENS AND EGGS. 115 
 
 at the old hen just as if he hadn't been watch- 
 ing her for the last ten minutes, and said, 
 
 " I guess she wants her chickens Miss." 
 
 " where are they ?" said Chryssa. " I'll give 
 'em to her this minute." 
 
 But when she had cautiously lifted the cover 
 of the basket and peeped in, the chickens seemed 
 quite too pretty to part with. 
 
 "Why can't I keep 'em in here Garret, and 
 then I could play with them so nicely. Do you 
 think the old hen would care? I don't believe 
 she loves them half as well as I do." 
 
 " She loves them very much, Miss," said Gar- 
 ret shaking his head. " She just gave them all 
 she could find to eat, and she flew at me like 
 everything when I tried to catch 'em." 
 
 " But she might have some other chickens," 
 said Chryssa with a fresh peep into the basket. 
 " I dare say we could find some ugly ones that 
 would do very well for her." 
 
 " She wouldn't have them, Miss," said Garret, 
 — " most hens will kill any strange chickens that 
 come near them." 
 
116 CHICKENS AXD EGGS. 
 
 " Well, you shall have these old hen," said 
 Chryssa. " what dear little soft things ! and 
 so fat. They're a great deal prettier than if they 
 had feathers. Let's see, — I'll put down this 
 brown one first — no, the black one ; I like that 
 least. There's only one black, and one brown, 
 and two grey like the old hen ; and how 
 many — one, two, — don't run about so, I can't 
 count you chickies, — one, two, three, four, five, 
 six, white ones. There, now I hope you are 
 satisfied old hen." 
 
 The old hen did seem to be satisfied, for after 
 a few turns up and down the coop, and a great 
 deal of scratching and clucking, she established 
 herself in one corner and spread out her wings 
 to accommodate the chickens. They, crowding 
 and struggling to get under her, now pushing 
 one another out, and now in ; at length made 
 their mother cover a larger space than Chryssa 
 would have thought possible. She stood in wrapt 
 attention. Suddenly the hen got up and walked 
 to the other corner, with the sleepy chickens 
 trooping after her ; but when she had scratched 
 
CHICKEN'S AND EGGS. Ill 
 
 about for a little there, she returned and estab- 
 lished herself once more in her old place. Soon 
 all the chicks were disposed of but one little 
 grey one, which could by no means get under 
 cover ; but wisely resolving that his feet should 
 be warm if his head was not, he jumped upon 
 the hen's back. And to Chryssa's great delight, 
 a white chicken who was perhaps in rather strait 
 quarters, thrust his head out through the feathers 
 of the old hen's wing. 
 
 " I never saw such black eyes as he's got !" 
 thought Chryssa, while her own grew very bright 
 and big. And then they were all quiet, except 
 an occasional sleepy chirp of remonstrance against 
 the encroachments of a brother chick ; or a soft 
 murmuring " peep !" of pleasure. Even the old 
 hen shut her eyes and seemed to doze, opening 
 them now and then however, to make sure that 
 Chryssa wasn't going to shoot her. 
 
 How long Chryssa stood there with folded 
 hands, gazing into the coop, is uncertain. Gar- 
 ret had long since gone to his work, and the sun 
 was climbing higher and higher into the tree-tops, 
 
118 CHICKENS AND EGGS. 
 
 and the chickens had dreamed a perfect variety of 
 things ; yet she stood there. One foot standing 
 quietly by the side of the other foot, and the 
 wind blowing her little white apron to and fro ; 
 the empty basket by her side, and those two lit- 
 tle clasped hands never stirred from each other. 
 A chipping-bird as he flew home to his nest, 
 came near lighting upon her for a little post, she 
 stood so still. 
 
 And how long she would have remained there 
 is also very doubtful if Sybil and the egg basket 
 had not come running down the road. 
 
 ° there you are, Chryssie," said Sybil, 
 " and the chickens too, I suppose. Are they 
 pretty ?" 
 
 " they're beautiful," said Chryssa without 
 stirring her position. 
 
 It was agreed however that Sybil should see 
 the brood another time, "it would be such a pity 
 to wake them up ;" and when Chryssa had eager- 
 ly told all she had seen and heard they pro- 
 ceeded to the barn. 
 
 " Where's Garret, I wonder ?" said Sybil, — 
 
CHICKENS AND EGGS. 119 
 
 "you know we want him to open the barn door 
 and go up the ladder for us." 
 
 Garret appeared at her call, and opened the 
 door and looked in the hay loft, but could find 
 no eggs ; then he returned to his work. 
 
 " It's queer there are none up there," said 
 Sybil — " there ought to be some : and there are 
 only two in the nest on the floor. I'll tell you 
 what Chryssa, it looks as if there might be a 
 nest up in that corner — 'way up in the hay be- 
 hind that old blue door that looks as if it had 
 been thrown there on purpose. Do you see ?" 
 
 "Yes, I see," said Chryssa standing on tiptoe, 
 "at least I see the door. But you can't climb 
 up there — shall I call Garret ?" 
 
 " No, no ; I want to go myself. I tell you I 
 can climb better than he can, this minute. Stop, 
 I'll take out these eggs for fear I should break 
 them. NW you stand still, — don't step on the 
 pitchfork nor tumble out of the door." 
 
 Chryssa laughed and stood still, and her sister 
 scrambled up on the hay-mow. 
 
 " Chryssa !" she exclaimed as she put her 
 
120 CHICKENS AND KGG5. 
 
 head behind the blue door, "here's a nest, and 
 ever so many eggs in it I" 
 
 " How many ?" said Chryssa, wishing very much 
 that she was big enough to climb hay-mows. 
 
 "I don't know yet. There's eight I believe, 
 but you know I must leave one for a nest-egg 
 so there are only seven for us." 
 
 "Well that's a good many," said Chryssa fold- 
 ing her hands in a new position and looking very 
 much pleased. 
 
 "Yes indeed; and they're such big ones too. 
 There must be more than one hen that has a nest 
 up here, for some of the eggs are brown and some 
 are white." 
 
 " I guess they think it's a nice place," said 
 Chryssa. "But now Syb take care of yourself 
 coming down — the hay is slippery. Now let me 
 see — what beauties 1 how nice and white they 
 look — all but that one, and that's as brown as 
 Aunt Esther said my neck would be — as brown 
 as an Indian. I thought you said some of 'em 
 were brown — there's only one." ' 
 
 "Well, one's some," said Sybil. 
 
CHICKENS AND EGGS. 121 
 
 "Is it ?" said Chryssa. " Well mayn't I look 
 in that other new nest that we made in the cow- 
 house yesterday? — you took all the eggs out of 
 this one." 
 
 " I don't believe there's anything there," said 
 Sybil as they crossed the barn-yard, "but you 
 may look. Hens don't always like the nests 
 other people make for them." 
 
 "So hens are people, are they?" said Chryssa. 
 "Now we'll see — let me open the door, I can 
 — O yes, here are two new eggs right in the 
 nest ! I dare say Speckle laid 'em — she's such a 
 nice little hen. I wish I could take 'em both." 
 
 "Well take them then," said Sybil, "and I'll 
 put in this nest-egg out of the manger, — the hens 
 don't lay there any more. Now let's make haste, 
 Chryssa, it's time for Uncle Ruth to be home, 
 and you know he will bring the fan to-night, so I 
 want to meet him first." 
 
 " What sort of a fan will he get ?" said Chryssa. 
 
 " I don't know ; but I asked him not to get 
 one with either a pink or a green ribbon, so that 
 it needn't be like ours." 
 
122 CHICKENS AND EGGS. 
 
 "Why I should like it to have a ribbon like 
 mine," said Chryssa ; " you are so fanny — you 
 never want anything if anybody has got some- 
 thing like it." 
 
 "There's the gig coming along the lane," said 
 Sybil — "take this basket Chryssa — I must run." 
 
 " But Sybil !" called out little Chryssa into 
 whose hand the basket was thrust, "I want to 
 run too — and I can't — with the basket." 
 
 Pat, pat, went Sybil's feet along the walk, and 
 presently Chryssa began to run too, — then she 
 heard the eggs go rattle, rattle, in the basket, in 
 a very breakable sort of way. She stopped and 
 looked in — they were not broken yet, but they 
 might be. Then she set the basket down under 
 a locust tree — no, that wouldn't do, — somebody 
 might knock it over, or steal it. She took tip 
 the basket again, her heart swelling and her lips 
 trembling with the disappointment, and walked on 
 towards the house as fast as she could ; but with 
 very faint hopes of getting there in time to see 
 the fan presented — much less unrolled. Suddenly 
 Sybil came flying down the walk towards her 
 
CHICKENS AND EGGS. 123 
 
 again, and catching the basket in one hand and 
 Chryssa's hand in the other, she began to run for 
 the house ; but carrying the basket so steadily 
 that the eggs did not say a word. Neither did 
 Chryssa — for she was too much out of breath ; 
 and after all they got to the gate as soon as the 
 gig did, and Mr. Rutherford jumped out and 
 walked with them. 
 
 " Uncle Ruth," said Sybil after the first greet- 
 ing, "have you got the fan?" 
 
 "What does that look like?" said he with a 
 smile, and handing her a flat and very fan-like 
 little parcel. 
 
 " that must be it," said Chryssa ; and as 
 Mr. Rutherford passed into the house the chil- 
 dren stood still on the gravel walk and opened 
 the paper. There was the fan — of dark grey 
 feathers, and with a purple ribbon fastened to the 
 handle. It gave great satisfaction. 
 
 " It's prettier than either of ours," said Chryssa, 
 " and the ribbon's longer. I'm very glad ! But oh 
 Sybil, how good you were to come back for me — 
 because I never should have got here if you hadn't." 
 
124 CHICKENS AND EGGS. 
 
 " JSTo I wasn't good," said Sybil ; " and I 
 didn't go back because I wanted to, — so you 
 needn't thank me for it. If I bad been good 
 I shouldn't have left you in the first place." 
 
 " I think you were very good," said Chryssa 
 contentedly. So they went in and gave Mrs. 
 Rutherford her birthday present, and she was 
 quite as much surprised and pleased as they had 
 expected. 
 
 " Uncle Ruth," said Chryssa when she had 
 taken hold of his hand and was walking up and 
 down the drawing-room with him after tea ; " did 
 you get the ribbon because you liked the fan, 
 or the fan because you liked the ribbon ?" 
 
 " I think the ribbon had the most to do with 
 my choice. I had picked out a fan with a pink 
 ribbon, but then I remembered Sybil's prohibition." 
 
 "0 I wish you could have got that," said 
 Chryssa, "and then it would have been like mine. 
 Is this fan as pretty as that one ?" 
 
 " Quite as pretty." 
 
 "What nice things ribbons are," said Chryssa 
 after a pause. 
 
CHICKENS AND EGGS. 125 
 
 " Do you know what they are made of ?" 
 
 " Why no, Uncle Ruth, — they look a little like 
 Aunt Esther's silk frocks only they're softer." 
 
 "They are made of silk threads, as those 
 frocks are ; and the silk threads are made by a 
 worm." 
 
 "A worm, Uncle Ruth? Garret showed me 
 some worms the other day when he was digging, 
 but they didn't look as if they could make silk 
 or anything else. They were very ugly indeed." 
 
 " Those were earth-worms ; the silk-worms are 
 short and thick, and of a whitish colour." 
 
 " And can they make ribbons ?" said Chryssa 
 wonderingly. 
 
 "They make the silk threads from which rib- 
 bons and all other silk things are woven. Some 
 day I will take you to Mr. Grandin's and show 
 you his silk-worms, and then you will understand 
 more about it." 
 
 " Oh thank you Uncle Ruth 1" — and so it was 
 settled. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE SILK-WORMS AND THE BUTTERFLY DOOR. 
 
 " Q YBIL !" cried Chryssa the minute she opened 
 her eyes next morning, " did we find any 
 eggs in that nest yesterday?" 
 
 "What nest ?" said Sybil very sleepily. 
 
THE SILK- WORMS, ETC. 127 
 
 " Why that new nest we made in the cow- 
 house, — don't you know 1" 
 
 "Why yes child, of course we did. How can 
 you forget so I" 
 
 "I didn't forget, only I didn't know but I 
 dreamt it." 
 
 "Well you didn't dream it, — at least I don't 
 know but you dreamt it, but it's true ; — so I 
 hope you are satisfied." 
 
 " We found two eggs, didn't we ? I was think- 
 ing of two nice white eggs." 
 
 " And if you'd been thinking of twenty you 
 needn't have waked me up. Do go off and leave 
 me in peace and quiet." 
 
 " Ah but you oughtn't to be quiet," said 
 Chryssa. " You'd better not go to sleep again, 
 I can tell you, or you'll be as late as you were 
 yesterday. Come ! — get up 1" 
 
 " Won't you go and feed your chickens Chryssa ?" 
 
 "0 my chickens ! — poor little things — I dare 
 say they're hungry. But I'm not ready yet, you 
 see, so they must wait." 
 
 And then came an eager and determined splash' 
 
128 THE SILK -WORMS, ETC. 
 
 ing in the basin, which would have told any per- 
 son with one ear open that Chryssa was wash- 
 ing herself; but both Sybil's ears were more 
 than half shut, therefore she took up a different 
 notion. 
 
 "It doesn't rain, does it?" she inquired a lit- 
 tle more sleepily than before. 
 
 " Why no !" said Chryssa laughing merrily as 
 she rubbed her face with the towel. " If you'd 
 only open your eyes you'd see that it doesn't. I 
 should think they'd get open in spite of you — 
 the sun's right on them. There ! — I do believe 
 I heard one of the chickens cry this minute. 
 Sybil, how long do you s'pose it'll be before 
 they get feathers?" 
 
 " How many feathers ?" said Sybil, who be- 
 tween Chryssa and the sun was waking up "in 
 spite of herself." "They'll have some in a week, 
 I dare say." 
 
 " Well I mean a great many feathers — wings 
 and tail and all, just as the old hen has. How 
 long will it be before they'll be as big as the 
 old hen ?" 
 
THE SILK-WORMS, ETC. 129 
 
 "0 I don't know" — said Sybil turning over. 
 " How can I tell ? By the time the old hen's 
 superannuated, I guess." 
 
 Chryssa stood with an intensely grave face, 
 trying to imagine what superannuated could 
 mean ; but Sybil's now resolutely closed eyes 
 gave no encouragement to further questions, and 
 catching up her sunbonnet she ran down to the 
 kitchen. At least she was running down, when 
 Mrs. Rutherford called her. 
 
 " Where are you going, Chryssa ?" 
 
 " To get some indian-meal, Aunt Esther, to 
 feed my chickens." 
 
 " It's too wet for you now dear ; stay here 
 till after breakfast." 
 
 " But Aunt Esther," said Chryssa appearing 
 at the parlour door, " my chickens must be very 
 hungry." 
 
 " I don't believe they're awake yet," said Mrs. 
 Rutherford. " What do you suppose would be- 
 come of such little chickens if the old hen should 
 let them go out in the wet grass so early in 
 the morning ? No, no, you mav be sure she takes 
 
 6* 
 
130 
 
 THE SILK-WORMS, ETC. 
 
 as good care of her chickens as I do of miae ; 
 and see, here comes breakfast." 
 
 " I don't think I'm a chicken at all," said 
 Chryssa laughing. " Then you don't really think 
 they're awake ?" 
 
 " I don't suppose a single one of them has got 
 his eyes open. But where's Sybil ? isn't she up ?" 
 
 "She hasn't got her eyes open, either, I guess," 
 said Chryssa ; and jumping upstairs she not only 
 awoke her sister with the news that the coffee-pot 
 was on the table, but also slightly aroused her 
 sister's displeasure by sundry comparisons drawn 
 from the supposed fact that the chickens were yet 
 slumbering. Whence Chryssa came to the wise 
 conclusion that it is never best to say much to 
 people until they are broad awake. 
 
 "I shall come home early this afternoon," said 
 Mr. Rutherford as they sat at breakfast, "and we 
 will drive out to Grandin's. I promised Chryssa 
 to show her his silk-worms." 
 
 "What does he keep them for, Uncle Ruth?" 
 
 "More for amusement than anything else, I 
 believe." 
 
THE SILK-WORMS, ETC. 131 
 
 " let us have some too," said Chryssa ; " it 
 would be so nice to have the silk threads and 
 make ribbons." 
 
 Mr. Rutherford smiled. 
 
 "It takes more than silk threads to make rib- 
 bons," he said ; " and maybe when you have seen 
 the worms you will care less about having them. 
 I think your chickens are much prettier pets." 
 
 Thus reminded of her new charge, Chryssa got 
 a saucer and spoon and went off to the meal- 
 tub ; and when she had carefully mixed as much 
 as chickens with full-grown appetites could re- 
 quire, she ran down to the locust grove, and soon 
 found to her disappointment that the old hen 
 was able to eat much more than all the chickens 
 put together. However they chirped over their 
 tiny breakfast with a satisfied air that was very 
 pleasant as far as it went, and Chryssa com- 
 forted herself with the hope that they would have 
 larger appetites in time. 
 
 The afternoon was very clear and pleasant. 
 Mr. Rutherford came home early as he had 
 u'omised, and they set out in high spirits for 
 
132 THE SILK- WORMS, ETC. 
 
 Mr. Grandin's, — such high spirits indeed, that 
 Chryssa not taking good heed to her little para- 
 sol, a jolt of the carriage flung it into the road, 
 and in a moment the wheel had passed over it. 
 Well ! — it couldn't be helped ; but she thought 
 that did not mend the matter much, and her 
 complacency was not fairly restored till she 
 caught sight of the rustic summer-houses, and 
 smelled or fancied she smelled the flowers in Mr. 
 Grandin's garden. 
 
 They were very cordially received, and the gar- 
 den was very beautiful. Flowers — flowers — every- 
 where, and curious trees and shrubs, and little 
 white rabbits hiding their red eyes behind prison 
 bars, where Chryssa pitied them very much. 
 And as they walked about Miss Grandin picked 
 all sorts of beautiful and sweet flowers for them, 
 till all Chryssa's fingers were too few to hold her 
 share. 
 
 Then they went into the house to see the silk- 
 worms. 
 
 Chryssa did not like them near so well as she 
 expected. They were large whitish-coloured things, 
 
THE SILK-WORMS, ETC. 133 
 
 with too many feet for beauty, Chryssa thought, 
 walking about and eating leaves, and looking 
 very comfortable and very ugly. What could 
 they have to do with pink ribbons ? And just 
 as she was thinking how well it was they were 
 shut up, Miss Grandin opened a little door in the 
 frame, and taking out a particularly large worm, 
 laid it lovingly against her cheek. Chryssa 
 turned away in. great disgust and looked at a 
 cage of white mice, which seemed quite beautiful 
 by comparison ; though in themselves she thought 
 them very ugly and ill-used. 
 
 " Why Chryssa [" said Mr. Rutherford when 
 he came in from the garden, " I thought you 
 wanted to see the silk-worms ?" 
 
 "I have been looking at them Uncle Ruth, but 
 I didn't want to get 'em on me." 
 
 Miss Grandin laughed, and put the worm back 
 and shut the door ; and then very unwillingly 
 Chryssa came up to the frame again. But Mr. 
 Rutherford wanted her to hear all they were 
 talking and telling about the worms, — how that 
 in the first thirty days after one is hatched it 
 
134 THE SILK -WORMS, ETC. 
 
 eats sixty thousand times its own weight of 
 leaves, and increases forty times in length and 
 nine thousand five hundred times in weight. How 
 it takes twelve pounds of cocoons to make one 
 pound of reeled silk ; and this one pound makes 
 fourteen yards of excellent Gros de Naples. 
 
 "What is reeled silk?" said Sybil. 
 
 "The cocoons are thrown into boiling water to 
 destroy the moth, and then they are stirred about 
 with a bunch of twigs till the twigs catch the 
 ends of the silk threads, — then the threads are 
 wound off upon a reel." 
 
 The cocoons were very pretty, Chryssa thought, 
 but she entirely disapproved of the boiling water. 
 
 "Why must they kill the moth, Uncle Ruth?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "Because it would eat its way out through 
 the cocoon, and so injure the silk." 
 
 " TIow many threads would the moth cut?" 
 said Chryssa, with an endeavour to get at the 
 probable loss of letting it live. 
 
 "Properly speaking there is but one thread on 
 each cocoon, but as it is wound round and round, 
 
THE SILK-WORMS, ETC. 135 
 
 the moth in eating its way out would cut this 
 thread many times." 
 
 The balance between loss of life and of silk was 
 easy to strike, in Chryssa's mind. Why couldn't 
 they piece the silk ? 
 
 "But that stuff looks so fuzzy," said Sybil, — 
 "not a bit like threads of silk. 
 
 "That is only the outer covering; the fine silk 
 thread is underneath." 
 
 "I shouldn't think there'd be much room for 
 it," said Sybil. "A very short thread would 
 make that little cocoon." 
 
 "The cocoon is small, I grant you," said 
 Mr. Rutherford, " but so is the silk very fine ; 
 and the thread which makes that little cocoon is 
 about three hundred yards long, spun double. It 
 is very light too, and ten thousand cocoons do 
 not generally yield five pounds of silk." 
 
 And here Mrs. Grandin (thinking perhaps that 
 Chryssa must be tired and bewildered with the 
 long threads of silk) opened a closet door, the 
 inner surface of which was entirely covered with 
 butterflies, and beetles, and dragon flies, and ich- 
 
136 THE SILK-WORMS, ETC. 
 
 neumon flies, and chafers, of eve^y size and colour 
 and mixture of colour. What could make them 
 stay there ? Chryssa wondered, but she did not 
 like to ask. So she stood still and looked at the 
 butterflies, and they stood still too, — there did 
 not a wing flutter. They were not even tempted 
 by Chryssa's bunch of flowers, though she looked 
 down to see if none of them had transferred 
 themselves. 
 
 Then Mrs. Grandin pointed to a large purple 
 emperor on the door, and began a long story of 
 how she had been walking in the garden to look 
 at a new Amaryllis ; how the butterfly had 
 alighted on her shawl ; how the gardener had 
 cried out and she had chid him ; and then how 
 she had skilfully covered her prize with a bell- 
 glass. Chryssa felt more and more puzzled. 
 Would Mrs. Grandin really catch a live butterfly 
 and stick him up there ? and how could she ? 
 and were all the occupants of the door dead or 
 alive at that present moment ? She couldn't tell, 
 but somehow the door didn't look so pretty to 
 her now ; and she was just turning away to the 
 
THE SILK-WO RMS, ETC. 131 
 
 white mice again, when Mrs. Rutherford took 
 leave and they came away. No sooner were they 
 all in the carriage than Chryssa began". 
 
 " Uncle Ruth, what did make those butterflies 
 stay on that door ?" 
 
 "They were fastened there." 
 
 "Fastened there?" 
 
 " Yes ; if you had looked a little closer you 
 would have seen a small pin thrust through each." 
 
 " But I don't understand," said Chryssa knit- 
 ting her brows with excess of perplexity ; "I 
 thought she said that big butterfly got on her 
 shawl in the garden?" 
 
 " So she did ; and it was there she caught 
 him." 
 
 "But if he could fly about he wasn't dead." 
 
 " Certainly not ; I suppose none of the butter- 
 flies were dead till they were pinned up to the 
 door. People seldom find dead butterflies in such 
 good preservation." 
 
 " Mrs. Grandin must be a nice woman !" said 
 Sybil coolly. 
 
 "Some people are very fond of collecting in- 
 
138 THE SILK-WORMS, ETC. 
 
 sects," said Mr. Rutherford with a slight smile 
 at Chryssa's speechless face ; " and as they would 
 not stay in the house alive, these people take 
 various ways of killing them. Sometimes they 
 are killed instantly by being pierced with a pin 
 dipped in a very strong and poisonous liquid, — 
 sometimes they are merely fastened up to a 
 door and left to die at their leisure. This I be- 
 lieve was the fate of those you saw to-day." 
 
 " But it's dreadfully cruel ! don't you think so 
 Uncle Ruth?" 
 
 " Dreadfully cruel indeed ; but unfortunately 
 there are plenty of people in the world who are 
 willing to do cruel things for their own amuse- 
 ment." 
 
 " I don't want ever to go there again," said 
 Chryssa who really looked pale at the idea of 
 such an unscrupulous slaughter of butterflies. 
 
 " Not even to get such flowers ?" said Mr. 
 Rutherford. " Look at those roses and gerani- 
 ums in your hand, Chryssie." 
 
 "Yes Uncle Ruth — they're very sweet, but I 
 don't like people that do so." 
 
THE SILK-WORMS, ETC. 139 
 
 " I don't like the things they do," said her 
 uncle, " but you must not judge the people too 
 harshly. All are not equally tender-hearted by 
 nature, nor by education. I do not suppose Mrs. 
 Grandin had the least idea that there was any- 
 thing wrong or cruel in what we dislike so much." 
 
 "I don't see why she should take the trouble 
 to be cruel for butterflies," said Sybil. "I'm 
 sure I wouldn't." 
 
 "01 would !" said Chryssa. "If it wasn't cruel 
 I'd get some too. They're such beautiful things !" 
 
 She sat for some time with her head a little 
 on one side, her hands with the beautiful bunch 
 of flowers hanging listlessly down in her lap, 
 and her eyes fixed on the road ; but not appar- 
 ently thinking of it or its shadows, to which the 
 setting sun gave more and more length and dis- 
 tinctness every moment. 
 
 " Chryssa !" said Mrs. Rutherford. " Are you 
 asleep ?" 
 
 " no Aunt Esther, I was thinking — don't 
 butterflies ever die ? I mean unless somebody kills 
 them ?" 
 
140 THE SILK-WOKMS, ETC. 
 
 " Yes indeed ; they are by no means immortal, 
 nor even very long lived." 
 
 "Then if I found any dead ones I might keep 
 them, mightn't I ?" 
 
 " To be snre. I don't think you would ever 
 get so very fond of them as to catch live ones 
 too." 
 
 "But what will you do with them Chryssie?" 
 said Mr. Rutherford. " I doubt whether Aunt 
 Esther would care to have her closet doors orna- 
 mented in such a manner." 
 
 "01 wouldn't put them on the doors, Uncle 
 Ruth/' said Chryssa smiling. "I'll put 'em in 
 a box — if I get any." 
 
 "You haven't got a box," said Sybil. 
 
 "Yes I have, I've got a little tin box that 
 had soda powders in it — no, that's too small." 
 
 " Well when that is full you shall have an- 
 other," said Mrs. Rutherford. 
 
 " But Aunt Esther, I'm afraid that's too small 
 for anything." 
 
 "Don't you think it would hold a beetle, — or 
 a lady-bug?" 
 
THE SILK-WORMS, ETC. 141 
 
 "O yes," said Chryssa laughing, "but I wasn't 
 thinking of beetles ; I was thinking of that big 
 purple butterfly." 
 
 " I fear you will not find such a one very soon, 
 dear Chryssie ; they live in the tops of the high 
 trees, and seldom come down within reach of peo- 
 ple's fingers." 
 
 " But if one died he might have to come 
 down," said Chryssa. 
 
 "Well dear," said her aunt smiling, "if one 
 does, you shall have a box for it." 
 
 " You'll never want to sing ' I'd be a butter- 
 fly' again, Chryssa," said Sybil. 
 
 "0 yes I shall," said Chryssa, "because you 
 
 i know if I was a butterfly I wouldn't ever let 
 
 Mrs. Grandin catch me !" And she began to sing 
 
 I'd be a butterfly, — flitting about 
 From roses to lilies, now in and now out. • 
 
 I'd flutter all day in the sun's pleasant ray, 
 And with butterfly brothers I'd merrily play. 
 
 And I'd be a honey-bee,— busy and bright 
 
 From sunrise at morning till dew-fall at night. 
 
 Sweet honey I'd store, till the season was o'er, 
 
 And the comb and the hive were too full to hold more. 
 
142 THE SILK-WORMS, ETC 
 
 O I'd be the violet, modest and sweet! 
 
 And almost unseen in my shady retreat; 
 
 Tet there can be no doubt I should soon be found out, 
 
 For my perfume would spread itself all round about. 
 
 And I*d be the lily that lives in the vale, 
 
 With tall leaves to shelter my flowers so pale. 
 
 I'd hang my head there with my sisters so fair, 
 
 And our breath should be borne on the soft summer air. 
 
 But now sir you must not believe that we would 
 
 Be a butterfly, flower, or bee if we could. 
 
 no ! we agree that we rather had be 
 
 Just such little children as those you now see. 
 
 <; Yes," said Mr. Rutherford, " and just such 
 little children as those wishes would make you. 
 As light-hearted as the butterflies, as busy as 
 bees — and seeking honey from the best flowers, — 
 as modest and humble as the violet. And how 
 can you be like the lily ?" 
 
 The children did not speak, and then Mrs. 
 Rutherford looked up and said softly, 
 
 "That ye keep yourselves unspotted from the 
 world." 
 
1 
 
 ' 
 
 iyli . i 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CATS AND CRACKERS. 
 
 rpHE children were eating a lunch of bread and 
 milk. Seated by a little table behind the par- 
 lour door they took alternate spoonfuls out of 
 the same bowl. 
 
144 CATS AND CRACKERS. 
 
 "Do you like the crust or the soft best?" said 
 Sybil. 
 
 "I like the crust best." 
 
 "So do I. It's. a pity we both like it best." 
 
 "Well," said Chryssa, "you take a mouthful 
 of crust and then I'll take a mouthful of crust 
 That'll be fair." 
 
 So they eat away at " the soft," and then 
 Sybil would say, 
 
 " Now let's take some crust ;" and a few bits 
 of crust were taken accordingly. 
 
 "Why did we have lunch to-day?" said Chryssa. 
 
 " Because Uncle Ruth's coming home to dinner, 
 so it'll be late," said Sybil. "And Aunt Esther 
 says we may go and see Betsy Donovan." 
 
 " that'll be very nice," said Chryssa. " I 
 like to go there, don't you?" 
 
 " Yes, pretty well," said Sybil. " Now Chryssa 
 you took crust twice running." 
 
 " Did I ?" said Chryssa ; " well I didn't mean 
 to. I was thinking about Betsy Donovan, so I 
 s'pose I took it accidentally." 
 
 "Never mind, I don't care," said Sybil. "You 
 
CATS AND CRACKERS. 145 
 
 may take two pieces more if you've a mind. But 
 Chryssa if Betsy offers us any candy to-day, let's 
 not take it." 
 
 " Why ?" said Chryssa — " I like that candy 
 very much, — Betsy gave me some twice, and I 
 eat it all up. It tasted just like cloves. I never 
 saw such candy anywhere else : why shouldn't we 
 take it?" 
 
 "Because," said Sybil, "Betsy keeps it to sell, 
 and it doesn't seem right for us to eat it. I 
 know it's very good, but she might get a penny 
 for every stick she gives us ; and she is poor." 
 
 "Well- if that's all," said Chryssa, "I'll give 
 her a penny for it too. I would have asked 
 Aunt Esther for one before if you'd told me." 
 
 "But Betsy wouldn't let us pay for it," said 
 Sybil, — "I'm sure she wouldn't. She's always 
 very glad to give it to us, but then I don't think 
 we ought to take it." 
 
 "Well I won't then," said Chryssa, "but it's 
 a great pity." ■ . . '• .' .. \ 
 
 The children got ready, ' and set out with 
 
 Janet to walk to Betsy Donovan's little house. 
 7 
 
146 CATS AND CRACKERS. 
 
 It was quite a long walk from Mr. Rutherford's, 
 but ou a pretty winding road, so shady with trees 
 and sweet with flowers, that most people would 
 have called it too short. 
 
 The house was very small, and as brown as 
 summer suns and winter storms could make it ; 
 for paint it had none except upon the roof and 
 the front door, and they were both red. The 
 front window displayed a variety of temptations 
 to the passer-by to stop and spend his money, if 
 he had any ; and if he had not, to stand outside 
 and wish that he had. And as Betsy's house 
 stood by the sea-shore, and a great many fisher 
 boys went that way, the grass under the window 
 was almost as well trodden and worn as the 
 boards of her little floor. For in the window 
 stood candies upon every little ledge, leaning 
 some one way and some the other ; while spools 
 of cotton, penny trumpets, whistles, cigars, and 
 scalloped gingerbread, were arranged in what is 
 commonly called "tempting confusion" upon the 
 window and the window-sill. 
 
 There was only a little strip of grass by the 
 
CATS AND CRACKERS. 14T 
 
 house, and then there came shore weeds, and the 
 mere shore itself, stretching down in sandy bar- 
 renness to where the wet feet of the little waves 
 came frolicking over the pebbles. Queer looking 
 shore birds with long necks and legs stalked 
 about over the sand, on which an old fish boat 
 or two lay drawn up high and dry out of reach 
 of the tide. Everything was very still this after- 
 noon, and even a windmill that stood off in the 
 distance was as motionless as if it had no arms, 
 or didn't know how to use them. Andrew Don- 
 ovan was down on the shore mending his fish 
 net, and Betsy sat sewing on the step of the door. 
 Of course she was very glad to see the chil- 
 dren, and provided them at once with the very 
 best and smallest chairs that she had. And the 
 next thing was to take down two sticks of that 
 very yellow-striped' candy from the window, and 
 give one to Sybil and one to Chryssa. And 
 they could no more have helped eating it than 
 they could have helped wanting to, — Betsy put 
 it into their hands and would hear no word of 
 refusal. She would also have made them eat 
 
148 CATS A XL) CRACKERS. 
 
 some of the scalloped gingerbread, but it was 
 most resolutely declined. As neither of the chil- 
 dren was partial to gingerbread, this was the 
 easier done. 
 
 And so they sat there for a while with great 
 satisfaction, — Janet and Betsy talking, and Sybil 
 and Chryssa perched up on their chairs eating 
 the yellow-striped candy. 
 
 Then came two little ragged boys for some- 
 thing out of the window, — a scalloped ginger- 
 bread, which they immediately divided, and two 
 bunches of queer little red rolls of something. 
 Chryssa watched these commodities delivered and 
 the pennies received, with great interest. 
 
 " What sort of candy was that, Betsy ?" she 
 inquired as Mrs. Donovan came back to her seat. 
 
 " It wasn't candy at all, love, — it was just 
 fire-crackers." 
 
 " Fire-crackers !" said Chryssa, " what's fire- 
 crackers ? Sybil ! what's that ?" 
 
 A queer little pop ! outside the door called 
 forth this last exclamation ; and then there was 
 another pop, and another, and then a whole sue- 
 
CATS AND CBACKL'RS. 149 
 
 cession of them, coming so fast that Chryssa was 
 almost too frightened to ask questions. 
 
 " What is it ? it's very disagreeable — I'm afraid 
 of it." 
 
 "It's only the fire-crackers," said Betsy. "They 
 won't hurt you — they don't hurt anybody." 
 
 " But I don't like them at all," said Chryssa 
 drawing close to her sister, who sat up quite 
 straight and courageously though not liking the 
 crackers herself. " I wish they'd stop — what makes 
 those boys do so ?" 
 
 "That's for the fourth of July," said Betsy,— 
 " they bought 'em on purpose to fire 'em off." 
 
 "But it isn't the fourth now," said Sybil. 
 
 " No Miss, but the boys isn't particular about 
 the time, so they have the crackers." 
 
 " But what shall we do ?" said Chryssa, " we 
 can't get home, — why must they do that for the 
 fourth of July — I wish they wouldn't." 
 
 "They've gone off a bit now," said Janet look- 
 ing out between the sticks of candy and scalloped 
 gingerbread. " I guess we'll get away before 
 they come back again." 
 
150 CATS AXD CRACKERS". 
 
 And saying goodbye in great haste to Betsy, 
 the two children ran off from the honse so fast 
 that Janet could not come up with them until 
 they stopped at what they thought a safe distance. 
 
 "Let's gather some flowers to take home," said 
 Sybil when they were in the wood road again. 
 "See, here are wild roses." 
 
 "And here are buttercups, and some great big 
 white flowers." 
 
 "No, they're only great big bunches of white 
 flowers," said Sybil. 
 
 "O my!" said Janet, "don't pick that, Miss 
 Chryssa 1 Elder's nothing but a weed — the farm- 
 er's boys all cut 'em down. And with all the 
 pinks and poppies you've got at home too." 
 
 " I don't care," said Chryssa, — " I like 'em 
 very much, they're so sweet. And the pinks 
 we've got now aren't sweet a bit, and the pop- 
 pies never are. I think poppies would be too 
 pretty if they were sweet. This isn't sweet 
 either but it's pretty." 
 
 A green vine with bunches of purple flowers 
 and green and red berries was twining in and 
 
CATS AND CRACKERS. 151 
 
 out the fence, and clambering over a branch of 
 the elder. 
 
 "Don't pick that," said Sybil, "it's poison. 
 Maria Delue says it's nightshade." 
 
 "Here are nice flowers," said Chryssa run- 
 ning up to a tall blackberry bush that had put 
 forth its white stars somewhat late in the season. 
 
 " Yes and nice thorns too," said Sybil. " You'd 
 better come away. Don't you remember the fox 
 that tried to get through the bramble hedge?" 
 
 "I wish I had all those stories," said Chryssa 
 quitting the blackberry. " I like them so much — 
 all about the foxes and the cocks and the iron 
 pots." 
 
 " Well I'll tell you something," said Sybil. " I 
 knew you wanted that book, and so I asked 
 Uncle Ruth to get it for you." 
 
 " how good you are !" said Chryssa. " Do 
 you think he'll get it to-day ?" 
 
 " Can't tell — maybe, and maybe not. Some 
 days he's too busy to think of anything. Come 
 let's sit down here and rest, and I'll tell you a 
 story." 
 
152 CATS ANT) CRACKERS. 
 
 " do !" said Chryssa running to seat herself 
 on a stone, — "that will be so nice." 
 
 "Well then, once upon a time" — 
 
 "But what makes you always say once upon 
 a time there was?" said Chryssa, "Why don't 
 you say there is V 
 
 " because I don't want you to suppose it's 
 a true story," said Sybil. "'There is,' means 
 something true you know, and ' once upon a 
 time' stories may be true or not. But there is 
 a great deal of truth in this one, only it's not 
 all true. There was once a little worm crawling 
 about on an oak leaf And there were half a 
 dozen other little worms that were his brothers 
 and sisters. And they used to go up and down 
 the leaf, and when they had eaten the most of 
 it up they went to another. Then every night 
 they all slept in a great soft web where the dew 
 could not get at them. 
 
 " One day somebody told this first little 
 worm" — 
 
 " Who told him ?" said Chryssa. 
 
 "01 don't know — " said Sybil. " Somebody — 
 
CATS AND CRACKERS. 153 
 
 told hiin that he must spin a little house for him- 
 self, and shut himself up, and stay there for ever 
 so long." 
 
 " Was he to die ?" asked Chryssa. 
 
 u No, he shouldn't die, but he must stay there 
 for t. long time, and then he should come out 
 again. But he never could be a little worm any 
 more." 
 
 "What should he be then?" said Chryssa. 
 
 "Why he should be a butterfly, with golden 
 wings and bright eyes ; and he should fly about 
 all the day long, and call at the flower houses and 
 eat honey." 
 
 " Well that was a great deal better," said 
 Chryssa. "I don't like little worms — much." 
 
 "He didn't think so," said Sybil. "He thought 
 he would rather be a worm, and he was very 
 sorry to think he never should crawl about on 
 oak leaves any more." 
 
 " And did he spin his house, and live there, 
 and come out a butterfly ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Sybil, "he had to." 
 
 " Well," said Chryssa — " when he was a butter- 
 
154 CATS AND CRACKERS. 
 
 fly did he find any of the other little worms that 
 had turned into butterflies too ?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Sybil. "Yes, I suppose 
 so. Of course he did." 
 
 "Why Sybil," said Chryssa who had been 
 thinking very gravely for two minutes, "you've 
 made this all up after what Aunt Esther was 
 talking about yesterday ! I heard her say that 
 people do not die when we say they die, any 
 more than a worm dies when it turns into a chry- 
 salis." 
 
 " I saw a worm and a butterfly both on a 
 rose," said Sybil, " and it made me think of it. 
 I was thinking how papa and mamma are watch- 
 ing for us, and wondering that we don't long to 
 come to heaven." 
 
 By this time they were rested and walked on. 
 It so happened that Mr. Rutherford did remem- 
 ber Chryssa's book that very day, and the first 
 thing he gave her, after a kiss, when she got 
 home, was a nice little dark brown volume, full 
 of pictures, and with "JEsop's Fables" in gilt let- 
 ters on the back. 
 
CATS AND CRACKERS. 155 
 
 "I hardly know whether it is a very nice copy, 
 dear," he said; "but I found it not easy to get 
 one at all." 
 
 Chryssa's thanks were few, for upon opening the 
 book such a delightful mixture of " foxes and 
 cocks and iron pots" caught her eye, that there 
 was nothing for it but to sit down at once and 
 begin to read. 
 
 But she was not half through the foxes before 
 Mrs. Rutherford said it was too dark to read. 
 
 " Come down to the garden with me," she said, 
 "and see how your flowers grow." 
 
 "In one minute Aunt Esther," said Chryssa. 
 
 But by the time she had finished the last 
 speech the bramble made to the fox, thinking to 
 herself how funny it would have been if the black- 
 berry had talked so to her, Mrs. Rutherford was 
 half way down the green slope. Chryssa went 
 hop skip and jump to overtake her, and in her 
 haste stumbled over and was near demolishing a 
 little toad — which however got off with no very 
 serious injury. 
 
 " See what comes of running so fast," said Mrs. 
 
156 CATS AN'D CRACKERS. 
 
 Rutherford; "you have almost killed that poor 
 little toad." 
 
 A word thoughtlessly spoken ! 
 
 Poor Chryssa ! the idea of running over or 
 hurting anything was bad enough, but an implied 
 possibility that it might be avoided made mat- 
 ters still worse. She bestowed several very ten- 
 der looks upon the toad, and would have given 
 him any assistance in her power ; but whenever 
 she even thought of taking him from the grass to 
 the gravel walk, the toad hopped off in the most 
 unthankful manner. So Chryssa at last followed 
 her aunt, carefully enough this time, and wonder- 
 ing within herself if she was never to run fast 
 any more, or if toads were to be always in the 
 way, — or as it has been more poetically expressed, 
 " if the world was not wide enough for her and 
 the toads too !" 
 
 She looked at the flowers with a very sober 
 face, and though she answered all Mrs. Ruther- 
 ford's remarks about them her thoughts were up 
 on the slope with the unfortunate and ungrateful 
 little toad. Chryssa had really felt quite hurt by 
 
CATS AND CRACKERS. 157 
 
 his turning the cold shoulder to her in such a 
 manner. 
 
 From these sorrowful thoughts she was at last 
 happily aroused by the sight of some one coming 
 up from the gate, — it was Mary, just returned 
 from Canterbury. 
 
 It was plain that she had something wrapped 
 up in her apron, and in a moment both children 
 were on the run. Sybil dashed through the grass, 
 but Chryssa remembering the toads went round 
 by the gravel-walk ; and by the time Mary had 
 reached the willow-tree, both little breathless run- 
 ners were there too. She set down her basket, 
 and unrolling her apron she shewed two little kit- 
 tens ; fast asleep, and pretty and soft enough al 
 most to justify the children's exclamations. Both 
 were grey and white. 
 
 " But how shall we know which is which ?" 
 said Chryssa. " I'll tell you — this one has got 
 two grey ears and that one has got one white 
 ear. Now you choose." 
 
 "Well I'll take grey ears," said Sybil. 
 
 " Then I'll take white ear," said Chryssa. " 1 
 
158 CATS AMD CRACKERS. 
 
 like it just as well. Now kitty don't scratch me. 
 Poor kitty !" — she exclaimed in some doubt, as 
 the kitten, clinging to Mary's apron with all its 
 might, wrinkled up its nose and mewed most pit- 
 eously. " What's the matter ? I won't hurt you." 
 
 " 'Twouldn't hurt her if ye did, I guess," said 
 Mary. "Here — I'll put 'em in yer aprons," said 
 she disengaging the kittens with what seemed no 
 very gentle pull. "There — now take 'em off and 
 put 'em to bed." 
 
 But where were they to sleep ? 
 
 The children said up stairs and Mrs. Rutherford 
 said down, and down it was ; though many were 
 the fears that the kittens would take cold in a 
 basket of hay on the kitchen hearth. And the 
 next question was what they should be called ; 
 for to go to sleep to dream of unnamed kittens, 
 was impossible. 
 
 After much deliberation, Sybil to whom the 
 matter was referred, dubbed her own Bess and the 
 other Cupid ; and then after one farewell pat, and 
 a minute's silence to see "if they were purring," 
 the two kittens who slept upstairs went thither. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 CLEAVELAND, 
 
 rpHERE were few people that came oftener to 
 
 Rose Hill than Mrs. Salisbury ; and she was 
 
 the children's grandmother. "Whenever her coach 
 
 was seen coming along the lane there was great 
 
160 CI. EAVELAXD. 
 
 calling and rejoicing from one to the other ; and 
 great desire to hear some of grandmamma's stories 
 over again ; with it must be confessed, some 
 curiosity to know what was in grandmamma's 
 basket. There was also a great deal of interest 
 connected with the crimped and puffed borders 
 of her caps ; and though Chryssa had been told 
 about fifty times how they were done, she always 
 forgot and asked again, — or perhaps she liked to 
 hear Mrs. Salisbury's description. If the old lady 
 had a favourite of the two children, it was cer- 
 tainly Sybil ; but this seemed to Chryssa quite 
 proper and natural, for she was the oldest and 
 knew so much the most ; and she never drew 
 any other inference from the relative size of their 
 workboxes or papers of candy. But she was very 
 much surprised one day when Mrs. Salisbury said, 
 
 " Chryssa, I want you to go back with me to 
 Cleaveland." 
 
 " Want me !" she said jumping up off the 
 floor. " Is Aunt Esther going ?" 
 
 " No, nobody is going but you. Grandpapa 
 made me promise to bring him one of his pets, 
 
CLEAVELAND. 161 
 
 and Aunt Esther and Sybil will come to-morrow 
 or next day. Will you go?" 
 
 " This morning ?" said Chryssa dofbtfully. " No 
 grandmamma, I don't think I can." 
 
 " Well will you go this afternoon ? Come," she 
 added, seeing that Chryssa looked more dismayed 
 than pleased, " don't you want to see grandpapa 
 and Brutus ? — and you shall have a little bed all 
 to yourself in my room." 
 
 The little bed was a great temptation, — it was 
 moreover very flattering to be asked ; and in 
 spite of some undefined misgivings at her inmost 
 heart, Chryssa consented to go in the afternoon, 
 and having once consented she would not draw 
 back. It would be very foolish, she thought, and 
 unkind too when she was so much wanted. For 
 Chryssa was very particular about people's feel- 
 ings. Many a time her aunt's arm thrown over 
 her at night when they were sleeping together, 
 was a heavier weight than her little body could 
 bear quite pleasantly ; but she would have been 
 crushed rather than say she found such a token 
 of Aunt Esther's love uncomfortable. 
 
162 CLEAV ELAND. 
 
 So Chryssa consented to go to Cleaveland ; — 
 and immediately after an early dinner the coach 
 came to the *door. Mrs. Salisbury had already 
 gone down the steps, and Chryssa was following, 
 when suddenly she turned about and ran up 
 again. 
 
 " Aunt Esther," she said, drawing Mrs. 
 Rutherford to one side of the hall, " won't you 
 please give me a verse for to-morrow ?" 
 
 Her aunt looked down at her, and smoothed 
 away the hair from that little upturned 
 face. 
 
 " It must be a short one," said Chryssa, " be- 
 cause you know if I couldn't remember it I 
 mightn't know where to find it." 
 
 And stooping to kiss her once more, Mrs. Ruth- 
 erford said, 
 
 " ' Our Father -which art in heaven.' 
 
 Look up to him Chryssie, and rest upon him, a 
 great deal more than you do upon me. You are 
 not going away from him." 
 
 Before the scale of pleasure or pain had fairly 
 
CLEAVELAND. 163 
 
 descended (perceptibly at least) in Chryssa's mind, 
 she was in the coach and outside the gate. 
 
 There was no doubt about it then. Into the 
 scale which held her going away from home 
 Chryssa threw all manner of thoughts and re- 
 collections, imaginations too, till it went down 
 and down and clown. Before they reached the 
 high road Mrs. Salisbury chanced to look at her 
 little companion, and saw that though she was 
 perfectly quiet and silent, the tears were running 
 down her cheeks as if their fountain were inex- 
 haustible. 
 
 " My dear Chryssa !" she said, — " what is the 
 matter ? Are you sick ?" 
 
 Chryssa might have answered that she never 
 cried for being sick, but she only shook her head. 
 
 " Don't you want to go with me ? Stop crying, 
 love, and I will tell Tim to turn the minute we 
 get to the road. I would not take you for any- 
 thing if you don't want to go." 
 
 No, Chryssa would not consent to turn back, — 
 she was steady in her resolve to go on ; and by 
 dint of rubbing her eyes very hard at last made 
 
164 CLEAVE LAX D. 
 
 them understand what was expected of them : 
 though whenever she tried to smile tears would 
 come first. But if her face could have been seen 
 when no one was looking at it, Mrs. Salisbury- 
 would have given Tim the order to turn without 
 more ado. 
 
 The drive was long. How long it seemed to 
 Chryssa when her heart flew back — when she 
 though^ how happy they all were at home ! — but it 
 ended at last ; though it was too dark for her to 
 see much besides the old chimneys against the eve- 
 ning sky, and the white gate through which they 
 passed and wheeled round to the front of the house. 
 
 " how sweet the honeysuckles are ?" said 
 Chryssa sitting up straight on the broad thick 
 cushion of the coach, roused at last by the per- 
 fume which came wafted in through the window. 
 And when Mr. Salisbury came out and lifted her 
 from the carriage, and made the old mastiff carry 
 her on his back across the piazza and into the 
 hall, she felt quite cheered. And then when she 
 was in the old parlour, taking off her things and 
 looking about, she brightened up yet more. 
 
CLEAVELAND. 165 
 
 Tea was just getting ready ; and not only was 
 there the pleasant sound of cups and saucers and 
 spoons, but a most agreeable smell of toast and 
 smoked beef and above all of green tea, through 
 the apartment. 
 
 Chryssa walked round the table, admiring the 
 little silver peacocks on the cover of the sugar- 
 bowl and the teapot lid as she had often ad- 
 mired them before, and comparing the device on 
 the spoon handles with that on their own spoons 
 and forks at Rose Hill. On the whole she 
 preferred the oakleaf to the shell, and had no 
 doubt but R. was a much prettier letter than 
 S. And so for a while matters went on well 
 enough. 
 
 But when all the old well-known objects had 
 jeen examined, and tea was over and the table 
 cleared, Chryssa's face began to take up its former 
 gravity ; and after some vain efforts to amuse and 
 brighten her up, Mrs. Salisbury proposed that she 
 should go to bed. 
 
 They went upstairs, and there sure enough was 
 the little bed, as nice and white as could be 
 
166 CLEAVELAND. 
 
 Chryssa was really pleased, for she had never in 
 her life slept by herself. 
 
 " Is this where Sybil slept ?" she inquired. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Salisbury, "this is the very 
 same bed. And I shall be in this other bed, 
 close by you, and will get you anything you 
 want." 
 
 Chryssa thought if the case were so, she would 
 have Aunt Esther and Sybil there directly ; but 
 she was in no mood to talk, and went to bed as 
 fast as possible without stopping to say her 
 prayers. Not that she forgot it ; but Mrs. Salis- 
 bury did not ask her to kneel at her lap as Mrs. 
 Rutherford would have done, and a new maid 
 was there whom she had never seen, and alto- 
 gether Chryssa felt strange and uncomfortable ; 
 and getting into her little bed she hid her face in 
 the pillow and prayed there — not without a good 
 many tears. She knew they had prayed for her 
 that night at home, for her uncle never forgot to 
 mention Sybil when she was away, and she felt 
 quite sure he would not forget Chryssa ; but here 
 nobody had prayed for them, or seemed to think 
 
CLEAVELAND. 
 
 167 
 
 of praying at all. She wondered what could be 
 the reason ; and then she went to sleep and 
 dreamed again that old dream about the bee and 
 the locust flowers. Meantime her grandmother 
 had gone down stairs, and the new maid sat by 
 the window, looking out. But when Mrs. Salisbury 
 came up again, and looked at the little sleeper in 
 her white bed ; the yet wet cheek and eyelashes 
 made her think it would be some strong reason 
 which should make her bring Chryssa alone to 
 Cleaveland a second time. 
 
 Morning brought brighter prospects, — when does 
 morning not brighten all within as well as with- 
 out ? and when Chryssa awoke, her little heart 
 turned a pirouette the very first thing, and she 
 thought it was doubtful whether anybody ever 
 could shed tears for anything. So she lay in her 
 little bed with her eyes bright with all manner of 
 pleasantness. First it was highly probable that 
 Aunt Esther would come to-day, — or if not, Sybil 
 might come — or her uncle ; — or at all events they 
 would all come to-morrow. Then she had an inde- 
 finite number of things to do to-day, to get ready 
 
168 CLEAVELAND. 
 
 for them, and no less than three distinct topics of 
 conversation already stored up, that were to be 
 revealed to no one but Sybil. And over and 
 through all, there was that undefined sense of 
 gladness which seems to ride into this world from 
 heaven direct, upon the early sunbeams. 
 
 A little noise at her side made her turn her 
 head, — it was only Mrs. Salisbury snoring. Chryssa 
 wondered very much how anybody could snore or 
 sleep, such a fine morning ; and getting out of bed 
 very softly she began to dress herself. She was 
 accustomed to do this, and always put her clothes 
 in nice order on a chair at night, with her shoes 
 and stockings under it on the floor, that she might 
 know just where to find them. But when she was 
 dressed, and had paid her respects to the old- 
 fashioned washstand in the corner, Chryssa began 
 to feel lonely again, and to wish that somebody 
 else would wake up. And then she remembered 
 her verse ; and she knelt down and prayed that 
 her Father in heaven would always love her and 
 make her his child. 
 
 Then she went and stood at the window, and 
 
CLEAVELAND. 169 
 
 watched the busy swallows that were fluttering 
 and twittering about their nests under the eaves 
 of the piazza. 
 
 " Chryssa !" Mrs. Salisbury called out from the 
 bed, "come right away child — don't stand there, 
 you'll tumble out." 
 
 "O no grandmamma," said Chryssa, but coming 
 away at the same time, "I wasn't leaning out at 
 all ; and there's the roof of the piazza, too." 
 
 "No matter," said Mrs. Salisbury, — "if you fell 
 out you might roll. Go down stairs, dear, and 
 I'll come presently." 
 
 So Chryssa went one step at a time down the 
 broad stairs, which gave no creaking acknowledg- 
 ment of such little feet ; stroked the great white 
 cat, that walked through the hall and away from 
 her with the air of a person at home ; and finally 
 herself walked into the parlour. 
 
 How pleasant that old parlour was of a fine 
 morning, it would be hard to tell anyone who 
 had never seen it. Two windows opened upon the 
 piazza. Between them hung an old-fashioned mir- 
 ror, its round frame set with so many knobs of 
 8 
 
110 CLEAVELAND. 
 
 gilding that you might have thought there was a 
 dozen Chryssas in the room, from the number of 
 little faces there represented. 
 
 Opposite this mirror were two doors — the one 
 leading to the kitchen department, the other the 
 entrance to a large pantry. A pleasant place that 
 pantry was, with its brown stone cake jars, and 
 glass pickle jars, and white earthen jars of peaches, 
 and purple glasses of crab-apples. The hall door 
 was on a third side of the room, and the fireplace 
 and two more windows on the fourth. Several old 
 family portraits, of Chryssa's great great grand- 
 fathers and mothers, hung upon the walls; and a 
 clock of very uncertain age ticked in one corner. 
 
 It was a favourite maxim with Mr. Salisbury, 
 that a fire was too pleasant a thing to be given 
 up at any time of year ; and on this morning as 
 on every other of the three hundred and sixty- 
 five, the fireplace held coals and ashes and two 
 or three sticks of wood and an insinuating little 
 flame ; though the amount of the two last articles 
 varied with the season. 
 
 On one side of the chimney stood an old ma- 
 
CLEAVELAND. 1T1 
 
 hogany work-table, a mahogany chair with leather 
 covered cushion, and a mahogany foot stool. The 
 leather was of no particular colour except that 
 of Time's bestowing, — only in one corner could 
 Cbryssa's eyes find out a small spot of blue; and 
 she often thought how splendid the chair must 
 have been in the days of its glory. Beneath the 
 work-table was a very small brass-nailed trunk. 
 
 Mr. Salisbury's chair, with its three or four 
 large square cushions, had the other corner of the 
 fireplace — and he himself had the chair. 
 
 There he sat, reading the newspaper when Chrys- 
 sa came in; and Brutus lay on the rug, and agreed 
 to all his master's notions about the fire. For 
 Brutus had grown old too; and was no longer in 
 so frisky a mood as he used to be when Sybil was 
 a little child, — when she used to walk round him 
 with most fearful and respectful admiration, and 
 say, 
 
 " Poor little dog ! poor little dog ! — he won't 
 hurt you !" 
 
 She might have walked over him now, and he 
 would hardly have raised his head. When Chrys- 
 
172 CLEAVELAND. 
 
 sa bid him good morning he only beat the floor 
 pretty hard with his tail. 
 
 The breakfast-table was set with blue India 
 china and the peacock tea-service ; the humming- 
 birds fluttered about the honeysuckles on the pi- 
 azza ; the swallows twittered round their nests ; 
 and the sun sent his long glad beams past birds 
 and bees and flowers, through the front windows 
 of the old parlour, till they rested upon the break- 
 fast-table and Chryssa. No wonder they all looked 
 bright. 
 
 ""Well," — said Mr. Salisbury, — "good morning. 
 Have you slept off the blues ?" 
 
 " yes," said Chryssa. " But I didn't know I 
 had any. What are blues, grandpapa ?'? 
 
 " Blues V said he looking at her over his 
 spectacles. " Why blues — are not precisely 
 reds. You've heard of rose colour, haven't 
 you ?" 
 
 "0 yes," said Chryssa again. "My damask 
 rose is rose-colour. But what makes those swal- 
 lows come into the piazza so ? And what are 
 they doing?" 
 
CLEAVELAND. 173 
 
 " Doing indeed V said Mr. Salisbury looking 
 over his spectacles again, but out of the window 
 this time and with very different eyes. "Why 
 they're building under the piazza-roof. I've had 
 the nests knocked down half a dozen times and I 
 think they're built up all the faster." 
 
 " Had the nests knocked down !" exclaimed 
 Chryssa. 
 
 "To be sure. Just see what a muss they 
 make," he added, as a bit of mud fell from the 
 loaded beak of a swallow. "And only look in 
 that corner where the last one was knocked down, 
 and see how dirty the paint is." 
 
 "But if there was a nest there the paint 
 wouldn't look dirty, would it ?" said Chryssa 
 
 " No, I suppose it wouldn't," said Mr. Salisbury, 
 "but the nest would." 
 
 "01 think they're so pretty 1" said Chryssa. 
 "Those mud nests?" 
 - " O yes grandpapa, I think they're beautiful. 
 And there is a bird inside of one, looking out. 
 How funny his eyes look 1" 
 
 "About as funny as yours do, I think," said 
 
114 CLEAVE LAND. 
 
 Mr. Salisbury. "Well the nests shall stay, if you 
 like them." 
 
 "0 may they?" said Chryssa. "And won't 
 you knock down any more ?" 
 
 " Not one. The swallows may thank you for it." 
 
 " I'm sure I thank you, very much, grandpapa," 
 she answered. " I'm so glad the nests may stay. 
 It's such a pity the swallows should have so much 
 trouble for nothing. 
 
 Breakfast was now ready, and they sat down to 
 the table ; but to Chryssa's sorrow again, her 
 grandmother began to pour out the coffee and 
 Mr. Salisbury gave her some potato, without one 
 word of thanks to the Giver of all good ; but just 
 as if the fine morning and breakfast and all their 
 happiness had come by chance. She had never 
 been there without her uncle before, and did not 
 know the habit of the family. Chryssa felt very 
 much puzzled, and tasted her tumbler of milk and 
 set it down again, feeling not quite sure whether 
 she ought to begin her breakfast. 
 
 " What's the matter, Chryssie ?" said Mrs. 
 Salisbury, — "the milk isn't sour, is it?" 
 
CLEAVELAND. 175 
 
 "0 no," said Chryssa, "it's very good." 
 
 "Then why don't you drink it?" said Mr. 
 Salisbury. "Drink it up and have some more." 
 
 " Because I haven't thanked God for it yet," 
 said Chryssa folding her hands gravely together, — 
 " and Aunt Esther says I ought to always thank 
 everybody for everything. She does — if it's ever 
 so little." 
 
 Mr. Salisbury swallowed his coffee and set down 
 the cup. 
 
 "Wife, give me another," he said. "Why 
 Chryssa, people don't return thanks till after 
 breakfast, that I ever heard of." 
 
 " but Uncle Ruth always asks a blessing," 
 said Chryssa, " and he says that is one way of 
 thanking God." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Salisbury, "as I'm half 
 through my breakfast you may as well begin 
 yours, and you can talk about this another 
 time." 
 
 After breakfast Mrs. Salisbury got ready to 
 go out and walk in the garden, and Chryssa 
 watched her with much pleasure. It was always 
 
176 CLEAVELAND 
 
 very amusing to look at her grandmother's pru- 
 nella shoes — so very different from her own little 
 kid ones ; and Mrs. Salisbury's sunbonnet, so per- 
 fectly white, so beautifully quilted, was worth 
 anybody's attention. An old green silk parasol, 
 antique and faded, completed the outfit ; and if 
 the parasol could have been changed into blue 
 satin, it is doubtful whether it would have suited 
 Chryssa so well, or in her opinion have kept off 
 the sun so effectually. She had a kind of rev- 
 erence for both articles ; and could not feel hot 
 while the one was upon her grandmother's head, 
 and the other held over her own. 
 
 And in this trim they walked round the gar- 
 den and visited the pigs, — Mrs. Salisbury very 
 busy with her own plans and arrangements, but 
 often ready to hear Chryssa's talk ; and Chryssa, 
 quite able to be amused in silence whenever it 
 was needful. 
 
 Then they came into the house and sat down 
 on a little flight of steps that led from the 
 kitchen to the washroom, to shell the peas for 
 dinner. 
 
CLEAVELAND. 11T 
 
 " Have you got any little chickens, grand- 
 mamma?" said Chryssa. 
 
 " Yes dear, a good many : you shall see them 
 after dinner. We've got two broods of bantams." 
 
 "What are bantams?" said Chryssa. 
 
 "They are little white chickens with feathered 
 legs. They look as if they had on some of your 
 ruffled pantalettes." 
 
 Chryssa was much pleased with the prospect 
 of seeing " such funny chickens ;" and the peas 
 being all shelled she went to wash her hands 
 and get ready for dinner. 
 
, //M/VXff* ' 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A LETTER AXD AX ARRIVAL 
 
 TVfOT even a visit to the bantams and the pro- 
 mise of a pair to take home with her, could 
 keep Chryssa's heart at rest all the afternoon. 
 For Aunt Esther had said that perhaps she and 
 
A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 119 
 
 Sybil would come " to-morrow," and it was " to- 
 morrow," and "perhaps" is a very unquieting 
 thing. 
 
 But though eyes and ears were on the watch 
 for a carriage, none came — except imaginary ones j 
 and the frequent coming of these was not to be 
 endured without growing sad. Chryssa's face be- 
 came as decidedly in twilight as did all the 
 objects out of doors ; and a little sigh now and 
 then, told that her heart had too much pent up 
 within it. 
 
 At last, just as the candles were lit, Mr. Salis- 
 bury came into the room with a letter in his 
 hand. 
 
 " Wife," said he, " do you know anybody in 
 this neighbourhood named Nerissa Botherford ?" 
 
 " O I'm sure it's for me !" said Chryssa. " You 
 don't read it rigat grandpapa, that's all. Please 
 give it to me !" 
 
 " — I see"— said Mr. Salisbury. " Maybe it 
 is — ' Miss Chryssa Rutherford' — that's it. But you 
 can't read the first word." 
 
 " Ah but please read it to me !" and the tear- 
 
180 A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 
 
 ful words were not to be trifled with. Mr. Salis- 
 bury sat down by the little stand, put on his 
 
 glasses, and read as follows. 
 
 '"Dear Chryssa, 
 
 '"How are you all? was not grandpapa very 
 much surprised to see you V- (no, not a bit.) 
 ' I suppose you play with shells a great deal. 
 Do you want to come home ? Don't you want 
 to see Aunt Esther and all of us very much V 
 (not she!) 'We manage some way or other to 
 go on very pleasantly without you.' 
 
 " Upon my word," said Mr. Salisbury looking 
 over his spectacles at Chryssa, "she don't de- 
 serve to have her letter read. I think I'll put 
 it in the fire, and you and I'll play backgammon." 
 
 " no, please don't !" said Chryssa. 
 
 "Well, / would if it was my letter. How- 
 ever — ' we manage to get along very pleasantly 
 without you, but I have not played with dolls 
 once since you went away. Yesterday I brought 
 up — Cuper, Caterpillar' — What the mischiefs 
 this?" 
 
A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 181 
 
 "It must be Cupid," said Chryssa laughing 
 and crying together. "That's my kitten." 
 
 " 0, Cupid — ' I brought up Cupid and Bess, 
 and warmed a cushion for them ; and they were 
 here the greatest part of the morning.' (That's 
 one way to bring up kittens!) 'I sucked one 
 of those oranges grandmamma gave me and then 
 played with the skin.' 
 
 " Wife," said Mr. Salisbury laying the letter 
 on the table and his spectacles on the letter, "I 
 wish you would take care what you give those 
 children. Here's Sybil sucking oranges and then 
 playing with the skin ! — It's no wonder she looks 
 peaked. What's the matter Chryssa ? I don't 
 see much to laugh at. And here's more of the 
 same kind. — 'I made some maple sugar fine and 
 then partly dried it. Aunt Esther was going 
 to write to you, but she is washing hard' — 
 what on earth does that mean ? Can't she 
 get a washerwoman ?" 
 
 " it can't be that, grandpapa," said Chryssa, 
 "because you know she never does wash." 
 
 " Well then I'll wipe my spectacles and look 
 
182 A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 
 
 again — it's 'sewing hard to be able to come up 
 to Cleaveland to-morrow evening or Thursday morn- 
 ing. Cupid is this moment lying on the green 
 cloth.' (She'd much better be in ,the barn.) 'I 
 am breaking myself of sucking my tongue, but you 
 must not go to begging for me. Give my love 
 and a kiss to all not forgetting yourself. Aunt 
 Esther says she does not know what to do with- 
 out you. 
 
 Your affectionate sister, 
 
 Sybil Rutherford.' " 
 
 "Well there's some sense in the end," said Mr. 
 Salisbury as he folded up the letter, " but how 
 you're to kiss yourself, / don't know. I suppose ♦ 
 I may deliver that message. !Now what shall I 
 do with this?" 
 
 Chryssa stretched out her hand for the letter, 
 nor did they part company the whole evening. 
 Sometimes she would try to spell out a sentence 
 or two, and sometimes she was quite satisfied to 
 see the outside of it, folded up in her hand. 
 
 "Grandmamma," she said, a little before bed- 
 
A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 183 
 
 time, "if you're not very busy, would you please 
 tell me about the time when you used to go to 
 eat clams, when you were a little girl ?" 
 
 "To be sure I will," said Mrs. Salisbury ; and 
 she took Chryssa on her lap and began. 
 
 "When I was a little girl, about as old as Sy- 
 bil, I used to go to school and have holiday every 
 Saturday. And sometimes when all the girls had 
 been very good and had learned their lessons well, 
 our mothers used to give us leave to have what 
 we called a pic-nic." 
 
 "That was to go and eat clams?" said Chryssa. 
 
 " Yes, that was what we meant by it. So then 
 the first thing was to go down to the shore and 
 see old Carlin. Old Carlin was a fisherman, and 
 he had a beautiful little boat which he called 
 'The Mayflower.' And he was a very nice, care- 
 ful man, and very good to us if we behaved our- 
 selves ; so that our mothers knew we might be 
 trusted with him. And we used to go Saturday 
 morning and ask old Carlin if he would take us 
 to Snipe island in the afternoon; and perhaps he 
 would say that the tide would not do for Snipe 
 
184 A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 
 
 island, but he would take us to Shell island; and 
 he would say we must be sure and come by four 
 o'clock, and not keep him waiting. 
 
 Then at four o'clock we were all there, and 
 each girl had her basket. Some brought tea and 
 coffee, and some brought milk, and sugar, and cake 
 and bread, and cold ham, and butter, and pepper 
 and salt, and a clean table cloth, and a teakettle, 
 and cups and saucers and plates, and a gridiron. 
 And the Mayflower was all ready too ; and when 
 all the children and baskets were nicely stowed 
 away, we set out. 
 
 Then when we got to the island we used to 
 run about, and play tag, and pick up shells, while 
 old Carlin was getting clams." 
 
 " How did he get them ?" asked Chryssa. 
 
 " Why he used to take a spade and dig them 
 out of the mud, or wade into the water and pick 
 them up. And when he had got enough he would 
 call out, 
 
 " Come girls ! — it's time for supper." 
 
 And the boys all stopped their play and ran 
 to pick up drift wood and make a fire, and the 
 
A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 185 
 
 girls filled the teakettle from the beautiful little 
 spring and put it on to boil." 
 
 "What was drift wood?" said Chryssa. 
 "It was wood that had fallen into the sea, and 
 drifted and tossed about for a great while, till 
 some high tide threw it up on the shore, — and 
 then it lay there in the sun and became as dry 
 as could be. And when we had made the fire, 
 we put up two crotch sticks and a straight one 
 across, and on that we hung the teakettle. Then 
 when there were plenty of red hot coals we put 
 our gridiron down and roasted the clams, and then 
 we had tea." 
 
 " It tasted good, didn't it ?" said Chryssa 
 : ' I think it did ! And when we had eaten 
 enough, we washed up all the dishes and packed 
 our baskets, and then went to play again. And 
 when the sun was just dipping into the sea, old 
 Carlin would call out, 
 
 " Come girls ! — it's time to go home." 
 " And then we all stopped play and got into 
 the Mayflower again, and reached home just before 
 it, was Quite dark, — tired enough, I can tell you." 
 
186 A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 
 
 By this time Chryssa was tired too, and so 
 near asleep that she almost forgot to bid Mr. 
 Salisbury goodnight. 
 
 Sybil had made a bright suggestion about the 
 shells, and next morning Chryssa begged that she 
 might have them to play with. 
 
 Their play with shells was a queer thing. The 
 children named them after a fashion of their own, 
 calling some pigs and some elephants and some 
 cows, as any fancied resemblance directed. And 
 when the back of a large shell had been slightly 
 waxed, a little shell could be made to stay there- 
 on, and so ride about in triumph. 
 
 So after breakfast, Mrs. Salisbury took a bunch 
 of keys from her bag — where they had rubbed 
 and jingled about till every key was as bright as 
 a looking-glass — and proceeded upstairs to what 
 was called the spare room. 
 
 It was furnished in a peculiar style. 
 
 The chairs were of some light yellow wood, 
 curiously cut and carved on the back into various 
 figures and devices, — the centre-piece of this open- 
 work being always some animal. It was Chryssa's 
 
A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 181 
 
 delight to go from one chair to another, admiring 
 the stag's head always thrown back and the cow's 
 tail always laid round upon one side, and the 
 tiger, the elephant, and the wild boar, always dis 
 playing their own peculiar marks of ferocity ; 
 until from leaning so long upon the cane chair- 
 bottoms her elbows were so deeply indented and 
 honeycombed as to be in themselves matter of 
 curiosity. 
 
 The bureau in this room was just as unlike all 
 other bureaus as the chairs were unlike all other 
 chairs. Old dark wood, most carefully inlaid 
 with two other and lighter coloured kinds, suited 
 well the curved drawers and dovetailed top ; and 
 the bureau's contents were the best of all. It 
 always seemed to Sybil and Chryssa a true con- 
 jurer's bag, from which their grandmother brought 
 forth curiosities that had no rivals elsewhere and 
 no limit but her will. Coins, engravings, scent 
 bottles, queer boxes, sweet-smelling nuts, shells, 
 pictures, stones, — too many things indeed to be 
 mentioned, were here stowed away ; and it was 
 from one of these bureau drawers that Mrs. 
 
188 A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 
 
 Salisbury now took a large box of shells, and 
 carried it down into the parlour for Chryssa'a 
 amusement. 
 
 But it was like the king who bought Punch, 
 and when he got him home found that Punch 
 was nothing by himself. What were the shells 
 to Chryssa without Sybil ? — and how could she 
 play with them ? She could to be sure put a 
 pig on an elephant and push them about ; but 
 if the pig fell off there was nobody to laugh, 
 and if it stuck on there was nobody to admire. 
 She was soon tired of the shells and asked for the 
 billiard balls — two or three odd ones which seemed 
 to have rolled into the house no one knew how, 
 on purpose for playthings. Mrs. Salisbury got 
 out the balls from her worktable drawer, and 
 Chryssa sat down on the floor to roll them. 
 
 But it was poor fun to send the ball off to 
 the corner of the room and then get up and go 
 after it ; — she had no heart to slide down on the 
 great chair cushions, — what should she do ? Her 
 eye fell upon the little brass-nailed trunk ; and 
 begging for the key, Chryssa lugged out the 
 
A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 189 
 
 trunk and began to examine and arrange its con- 
 tents. Tapes, thread, needles and buttons were 
 unfolded and refolded ; — for the fifty-first time, 
 at least, Chryssa looked at the old-fashioned 
 thread-case which was used in Revolutionary 
 years, and heard her grandmother tell how scarce 
 everything was then ; and how she had often 
 hemmed a cambric handkerchief and a brown 
 towel with the same needle. 
 
 At the bottom of the trunk lay a little pack- 
 age nicely pinned up in white paper, containing 
 some of Sybil's attempts at painting. Queer things 
 they were ; little baskets such as nobody ever 
 saw, filled with flowers that nobody ever heard 
 of. But their colours were bright, and Sybil 
 painted them — reason enough for their interest in 
 Chryssa's eyes ; and when she had looked and 
 talked herself tired, Mrs. Salisbury took her up 
 on her lap and sang 
 
 "Little Bopeep 
 Fell fast asleep," 
 
 till Chryssa fell asleep too, out of pure sympathy. 
 What waked her up ? She didn't know at 
 
190 A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 
 
 first, when she started up and rubbed her eyes, 
 only she thought she had been dreaming of riding 
 to church. But it was very dark in the room, 
 and she couldn't see anything distinctly, till at 
 that moment candles came in ; and then she saw 
 that Mrs. Salisbury was smiling at her ; and look- 
 ing round there stood Sybil, and Mr. and Mrs. 
 Rutherford were just behind. how glad Chryssa 
 was ! and her spring to them told them so in- 
 stead of words, — indeed as words could not. She 
 was too happy that evening, and talked away 
 like a little cricket. How gladly she shared her 
 little white bed with Sybil, — how charmingly they 
 played with shells the next day ! Sybil decided 
 that the box wanted putting in order ; and they 
 emptied all the different kinds of shells into sepa- 
 rate little saucers, and dislodged the runaway lit- 
 tle shells which had lodged in cracks and cor- 
 ners, and put them with their proper kind. To 
 be sure the job was rather long and tedious, but 
 it was done at last, and well done. 
 
 There were other amusements. Before break- 
 fast Chryssa had espied a peacock's feather in 
 
A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 191 
 
 one of the trees before the house ; and after 
 several trials Mr. Rutherford had brought 
 down the prize. And then he balanced the 
 long slender thing on his forefinger, to Chryssa's 
 great delight. 
 
 " How could it get up in that tree, Uncle 
 Ruth?" she said. 
 
 " I suppose the peacock roosted there last 
 night." 
 
 " 'Way up in that tree ?" 
 
 "Yes, — in fine weather they always roost in the 
 tree-tops, and when it is going to rain they choose 
 some of the lower branches." 
 
 " But what made the peacock leave it there ?" 
 said Chryssa. 
 
 " I suppose it dropped out of his tail," said 
 Mr. Rutherford smiling. 
 
 " I hope he don't want it," said Chryssa as 
 she stroked the long feather, "for I like to have 
 it very much." 
 
 "He must do without it," said her uncle. "We 
 should be puzzled to put the feather back again, 
 or to find the right bird. And a peacock's tail- 
 
192 A LETTER AND AN ARRIVAL. 
 
 feather is not much of a curiosity to himself, 
 Chryssie." 
 
 They went back to Rose Hill that day. The 
 two bantams in the coach-box, ia a most un- 
 comfortable state of mind — the children full of 
 pleasure and talk. There was only one thing to 
 be regretted — Chryssa had left her feather at 
 Cleaveland. 
 
 But as she remarked, "she could get it next 
 time." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CURIOSITY BOX, 
 
 TT did not seem likely that the larger box 
 
 would be soon" needed. Collecting went on 
 
 slowly. Whatever became of the dead butterflies 
 
 they did not fall in Chryssa's way, and she began 
 9 
 
iy4 THE CURIOSITY BOS. 
 
 almost to doubt of ever finding any. To be sure, 
 she did fiud a flying grasshopper lying on the walk 
 one day, but he did not look near so pretty with 
 his yellow wings folded up and the brown ones 
 lapped over them. He had lost one of his legs 
 too, so though Chryssa put him in her box she 
 did not think much of him. 
 
 One morning as she stood in the grove while 
 the chickens eat their breakfast, she saw on one 
 of the trees what seemed to be the wing of some 
 insect ; and looking nearer she found that there 
 was a little hole in the tree, and into this hole 
 the insect had crept. It seemed to be dead, for 
 it gave no heed to the gentle ascertaining poke3 
 of Chryssa's finger, and at length she carefully 
 pulled it out. It was a curious kind of brown 
 bug, an inch and a half long, and quite dead. 
 . " There," said Sybil, " you see it's worth while 
 to look. No wonder you never found anything 
 before. This you got by taking a little trouble 
 for it." 
 
 Chryssa felt half disappointed nevertheless, — it 
 was a bug certainly, but it wasn't a purple but- 
 
THE CURIOSITY BOX. 195 
 
 terfly nor even a yellow one. However, as Sybil 
 said, she had got it by taking pains, there was 
 something in that; so the bug went to keep the 
 grasshopper company. 
 
 But the little tin box looked very empty 
 
 "I wish I could find something to put in my 
 box, Aunt Esther," she said. 
 
 " I wish you could my dear. Will nothing do 
 but butterflies ?" 
 
 " 0, I'd like anything curious," said Chryssa. 
 
 " Anything curious. "Well, I think I must go 
 curiosity-seeking with you this afternoon; and in 
 the mean time you may have this, if you think it 
 remarkable enough to lie alongside of the brown 
 bug." 
 
 It was a silk-worm's cocoon. 
 
 "01 like it dearly !" cried Chryssa. " O 
 thank you Aunt Esther I Where did you get 
 
 a ?" 
 
 " I hardly know dear ; I found it this morning 
 among a quantity of old things in a drawer." 
 
 " And if the moth should come out and should 
 die, I might keep that too," said Chryssa. 
 
196 THE CURIOSITY BOX. 
 
 Mrs. Rutherford smiled. 
 
 " I don't think the moth will ever come out," 
 she said, " I must have had that cocoon a long 
 time." 
 
 '• "Why didn't it come out before, I wonder," 
 said Chryssa, — "do you think this was once put 
 in hot water?" 
 
 " Maybe so." 
 
 " Well I'm very glad I've got it, and perhaps 
 we'll find some more this afternoon." 
 
 In the afternoon however, Chryssa's patience 
 was sorely tried, for one visiter after another came 
 in, and she began to despair of her walk. They 
 were not people that she and Sybil cared to see, 
 either, and after being " very good" and very tired 
 for some time on the little benches by the fire- 
 place, they jumped up and ran out to play in the 
 hay. 
 
 Now it was well that Garret was so good- 
 uatured a man ; for although the hay itself was 
 in no danger of harm, yet to see the nice cocks 
 which he had carefully put up, so unceremoniously 
 dealt with, was or might have been a trial of 
 
THE CURIOSITY BOX. 19T 
 
 patience. But he ivas very good-natured ; and 
 when Sybil plumped down upon one haycock, and 
 Chryssa scrambled up to the top of another, Gar- 
 ret only smiled and shook his head, and told them 
 they were making him " a fine piece of work." 
 
 I suppose there never was anything so sweet 
 as hay — nor anything so pleasant as to tumble 
 in it ; — certainly these children thought so, as 
 they chased each other from cock to cock, and 
 lay at the bottom, and lay at the top, and rolled 
 all the way down ; and regarded the sharp points 
 of the hay which stuck into their elbows and 
 knees as mere trifles of life ! No, there never 
 was anything half so pleasant ; and their light 
 weight did not do Garret much mischief after all. 
 
 At last, fairly tired, they sat themselves down 
 against a large haycock near the gate, to rest 
 and grow cool. 
 
 " I should think grasshoppers would be roasted 
 to death,' was Sybil's first remark as she fanned 
 herself with her sunbonnet. 
 
 " Maybe they do," said Chryssa, " only their 
 
198 THE CURIOSITY BOX. 
 
 faces don't get red. And I s'pose they have to 
 hop." 
 
 " No," said Sybil, " they can walk — I've seen 
 'em walking on the road." 
 
 " O yes, so have I," said Chryssa, " but they 
 look so funny. I don't believe they could walk 
 far. Oh dear ! I'm afraid we shan't walk a bit 
 this whole afternoon 1" 
 
 "There comes one of the people, at last," said 
 Sybil : " maybe the rest will follow him. What 
 book has he got in his hand, I wonder ? he 
 didn't have one when he came. I hope he hasn't 
 been borrowing some of mine. I do believe that's 
 my Sandford and Merton ! Run and see, Chryssa." 
 
 "0 no ! — I can't," said her sister. 
 
 " But you must ! run quick or he'll be out of 
 the gate." 
 
 "Well why don't you go?" said Chryssa. "/ 
 don't want to know what he's got." 
 
 " No, I want you to go ; now Chryssa run ! 
 I tell you he'll be gone." 
 
 "I don't care if he is," said Chryssa, getting 
 up very slowly ; for she didn't like the job, 
 
THE CURIOSITY BOX. 199 
 
 though Sybil's seniority and earnestness prevailed 
 according to custom. " I wish he was, I'm sure I 
 What shall I say ?" 
 
 "Tell him he can't have it, that I'm reading 
 it." 
 
 By no means resolved to tell him that, or any- 
 thing, Chryssa set forth and walked towards the 
 gate ; rather sidling along among the haycocks, 
 and in perfect uncertainty what to do. By sun- 
 dry timid looks however, she satisfied herself of 
 what she was most willing to believe, that the 
 book in question was not Sandford and Merton ; 
 so waiting till the gate closed upon the gentle- 
 man, she returned to her sister. 
 
 " Well, what did he say ?" 
 
 " I didn't ask him — I didn't think it looked 
 like Sandford and Merton." 
 
 "What did it look like? any of my books? 
 my Son of a Genius?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Chryssa. 
 
 " Did you go up to him ?" 
 
 "No indeed, I was afraid to." 
 
 "Afraid!" said Sybil. "Well you are a nice 
 
200 THE CURIOSITY BOX. 
 
 child to do anything, I do think I" and she got 
 up and walked to the house. 
 
 All the visiters were gone, but it was too late 
 for a walk. Mr. Rutherford presently came home, 
 and they had tea, and after tea a great romp 
 with the kittens. 
 
 Cupid and Bess were in a most flourishing 
 state of health and happiness, and not even the 
 older part of the family could help laughing at 
 their antics ; while the mirth of the children was 
 unmeasured. 
 
 Bess would set up her tail in the air, and with 
 a most wild look of ears and eyes catch hold of 
 the green baize with her claws, shake it, ther 
 with another set of the tail frisk off, hotly pur 
 sued by Cupid — who all this time had lain ir 
 close ambush under a chair. Then came a. roll 
 and a tumble, a boxing of ears and kicking, a 
 jump off and a standing at defiance, and then 
 another roll and another frisk. Then Sybil would 
 lift up one corner of the cloth and throw it over 
 one or both of the kittens, and such a fuss as 
 there was then ! and such a time when they were 
 
THE CURIOSITY BOX. 201 
 
 released ! The kittens played and the children 
 laughed till bedtime, and neither one nor the 
 other knew how the evening passed. 
 
 The next morning as usual Chryssa was out 
 very early among the flowers ; but as she stepped 
 carefully on the border, where her foot would do 
 no harm, to look at a little caper tree just then in 
 fruit, she was checked by something drawn tight 
 across her forehead, — as if the fairy of the caper- 
 tree had put up a light barrier. Chryssa drew 
 back, and then saw what seemed like a spider's 
 web — all begemmed with dewdrops, and stretching 
 from a rosebush on one side of the caper-tree to 
 a rosebush on the other. But could it be a spi- 
 der's web ? it looked and felt more like a thread 
 of fine sewing-silk. Her doubts were soon an- 
 swered, for looking up a little higher she saw the 
 proprietor of this thread and some others like it, 
 in the shape of a very large and beautiful spider. 
 His body was perhaps as large as a common bee- 
 tle and of a bright yellow colour, but with sundry 
 stripes of black and red ; and his leg3 quite large 
 enoncrh to support it. Chryssa felt reallv afraid 
 
 9* 
 
202 THE CURIOSITY BOX. 
 
 of him, for though he hung there very peaceably 
 in his web she thought he looked fierce enough. 
 Me a tally she transferred him to her tin box ; but 
 as for anything further, she would hardly have 
 ventured to touch him if he had been dead. So 
 she contented herself with gently touching the 
 lowest thread from time to time with her finger, 
 and thinking how very strong it was, how beauti- 
 ful the spider, and how very little she would like 
 to have him jump upon her. Moreover she won- 
 dered if he had stayed out all night in the clew, 
 and if such remarkable spiders were to be found 
 in anybody's garden but their own. She was just 
 running to call her uncle to see the insect, when 
 she herself was called to breakfast. 
 
 At breakfast the children were told that Mrs. 
 Lee, a sister of Mrs. Rutherford's, was coming to 
 stay a week at Rose Hill. This announcement 
 gave, great pleasure and plenty to talk about. 
 
 " Is Aunt Eunice going to bring all her children?" 
 said Sybil as they sat upstairs after breakfast. 
 
 '• No — only Fulvi. Kitty stays at home to keep 
 house." 
 
THE CURIOSITY BOX. 203 
 
 "Aunt Esther," said Chryssa, who had been 
 thinking in very grave silence, " do you like 
 Fulvi ? is she a nice child ?" 
 
 "What do you think, Chryssie ?" 
 
 " I haven't seen her in a great while," said 
 Chryssa with a considering look. "I don't know 
 — I used to like her very much. But I was 
 thinking of what she did about the gooseberries. 
 Was that right?" 
 
 " What did she do about the gooseberries ? 
 I'm sure I don't know." 
 
 "Don't you remember Aunt Esther — when I 
 was a very little child and told a story ?" 
 
 The case was this. When Chryssa was indeed 
 a very little child Fulvi Lee paid a visit at Rose 
 Hill ; and she and Chryssa one morning helped Mrs. 
 Rutherford to pull the stems off a quantity of 
 gooseberries. Having occasion to go downstairs 
 Mrs. Rutherford left the two children and the 
 dish in the upper hall, bidding them take no more 
 berries as she thought they had eaten enough. 
 But the temptation was too strong, and Chryssa 
 took one more — just one. 
 
204 THE CURIOSITY BOX. 
 
 When Mrs. Rutherford came back she asked if 
 they had touched the fruit ; and upon another 
 temptation Chryssa answered, though hesitatingly, 
 no. 
 
 "Yes she did," said Fnlvi, "I saw her take 
 one." 
 
 There was no need that anybody should say a 
 word more, for Mrs. Rutherford's look of sorrow 
 called forth tears enough to be long remembered; 
 and even now Chryssa could not speak of the 
 time without a sad face. But though she did 
 not wish that Fulvi had kept silence, her speak- 
 ing did not quite suit Chryssa's notions of high- 
 mindedness. 
 
 They went to walk that afternoon, to see what 
 could be found in the way of curiosities ; and 
 Chryssa carried a little basket which gave Sybil 
 at least one laugh. 
 
 "Do you think you will get that basket full 
 of butterflies in one walk ?" she said. 
 . "But I must take something," said Chryssa. 
 
 "Very true," said Mrs. Rutherford; "and a 
 basket so small that it would hold only one but- 
 
THE C'lKIOSU'Y box. 205 
 
 terfly would hardly keep that from tumbling out. 
 See, here is something curious already.'* She had 
 picked up a twig with one or two brown rough- 
 looking knobs on it near the end. 
 
 "Those little knots of wood!" said Sybil. "0 
 Aunt Esther, you are laughing at her now your- 
 self." 
 
 "Indeed I am not; — in the first place they are 
 not knots of wood, and in the second they are 
 very curious." 
 
 "Well what are they then?" said Sybil a little 
 impatiently. 
 
 "They are oak galls. Some insects you know 
 lay their eggs vpon leaves and twigs, but there 
 are others which first make a puncture in the 
 twig or the leaf." 
 
 " What is a puncture ?" said Chryssa. 
 
 "If I were to prick your arm with this pin 
 I should make a puncture in it," said her aunt. 
 " The pin would leave a little bit of a hole 
 through the skin. The gall-fly makes such a lit- 
 tle hole through the skin of the leaf or the bark 
 of the twig, and in this little hole she deposits 
 
206 THE CURIOSITY BOX. 
 
 an egg; and the substance of the twig being thus 
 wounded grows out over the egg and by degrees 
 covers it entirely; sometimes with such a rough 
 knob as this, sometimes with a smooth little round 
 ball." 
 
 " But what becomes of the egg ?" said Sybil. 
 " I should think it would spoil it to be covered 
 up with all that stuff." 
 
 '• It is that very stuff which preserves it. The 
 egg is kept from too much heat or cold or wet, 
 and when the grub is hatched it lives there quite 
 safe through all the stages of its growth, then 
 changes into a chrysalis, and then the little gall- 
 fly eats its way out, and goes to lay its eggs on 
 some other twig. Look, do you see that little 
 hole ?" 
 
 "Well that is curious to be sure," said Sybil. 
 " But what does the worm live on in there ?" 
 
 " On the substance of the gall." 
 
 " Here is one without any hole in it," said 
 Chryssa ; " I have turned it round and round." 
 
 Mrs Rutherford cut it open, and there to be 
 sure was a little worm. • 
 
THE CURIOSITY BOX. 207 
 
 " I wish you hadn't cut that one, Aunt Esther," 
 said Chryssa, "though it can't be helped, and I'm 
 glad we saw the worm, too; but I should like to 
 have one with a hole and one without a hole." 
 
 The gall was placed in Chryssa's basket and 
 they walked on. 
 
 " Are galls good for anything ?" said Sybil. 
 
 " Not this kind ; but the oak galls which are 
 brought from the East Indies and from those 
 countries that border on the Mediterranean are 
 very valuable. They are used to make ink and 
 in dyeing." 
 
 " And do they dye things this pretty brown co- 
 lour ?" said Chryssa. 
 
 " No dear, they dye them black." 
 
 The walk had begun with good promise, but 
 as they went on and on nothing more appeared, 
 though Chryssa's eyes and hands too, hunted about 
 on every side. Flowers there were in abundance, 
 but they were not the things most desired at 
 present ; though the beautiful bunches of meadow 
 asclepias, and the more splendid scarlet hibiscus 
 that grew in a wilderness of wild plants by the 
 
208 T H E C U R I S I T Y I! X . 
 
 water, could not be passed without gathering. 
 There were butterflies too, in plenty ; but they 
 only flitted about in the sunshine and refreshed 
 themselves with sips of honey, in perfect disregard 
 of Chryssa and her basket ; and she could not 
 find it in her heart to be sorry that they were 
 alive and in such comfortable circumstances. But 
 she did sigh a little, once, when she looked from 
 a great swallow-tail down into her basket. 
 
 " Cheer up, Chryssie !" said Mrs. Rutherford 
 smiling, — " collectors of curiosities must never be 
 discouraged. 
 
 " But I've found nothing Aunt Esther, only 
 this one gall — and you found that." 
 
 "Well dear — if patience doesn't give way, it 
 will grow all the stronger for being tried. Dis- 
 appointments are better than butterflies sometimes, 
 and maybe we shall find the butterflies to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 "Well, maybe we shall," said Chryssa trying 
 hard to look bright, and realizing as some other 
 people have done, that if patience be "a good 
 root" it is not a very sweet one. "I s'pose people 
 
THE CCRIOSITY BOX. 209 
 
 don't generally find a great deal at once. Will 
 you please to hold my flowers Aunt Esther ? be- 
 cause I can't crawl under the fence with my hands 
 so full.'' 
 
 But when Chryssa had crawled far enough to 
 get exactly under the rails, she called oat in a 
 tone of great delight, 
 
 " I've found something now ! I've found 
 something now ! It isn't a butterfly but it's a 
 beetle ! A srreat vellow beetle — with such shining 
 wings. I guess he's dead.'' 
 
 The beetle was dead, and so made no objection 
 to Chryssa's picking him up ; which indeed she 
 did with a carefulness that could not have hurt 
 a live beetle. 
 
 "Don't you mean to come out from under the 
 fence, Chryssa ?" said Sybil, who by this time 
 had jumped over. 
 
 •" Yes, I'm coming,' 1 said Chryssa. " but the 
 fence isn't very high — from the ground I mean. 
 Look ! isn't he beautiful ?" 
 
 Even Sybil declared he was "quite pretty," 
 and well satisfied now. Chryssa reached home and 
 
210 THE CURIOSITY BOX. 
 
 ran upstairs for her tin box. Down she came in 
 a minute again, and asked Mrs. Rutherford if 
 she couldn't give her " some little old box." 
 
 "Is the tin box full, Chryssa?" 
 
 " No Aunt Esther, but this gall that you gave 
 me is so heavy I'm afraid it will roll about and 
 break my yellow beetle ; and I should like an- 
 other little box so much." 
 
 Mrs. Rutherford hunted up an old wafer box 
 which was just the thing ; but as it was thought 
 to be too handsome for the gall, the yellow bee- 
 tle was shut up there in solitary grandeur. 
 
CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN, 
 
 " TTr^^'T y° u come and see me feed the chickens 
 this morning, Uncle Ruth ?" said Chryssa. 
 "Pray do, Uncle Ruth," said Sybil, "it's really 
 curious. Do you know when Chryssa stoops down 
 
212 CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 
 
 near the coop, the chickens jump up on her 
 back." 
 
 " And O Uncle Ruth !" added Chryssa, " some- 
 times all the chickens have run down the bank 
 except one, and when he sees me coming he 
 runs and calls the others, and then they all run 
 home as fast as they can." 
 
 " Call each other to breakfast !" said Mr. 
 Rutherford as he followed the children. "That's 
 a likely story !" 
 
 " But they really do," said Sybil. " I never 
 saw anything so funny." 
 
 "There's nobody here now but Browny," said 
 Chryssa as she ran up to the coop. " Chickie, 
 chickie ! Now Uncle Ruth you watch." 
 
 Certainly Browny's behaviour was remarkable. 
 Instead of picking up the meal which Chryssa 
 threw down by the coop, he ran off to the edge 
 of the bank, at the foot of which the other 
 chickens -were disporting themselves ; and whether 
 he called to them — or whether his appearance 
 alone was to be considered as the breakfast-bell — 
 a kind of telegraphic despatch that Chryssa had 
 
CHRYSSA AXD HER COUSIN. 213 
 
 arrived, — it is true that the whole brood came 
 scampering up just as fast as little legs and half- 
 grown wings could bring them, — and that was 
 pretty fast. And when they had eaten enough, 
 and Chryssa came and crouched down by the 
 coop ; she had a grey chicken on her head and 
 a white one on her shoulder in no time, — exactly 
 as Sybil had said. 
 
 " Uncle Ruth," said Chryssa as they walked 
 back to the house, "do you know that. my little 
 bantam hen made a nest by one of the locust 
 trees, and there were seven eggs in it ; and yester- 
 day she came off with seven little bantam chickens, 
 and Garret says she went into the long grass 
 where he couldn't find her. And now he says 
 he's afraid to mow there for fear he should 
 tread on the chickens." 
 
 " He must watch for them to-night," said Mr. 
 Rutherford. "Perhaps the hen will not choose 
 to sleep in the grass, and she may take them 
 back to the nest again." 
 
 It came into Chryssa's head that it would be 
 a fine piece of fun to look for the chickens her- 
 
214 CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 
 
 self ; so she set off for the plat of unmown grass, 
 and Filly went after her. 
 
 Filly was a little white dog belonging to the chil- 
 dren, and as fond of hay and of play as they were. 
 
 By the time Chryssa reached the place where 
 the hen was supposed to lie hid, she had got 
 into a great frolic with Filly. 
 
 It was a nice place for a frolic. All about 
 under foot the cut grass lay in soft masses, now 
 higher now lower ; while at the edge of this 
 part of the meadow, redtop and clover lifted 
 their pretty heads untouched as yet by Garret's 
 scythe, and swayed and swept to and fro as 
 the summer breeze went by on its wanderings. 
 Chryssa forgot all about the chickens, and began 
 to run races with Filly, and to cover him up 
 with the cut grass ; and then she took a run in 
 the grass that was not cut, and as it was rather 
 long for Filly's short legs he went bounding after 
 her — taking leaps that were pretty to see ; and 
 no less pretty were his white head and soft 
 feathery tail among the sunshiny green grass. 
 
 All at once Chryssa heard a queer little noise — 
 
CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 215 
 
 not like a hen clucking or cackling, but such a 
 noise as a hen might make if she should chance 
 to snore. Chryssa jumped out into the clear 
 space and looked about her ; and there, cautiously 
 peeping out from among the standing grass, were 
 the red comb and the yellow beak of the little 
 runaway hen. 
 
 " Oh Filly," said Chryssa, " this will never 
 do I" and then she danced off away from the 
 bantam, and of course Filly, being an unsuspect- 
 ing little dog, danced after her ; though if he 
 had known what lay hid in the grass he would 
 have danced just the other way, for it would 
 have been his perfect delight to frighten every 
 one of the chickens out of its wits. 
 
 But Chryssa got him away to the house, and 
 when he was safely shut up there she went back 
 with Garret to see after the chickens ; and be- 
 fore long the whole brood with their little feather- 
 footed mother were in a nice coop. Chryssa her- 
 self caught several of the little downy things, 
 though they hid among the grass till it was hard 
 to find them. 
 
216 CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 
 
 Mrs. Lee arrived that night, but so late that 
 the children had little more than time to look 
 at each other and then go to bed. But long 
 before the tired travellers thought of getting up 
 next morning, Chryssa was on the watch for 
 their first movement ; and as soon as she heard 
 steps in Mrs. Lee's room she begged for admit- 
 tance. 
 
 Fulvia Lee was putting on her shoes and stock- 
 ings, and Chryssa stood by to see with her hands 
 behind her. 
 
 " I hope you feel rested," she said, " because 
 we shall want to run about a great deal to-day." 
 
 " What for ?" said Fulvi, who being a city 
 child had but limited ideas of running about. 
 
 " Why because it's pleasant !" said Chryssa, — 
 " and to find things. Have you got any green 
 shoes ?" 
 
 "No," said Fulvi. 
 
 "Uncle Ruth bought mc a pair last week." 
 
 " I have got some red ones," said Fulvia. 
 
 " Have you ?" said Chryssa : "I dare say they 
 must be very pretty. Are they pink or red ?" 
 
CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 217 
 
 "Red," said Fulvi, — "they're just as red ag 
 mamma's shawl." 
 
 Chryssa thought something less red would suit 
 her taste better, but she only said, 
 
 " Did you ever see any purple butterflies ?" 
 
 "No," said Fulvi again. "I saw two butterflies 
 once, but they were yellow." 
 
 " I'm so glad you have come !" said Chryssa, 
 " for now we can look for things together ; you 
 shall keep all you find and I'll keep all I find, — 
 that'll be fair. Don't you like yellow beetles very 
 much ?" 
 
 "I don't know what they are." 
 
 "Well they're like — no they're not like a but- 
 terfly either, but they've got hard shiny wings and 
 such sharp feet ! — my yellow beetle always sticks 
 to my hands when I take him up." 
 
 "I shouldn't like them then," said Fulvi. 
 
 " yes you would, very much, 'cause they're 
 beautiful. They're dead you know, they couldn't 
 hurt you. I shouldn't like a live one, either." 
 
 " Shall we find any purple butterflies V said 
 
 Fulvi. 
 
 10 
 
218 CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 
 
 "0 yes!" said Chryssa. "At least I haven't 
 Ibimd any yet, but I hope we shall. Have you 
 got any little chickens?" 
 
 " I haven't got any — I've seen 'em." 
 
 "Well I've got a great many, — at least I've got 
 seven of my own and Uncle Ruth lets me feed his." 
 
 "Who gave you yours?" said Fulvi. 
 
 " Grandmamma gave me two old little white 
 ones, when I went to Cleaveland, and the hen 
 made a nest under a tree and now she's got seven 
 chickens. She took 'em into the grass and we 
 had such work to find 'em ! and Filly almost 
 found them too." 
 
 "Who's Filly?" 
 
 " My little dog — at least our little dog, — Sybil's 
 and mine." 
 
 " I mean to have some chickens when I go 
 home," said Fulvia. " I've got two pigeons now." 
 
 " Pigeons !" said Chryssa, " they are beautiful. 
 Henry said he would bring us some next time he 
 came. Are yours fantail pigeons?" 
 
 "I guess not," said Fulvi. "What are fantail 
 pigeons ?" 
 
CHRYS3A AND HER COUSIN. 219 
 
 " They've got such queer tails," said Chryssa, — 
 " they stretch them out just like a fan. I saw 
 some at Mr. Grandin's. O I wish you'd been 
 here ! We saw some silk-worms too ; but I'll 
 show you my cocoon. And Aunt Esther says 
 that maybe we'll go to Cleaveland while you're 
 here, and then we'll have such fine times !" 
 
 "Where is Cleaveland?" said Fulvia, whose 
 imagination could hardly keep up with Chryssa's 
 rapid stream of delights, past, present, and future. 
 
 " My grandmother lives there," said Chryssa, 
 " and it's a beautiful place, and she's got a great 
 many shells." 
 
 " So have I," said Fulvia. " Fve got a box full. 
 A man who'd been in a ship a great way off, 
 picked them up, and he gave them to me. I've 
 got some coral too." 
 
 "Fve got a coral necklace," said Chryssa. 
 " Now shall we go feed the chickens ? — O no, 
 it'll be too wet. But we can kneel in the chairs 
 by the window, and I'll show you where the 
 coops are. I'll go, and you come when you are 
 ready." 
 
220 CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 
 
 " I'm all ready now," said Fulvi. 
 
 " Bat you haven't said your prayers yet," said 
 Chryssa stopping short. 
 
 " No" — said Fulvia. " I don't always, — some- 
 times I do and sometimes I forget it." 
 
 " Well, but you don't forget it now," said 
 Chryssa. 
 
 " No," said Fulvia. " come ! — I don't want 
 to wait now." 
 
 " But you do want a great many other things," 
 said Chryssa. " You want to be well, and to 
 have a pleasant day, and you don't want to say 
 or do anything naughty. I think it's very dis- 
 agreeable to feel naughty, don't you ? And Aunt 
 Esther says we can't help it unless God helps 
 us." 
 
 And leaving Fulvi half persuaded of the benefits 
 of saying her prayers at least when she didn't 
 forget it, Chryssa went down stairs and waited 
 for her in the parlour window. 
 
 After breakfast Mr. and Mrs. Salisbury arrived, 
 and as they had come to spend the day the 
 horse was taken out of the gig and put to re- 
 
CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 221 
 
 fresh himself in the stable, and the gig was left 
 under the willow tree. 
 
 When Chryssa had told all the news about the 
 bantams, and had eaten several pears from her 
 grandmother's basket, she drew Fulvia out of the 
 room. 
 
 " Come," she said, " now we'll go and sit in 
 the gig." 
 
 " But I'm afraid of the horses," said Fulvi. 
 
 " Why there aren't any horses there," said 
 Chryssa, — " there never was but one to begin 
 with." 
 
 " I saw three in the stable," said Fulvi. 
 
 " But the gig isn't in the stable — I mean 
 grandpapa's gig, down under the willow tree." 
 
 So they ran to the willow tree and clambered 
 into the gig. 
 
 Whoever has seen this little vehicle with no 
 horse attached, will remember that the shafts 
 rest upon the ground, so that the seat is in any- 
 thing but a horizontal position ; and this gig 
 was just like all others. It tilted up behind in 
 the most remarkable manner, and why the chil- 
 
222 CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 
 
 dren liked to stay there is a mystery, but like 
 it they did ; and though they slipped and slid 
 off the seat, while the smooth oil-cloth on the 
 floor kept their feet slipping and sliding as well — 
 there they stayed ; and talked and jumped ill and 
 out until dinner was ready. 
 
 " Where have you been all the morning ?" said 
 Mr. Salisbury as the two children came in with 
 glowing and happy faces, — "hunting chickens or 
 choking the cat?" 
 
 "0 no grandpapa," said Chryssa, " we have 
 been playing in the gig." 
 
 " In the gig ! why child I shouldn't think you 
 could stay there two minutes. You couldn't sit 
 on the seat, I'm positive." 
 
 " yes we did," said Chryssa. "At least 
 sometimes we stood up, but sometimes we sat 
 down too." 
 
 After dinner the children played in the garret 
 for a while, and by the time they were tired of 
 dolls and swinging, Mrs. Rutherford gave them 
 each a string of blue and a string of red beads, 
 which she had just found in her drawer. 
 
CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 223 
 
 Here was work enough for the rest of the 
 day. The strings were immediately cut, and then 
 began the business of restringing. It was not 
 easy to get the right sort of needle, for one that 
 was large enough for the thread was too large 
 for the beads ; and many were the wishes ex- 
 pressed for a horse hair, which Sybil said would 
 go through any beads that ever were heard of. 
 But this difficulty was got over and the work 
 went on swimmingly. The beads were strung and 
 restrung in all sorts of fancy patterns, — two blue 
 and one red, and two red and one blue, or five 
 red and three blue, or a blue necklace with red 
 stars. Then Chryssa concluded that she preferred 
 simplicity, and her beads were left in one long 
 string of two and two ; while Fulvia chose the 
 still simpler style of one and one. 
 
 Then Chryssa's string broke and the beads 
 went rolling over the floor, several of them watch- 
 ing their opportunity to slip into a mouse-hole or 
 a crack, so that Chryssa could by no means get 
 them all again. And then Fulvi very generously 
 offered to give Chryssa some of hers, which 
 
224 CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 
 
 Chryssa would not hear of ; and when they were 
 at last all in order again, Sybil came and pro- 
 posed that they should make some earrings for 
 Miss Jenkins. Then little short pieces of thread 
 were filled with beads and tied so as to make a 
 loop ; and several of these loops fastened together 
 made the earring. The great difficulty was how 
 they should be worn, for Miss Jenkins had no 
 very perceptible ears, but Sybil undertook to 
 manage that ; and when she had thrust a crooked 
 pin into each side of the doll's head, where ber 
 ears ought to have been, the bead loops hung 
 on there well enough, and Miss Jenkins was 
 adorned, — at least the children thought so. 
 
 "What shall we do now?" said Fulvia when 
 tea was over, and Mr. and Mrs. Salisbury had 
 gone. "We must do something Chryssa, because 
 I don't want to get sleepy. Mamma would make 
 me go right to bed." 
 
 " I'd just as leave go to bed as not," said 
 Chryssa. 
 
 " But you mustn't go till I do. Let's sit down 
 in the corner and you tell me a fairy-tale." 
 
CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 225 
 
 "0 1 don't know any," said Chryssa. " Sybil 
 knows a great many, and she tells them to me 
 sometimes. But she won't come now — she's read- 
 ing. I know some hymns." 
 
 " So do I," said Fulvia, " and I know some 
 little poetry stories. Come you begin." 
 
 " No you must begin," said Chryssa stroking 
 her frock off her lap with great satisfaction. 
 
 "Well I'll begin then," said Fulvi. "It's a 
 story about a little cat and a bird's nest." 
 
 " that must be beautiful," said Chryssa. 
 " Who taught it to you ?" 
 
 " My cousin, and she said it was all true 
 
 " Pussy ! pussy ! mischievous cat I 
 What in the world would you be at f 
 Ah come away 
 Pussy, I pray ! 
 
 "A bird in that hawthorn has her nest; 
 See what a flutter is in her breast! 
 Poor little thing, 
 She fears your spring. 
 
 " The fruit of many an hour's toil 
 Tour little savage paw would spoil. 
 Leave it alone 
 Till the young are flown. 
 10* 
 
226 CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN. 
 
 '• For pussy, you have enough to eat — 
 Plenty of other food just as sweet. 
 It's a shame to kill 
 When you've had your fill. 
 
 " Tis not of much use to talk to a cat,— 
 A very few mornings after that 
 The nest was torn, 
 The old bird forlorn." 
 
 " What is forlorn V said Chryssa. 
 
 " Mamma said it meant that the bird hadn't 
 anything left in the world that she cared about." 
 
 " Why, did the cat eat all the young birds ?" 
 said Chryssa. 
 
 " Yes, every one of them." 
 
 " I hope my cat won't do so," said Chryssa 
 thoughtfully. "0 I think that's perfectly beau- 
 tiful /" 
 
 " It's perfectly time to go to bed," said Mrs. 
 Lee coming up to their corner. 
 
 " but mamma," said Fulvi, " Chryssa hasn't 
 said her hymn yet." 
 
 " Well she may say it now then, and I'll hear 
 it too." 
 
 " I don't know which to choose," said Chryssa, 
 " but I Vpose you'd like them all." 
 
CHRYSSA AND HER COUSIN 227 
 
 '' I think when I read that sweet story of old, 
 When Jesus was here among men, 
 How he called little children as lambs to his fold, 
 I should like to have been with him then. 
 
 ' I wish that his hands had been placed on my head, 
 
 That his arms had been thrown around me, 
 That I might have seen his kind look, when he said, 
 'Let the little ones come unto me.' 
 
 ' Yet still to his footstool in prayer I may go, 
 
 And ask for a share in his love; 
 And if I thus earnestly seek him below, 
 I shall see him and hear him above: 
 
 ' In that beautiful place he has gone to prepare 
 For all who are washed and forgiven; 
 And many dear children are gathering there, 
 ' For of such is the kingdom of heaven.' " 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 GOING A PLEASURING. 
 
 rjlHEY went to Cleaveland. Mrs. Lee and Mrs. 
 Rutherford on the back seat of the carriage. 
 Sybil and Mr. Rutherford on the front, while the 
 no-particular seat between each two was well 
 filled by Fulvi and Chryssa. 
 
GOING A PLEASURING. 229 
 
 A beautiful day it was, with a clear north 
 wind and fast-driving white clouds ; the trees 
 bending and swaying and all the bonnet ribbons 
 in the carriage in a most animated flutter, and 
 Chryssa's little white Vandyke sometimes blowing 
 entirely round, — at which feat the children all 
 laughed as heartily as if it had been something 
 very funny, and quite unheard of heretofore. 
 
 Then Chryssa showed Fulvi the precise spot 
 where she had dropped her parasol, and Sybil 
 pointed out the old house where the robbers used 
 to live. The very horses seemed to catch the 
 spirit of the day, and snorted and tossed their 
 heads as if they too were going a visiting. 
 
 There was great anxiety to see who would 
 have the first glimpse of the old chimneys ; and 
 when they reached the gate, without waiting for 
 Michael to close it and remount, Mr. Rutherford 
 drove straight on to the house himself, — the 
 wheels making a delightful sound on the gravel 
 as they went. 
 
 The peacock's feather was sought immediately, 
 and found — over the old looking-glass in the par- 
 
230 GOING A PLEASURING. 
 
 lour. With that Chryssa and Fulvi amused them- 
 selves till dinner was ready. 
 
 " Where's Fulvi, Aunt Esther ?" said Chryssa, 
 who by the time her turn came to be helped had 
 discovered that her little companion was not at 
 the table. " Where's Fulvi ? I thought I saw 
 her by Aunt Eunice." 
 
 " Your aunt sent her to eat dinner in the 
 next room, because the table was so full." 
 
 " O she'll be very lonely in there all alone," 
 said Chryssa. " Mayn't I go and eat my dinner 
 in the other room too ?" 
 
 " To be sure, if you wish." 
 
 So Chryssa got down from her chair, and 
 taking the big dinner-plate (she had no mind to 
 leave that) in both hands, and it was all that 
 both could do to carry it ; she marched off to 
 join Fulvi in her temporary banishment, and they 
 eat their dinner together very contentedly. 
 
 Then they went out, and Chryssa displayed all 
 the wonders of the place ; dwelling at large upon 
 the varied and marvellous excellencies of every 
 tree and flower and shrub. Suddenly they came 
 
GOING A PLEASURING. 231 
 
 upon a little basket wagon, standing empty among 
 the trees." 
 
 " see there !" cried Fulvi, " now we can 
 ride." 
 
 " But I wonder whose it is," said Chryssa. 
 
 " I guess it's that lady's that has the baby," 
 said Fulvi — " the lady that wears such a great 
 many yellow ribbons on her cap." 
 
 " Well we'll get in, anyway," said Chryssa ; 
 " we shan't hurt the wagon if it is that lady's." 
 . "But we can't both get in," said Fulvi. 
 
 " yes we can ; you get in first and sit on 
 that seat — now curl up your feet and I'll get in. 
 Have you got room enough ?" she said when they 
 had fidgeted for a while as well as they could 
 for want of room. 
 
 " I haven't got much," said Fulvi — " I guess 
 if we were mamma's trunk now the top wouldn't 
 shut down." 
 
 Both children laughed very heartily at this 
 conceit. 
 
 "I guess it wouldn't," said Chryssa — "there'd 
 be too much in it, — two frocks and two aprons 
 
232 GOING A PLEASURING 
 
 too many. Isn't it pretty to see the trees hang 
 down all round us so ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Fulvi, " but what makes them 
 hang down ?" 
 
 "0 I don't know," said Chryssa. " How nice 
 it is here ! it won't muss our frocks much and 
 it's so pleasant. Don't you think it's a pretty 
 house ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Fulvi, " but not so pretty as 
 yours — I'd rather be there." 
 
 "0 no, it's not so pretty as ours — I s'pose no- 
 body's house is, but I like to be here though. 
 Aren't your feet very warm ?" 
 
 " Yes, and I can't move them a bit." 
 
 " Well let's get out then, and I'll show you 
 some more things. there are the hydrangeas — 
 see, they are in those boxes, and they have pink 
 flowers ; and sometimes people put stuff on the 
 ground and then the flowers are blue — no they're 
 pink — I forget which it is, but they're different 
 somehow. I think they're beautiful, don't you ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Fulvi, " are they grandmamma's ?" 
 
 " Why she isn't your grandmamma, she's mine," 
 
GOING A PLEASURING. 233 
 
 said Chryssa, quite forgetting the ownership of 
 the hydrangeas to assert her own claim to Mrs. 
 Salisbury. 
 
 " Why isn't she mine too ?" said Fulvi. 
 
 " I don't know," said Chryssa — " why she can't 
 be ! — she's mine you know." 
 
 At this clear summing up of the evidence the 
 children met Sybil, and Chryssa proposed that 
 they should visit the pigs. 
 
 " They aren't pretty," said Sybil, " I've been 
 to look at 'em, — there are no little ones but only 
 two ugly big ones. Let's go to the granary and 
 build cob houses." 
 
 And away they all ran to the granary ; and 
 with hard labour of three pair of hands they 
 had soon reared a most imposing cob edifice — 
 not perhaps like any other house that ever was 
 built, but still " very fine." 
 
 " Now if we could only set fire to it," said 
 Sybil, " it would make such a splendid blaze." 
 
 " Let's go and ask grandpapa if we may," said 
 Chryssa, and off they all ran again, out of 
 breath with eagerness and the expected confla- 
 
234 GOING A PLEASURING. 
 
 gration. But Mr. Salisbury looked grave at the 
 proposal 
 
 " Will you pay for my granary if you burn 
 it up?" lie said. 
 
 "Why no, grandpapa 1 but we don't want to 
 burn up the granary — it's only our cob house." 
 
 " Only your cob house made of my cobs," said 
 he. " Well you're welcome to 'em so far as that 
 goes. But did you never hear of one house set- 
 ting another on fire ?" 
 
 "But this is so little and the granary is so 
 big," urged the children. 
 
 "And how far is the little house from the 
 big one ? as far as I am from the window ?" 
 
 " no," said Sybil — " as far off as the man- 
 tel-piece." 
 
 " I don't think it will do," said he shaking his 
 head ; "but look round, Chryssa, and tell me what 
 you see on the table." 
 
 " I don't see anything but the tea-things, grand- 
 papa — you mean tea is ready." 
 
 " Precisely, — and that's better than cob houses 
 any day. So now we'll have tea, and to-morrow 
 
GOING A PLEASURING. 235 
 
 we'll find a substitute for the fire — we'll try some 
 water instead." 
 
 It was decided that next morning they should 
 all set off for the shell-banks. Sybil begged that 
 she might go in the coach with Mr. and Mrs. 
 Salisbury, and the rest were to go in their own 
 carriage. 
 
 The morning was beautiful, and the horses 
 were stamping at the front door at the very 
 minute for which they were ordered. Sybil pro- 
 vided herself with a book, and entered the coach 
 in a very satisfied state of mind ; and she looked 
 so particularly comfortable there, that perhaps 
 Chryssa might have begged to go in the coach 
 too, if she had not remembered Fulvi. And be- 
 sides to say truth, it was not a little doubtful 
 whether Sybil's feet would willingly give up the 
 second half of the front seat, where they had 
 immediately taken possession. However, if she 
 had more room than Chryssa, she had not so 
 much fresh air, and she could not look about so 
 well ; but probably with her book she didn't 
 care much about that. 
 
236 GOING A PLEASURING. 
 
 Chryssa cared about it and so did Fulvi : both 
 children were as wide awake as they could be, 
 watching and rejoicing in every new thing. 
 
 By degrees the country changed as they drove 
 on : meadows were lost in sand banks and the 
 road itself became sandy, so that the feet of the 
 horses sunk deep at every step. Then came the 
 sea-breeze, fresh with the smell of the salt water ; 
 and now and then the water itself could be 
 seen, far away beyond the sand banks. 
 
 " I fear the tide will be in when we get 
 there," said Mr. Rutherford, " and then we shall 
 see no oysters to-night." 
 
 " Where do oysters come from, Uncle Ruth ?" 
 said Chryssa. 
 
 " From the bottom of the water — there they 
 live and grow fat." 
 
 "But how do people know where they are?" 
 
 " Sometimes I suppose they are found by acci- 
 dent, sometimes by a search in what seem pro- 
 mising places. Often the fishermen make oyster 
 beds for themselves. What would you think of 
 planting oysters ?" 
 
GOING A PLEASURING. 231 
 
 " I should like it," said Fulvi, " for then I 
 could have just as many as I wanted." 
 
 " Yes if they didn't die," said Chryssa. " My 
 flowers die sometimes when I plant 'em." 
 
 " Planting oysters is done in a very different 
 way. The fishermen take a peculiar net, which 
 is fastened to three slender bits of iron, and 
 drag it along the bottom of the sea so that the 
 oysters are forced into it. 
 
 Then when they draw up the net, they find 
 old shells and bits of wood and stone with the 
 young oyster brood fastened to them. These 
 shells and stones the men throw into some creek 
 or arm of the sea, and there the little oysters 
 which are very, very small at first, grow and 
 fatten, and in two or three years are large 
 enough for you to eat." 
 
 " For you, Uncle Ruth" said Chryssa — " I like 
 the little ones best. But do the oysters stick 
 fast to these stones when they grow up ?" 
 
 "I cannot answer for all grown up oysters," 
 said Mr. Rutherford smiling, "but I believe they 
 are generally found holding fast to something 
 
238 GOING A PLEASURING. 
 
 solid and substantial ; and often the shells lose 
 their natural shape and take that of the rock 
 or sea plant to which they cling." 
 
 "Uncle Ruth," said Chryssa after a pause, and 
 speaking rather doubtfully, "what kind of things 
 are oysters?" 
 
 " What kind of things ? very good things ' I 
 think." 
 
 " But I mean" said Chryssa, " have they got 
 any sense — do they know anything V 
 
 "Enough for all their purposes An oyster 
 knows that he must open his shell when the tide 
 is coming in, and shut it when the tide is going 
 out. It is said too, by people who know more 
 of them than I do, that oysters are very sen- 
 sitive to sounds, smells, and light. It is certain 
 that if you sprinkle salt on one that is out of 
 water, he will immediately open his shell ; and 
 fishermen say that in clear water you can see 
 the oysters close their shells when the shadow 
 of a boat passes over them." 
 
 By this time the carriages had reached the 
 little Shell-bank hotel, and the children were 
 
GOING A PLEASURING. 239 
 
 eager to go at once to the beach to look for 
 curious things ; for Chryssa had some hope that 
 she might find more than shells. 
 
 Michael was the first person who picked up 
 anything, and his prize was an immense conch 
 shell, which he brought and presented to Chryssa ; 
 although it was not only very ugly, but as much 
 as she could well lift. Chryssa felt doubtful of 
 its being " a shell" at all ; and by Sybil's advice 
 she laid it quietly down on the sand again, so 
 soon as Michael was out of sight. 
 
 They walked about for a long time, and Mr. 
 Rutherford shewed the children a star-fish, which 
 he said was the oyster's worst enemy ; and he 
 explained to them how it clasps its rays round 
 the shell of the oyster and remains there until 
 the oyster is dead ; after which the shell opens 
 and the star-fish can eat at his leisure. 
 
 Pretty shells were not plenty, — the children 
 were fain to content themselves with a few tiny 
 clam and scallop shells — valuable for the same 
 reason as the brown bug of the locust-tree — 
 and one or two muscles which Chryssa admired 
 
240 GOING A PLEASURING. 
 
 for their fine blue colour ; and then they walked 
 back to tea and oysters. 
 
 The hotel was full, — one large room was all 
 that could be had, and in that the ladies and 
 the children bestowed themselves, while the gentle- 
 men were to sleep somewhere and somehow upon 
 sofas. This room however was well supplied with 
 beds, and among the rest there were two cots 
 for Sybil and Chryssa — who thought it a remark- 
 able piece of good fortune. Sybil especially, went 
 whisking about the room, talking and laughing 
 in a state of great excitement, and at last sprang 
 upon her cot with so much energy that " down 
 came lullaby baby and all," as the song says, — 
 Sybil and the cot lay on the floor. 
 
 Nothing was hurt however, except the cot, 
 but that was a ruin ; and there was no help 
 for it — Chryssa must give up her cot to Sybil 
 and creep into some little place in the large 
 bed. 
 
 But they were all too tired to lie awake, 
 and the first half of the night passed off very 
 quietly. Then Chryssa waked in a violent fit 
 
GOING A PLEASURING. 241 
 
 of crying, which of course aroused the rest. 
 What could be the matter ? 
 
 It was not easy to find out ; and the child's 
 grief, though unaccountable, was so very heart- 
 felt, that Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Rutherford cried 
 for sympathy. At last Chryssa found words to 
 tell that she had dreamed her father came to 
 life, and that he looked like Uncle Ruth, and 
 that he died again. 
 
 "And he said," added Chryssa bursting into 
 another fit of tears, "he said that Sybil had 
 killed him because she wouldn't study her les- 
 sons !" 
 
 It was long before Chryssa could be soothed 
 and comforted, and then she rather sobbed her- 
 self to sleep. 
 
 But the effects of the dream were pretty well 
 slept off before morning, and after another meal of 
 oysters and another walk after shells, the whole 
 party set out for home. 
 
 " I declare," said Mr. Salisbury when they 
 
 had driven a few miles, "I never thought to 
 
 speak of that bedstead ! — -however I shall be 
 11 
 
242 GOING A PLEASURING. 
 
 there again in a week or two, and the man 
 certainly tacked enough on to the proper amount 
 of his bill, to pay for two or three." 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE END OF THE SUMMER, 
 
 "TTNCLE Ruth," said Chryssa as they sat at 
 breakfast one morning about a week after 
 the Lees had taken their departure, "isn't it very 
 wrong for spiders to kill flics ?" 
 
244 THE END OF THE SUMMER. 
 
 "What did we have for dinner yesterday?" was 
 her uncle's strange reply. 
 
 "Why I don't know, Uncle Ruth — yes, you 
 said it was mutton. But then I was talking 
 about the spiders." 
 
 " And I am talking about the mutton. Do 
 you know where it comes from and how we get 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes," said Chryssa with a grave face, "I re- 
 member you told me once ;" and then after a pause 
 she added, " Ah but we must have dinner, Uncle 
 Ruth." 
 
 "And so must the spider." 
 
 " Then it's right for him to catch flies ?" 
 
 "To be sure it is — just as right as for your 
 chickens to catch grasshoppers. You never thought 
 they were doing wrong, did you ?" 
 
 "0 no," said Chryssa, "but Garret says it makes 
 'em grow fat." 
 
 " And are spiders in duty bound to keep them- 
 selves thin ?" said Mr. Rutherford laughing. " Then 
 there's your cat, Chryssa — what do you think of 
 that mouse she caught yesterday ?" 
 
THE END OF THE SUMMER. 245 
 
 "I know," said Chryssa, "and Fulvi says her 
 cousin's cat caught ever so many birds." 
 
 "And so will yours, I've no doubt." 
 
 " It's yery bad," said Chryssa, " I don't like to 
 think about it. But then Uncle Ruth I'd a great 
 deal rather see the chickens eat than the spiders, 
 — I don't like to see the flies caught — it's disa- 
 greeable." 
 
 "That is partly because you don't like the spi- 
 ders, I fancy," said Mr. Rutherford, " and don't 
 care whether they have anything to eat or not; 
 though I must confess that to see an insect caught 
 in a trap and then slain and eaten in cold blood, 
 is more disagreeable than to see it picked up and 
 swallowed at a mouthful. But what put all this 
 in your little head ?" 
 
 "Why Uncle Ruth, yesterday Sybil and I went 
 over to Mrs. Delue's, and we went up into their 
 garret to see Maria's playthings ; and Theodore 
 came up too, and he caught all the flies he could 
 find and put them into a great spider's web that 
 was up there. And Sybil said he ought not to do 
 so, and he said he ought, and that spiders wanted 
 
246 THE END OF THE SUMMER. 
 
 to eat just as much as anything else. And then 
 I "wondered whether they ought to have anything 
 to eat, and whether it was right to catch flies for 
 them." 
 
 " Spiders certainly want to eat," replied Mr. 
 Rutherford, " and they do no wrong in spinning 
 their webs and eating all they can catch ; but I 
 think we must stop there. I should be very sorry 
 to amuse myself with killing anything — even grass- 
 hoppers for the fattening of the bantams, Chryssie. 
 So we may let the spiders provide their own dinner." 
 
 " Are spiders of any use ?" said Sybil. " I 
 mean does anything eat them ?" 
 
 " Yes ; birds, and some large insects — wasps for 
 example. If you were to open the nest of a 
 kind of mason wasp, you would find a number 
 of imprisoned spiders ; put there for the young 
 grub to feed on when it is first hatched." 
 
 " Uncle Ruth," said Chryssa, " you remember 
 that great yellow spider — no, you didn't see 
 it either — but its web was so strong ! I think 
 it was stronger than the silk thread you shewed 
 me at Mr. Grandin's." 
 
THE END OF THE SUMMER. 241 
 
 "Well?" said Mr. Rutherford. 
 
 "Well, Uncle Ruth, — why don't people make 
 spiders spin for them, and let 'em be of some 
 use V 
 
 "I don't know how , one could make a spider 
 spin," said Mr. Rutherford, " but people have 
 tried the experiment of shutting them up in cages 
 and then using the silk which they spun for them- 
 selves." 
 
 " And was it good ? did it make nice things V 
 
 " Very nice things of some kinds, — such as 
 required only a short thread. But the plan 
 didn't work very well, for the spiders some- 
 times left spinning and took to eating each 
 other up." 
 
 " That's just like 'em 1" said Chryssa. " Do 
 you know Uncle Ruth, the other day I found 
 a spider's web on a currant bush, and there 
 were two yellow butterfly's wings in it ! and they 
 were all broken, too." 
 
 " ho !" said Mr. Rutherford. " So now we 
 have the source of this little jet-d'eau of indig- 
 nation against spiders. Well, to come from them 
 
248 THE END OF THE SUMMER. 
 
 to ourselves, I am going to Courtland next week, 
 and I think you had all better go along. What 
 do you say ?" 
 
 Everybody liked the plan very much, and the 
 children immediately began to make additional 
 little plans of their own. 
 
 " I'll get grandmamma to take me to town 
 and buy us each a basket," said Sybil : " we 
 must have something to carry books and every- 
 thing in." 
 
 " And Uncle Ruth" said Chryssa, " won't you 
 please to bring us home a very little candy to 
 put in our baskets ? because we might be very 
 hungry on the boat." 
 
 " And as the baskets are to carry everything 
 they must have everything to carry," said her 
 uncle smiling. "The candy shall be forthcoming, 
 Chryssie, I promise you." 
 
 This was Friday, and they were to go the 
 following Tuesday. Of course all had to be 
 busy ; at least Mrs. Rutherford had, and the 
 children were or fancied themselves equally oc- 
 cupied. 
 
THE END OF THE SUMMER. 249 
 
 That day Michael brought home a bundle, 
 and it pi'oved to be made up of sundry pair 
 of socks, striped with all the colours of the rain- 
 bow ; not up and down but round and round — 
 something like what worsted workers call chene. 
 
 " Sit down and try them on, Chryssie," said 
 Mrs. Rutherford, handing her a pair of which 
 the prevailing colours were fawn and blue. 
 
 " But they're not mine," said Chryssa. 
 
 " Do you think they would fit me ?" said Mrs. 
 Rutherford holding out her foot. "Why Chryssa 
 didn't you know that your old socks were worn 
 out ?" 
 
 Chryssa sat down on the floor without more 
 delay, and the two bare feet were quickly suc- 
 ceeded by two encased in the chene socks. 
 Chryssa curled and uncurled her toes with great 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " They're so nice !" she said ; "so soft and 
 
 warm ! I think I like this pair best — I don't 
 
 know either — there's one with pink stripes — and 
 
 another with purple. Now Aunt Esther, which 
 
 do you think's prettiest ?" 
 11* 
 
250 THE EXD OF THE SUMMER. 
 
 " I advise you not to like one better than 
 the rest," said Mrs. Rutherford smiling ; " because 
 if you preferred the blue you might not properly 
 enjoy the pink — or a recollection of the pink 
 might efface the glory of the purple." 
 
 Chryssa laughed, and pulled off the blue socks 
 that they might be marked with the others. 
 
 The baskets were got and pretty they were ; 
 both alike, of green and white wicker-work, only 
 Sybil's was somewhat the largest. This was 
 Monday ; and in the afternoon Mr. Rutherford 
 brought home a paper of candy that far ex- 
 ceeded Chryssa's modest request for " a very 
 little." 
 
 It was delightful to pack the new baskets, — 
 to expend a great deal of trouble and iugenuity 
 in making things lie close, where there was room 
 enough for them to lie as they would. 
 
 "What book shall I take, Aunt Esther?" said 
 Chryssa. 
 
 " I wouldn't take any my dear." 
 
 "But Sybil is going to — she's got 'Rose and 
 Emily' in her basket." 
 
THE END OF THE SUMMER. 251 
 
 "Well take one then, though I don't believe 
 you will read much, — take that little red book 
 that lies on your shelf — what's the name of 
 it?" 
 
 "0, my 'Grateful Tribute' — that is the very 
 thing." 
 
 " I guess I'll put this at the bottom," said 
 Chryssa, pulling out of her basket the little hand- 
 kerchief and the little bottle of Cologne and the 
 small paper of candy, — "it'll go best there." 
 
 "But then you'll have to unpack all your bas- 
 ket when you want to read," said Sybil. 
 
 " Well where shall I put it ?" said Chryssa, — 
 "if I put it on top the cover don't shut tight, 
 because the book's so square ; and besides then 
 I should have to unpack my basket to get at the 
 candy." 
 
 "I advise you to pack the basket just in the 
 way you think best," said her aunt : " consider 
 and judge for yourself." 
 
 So after a good deal of consideration and try- 
 ing, Chryssa laid the little square book at the 
 bottom, and the paper of candy upon that; while 
 
252 THE END- -Of" THE SUMMER. 
 
 the little space at one end of the basket held the 
 Cologne bottle, and the little space at the other 
 the pocket-handkerchief. And the cover shut down 
 tight, and Chryssa felt perfectly satisfied. 
 
 Then before she went to bed she put on a 
 chair every thing she would want in the morn- 
 ing ; the dress and the gloves and the clean 
 pantalettes and stockings. The last thing was to 
 set the little basket there too, as if that could 
 possibly be forgotten ! 
 
 Tuesday morning rose very dark ; which was 
 indeed no fault of the morning — for sky and 
 stars were as clear as could be — but only of 
 those people who would get up before it was 
 light. 
 
 Chryssa had no mind to be of the number, and 
 it was not until " wake up Chryssa !" had been 
 several times repeated, that she opened her eyes. 
 Then she was bolt upright and had pulled off her 
 nightcap in a moment, after which she proceeded 
 to wake up at her leisure and to ask questions ; 
 for the moving lights and figures about her were 
 somewhat bewildering. 
 
THE END OF THE SUMMER. 253 
 
 " What's the matter Aunt Esther ? does it 
 rain ? aren't we going ?" 
 
 "If you can resolve to get up," said her aunt. 
 "I shouldn't like to go and leave you in bed." 
 
 "But what makes it so dark?" 
 
 "What makes it so dark? Why because it 
 isn't light yet. The sun isn't thinking of getting 
 up any more than you are." 
 
 "It seems I am not the only person who can 
 lie abed," observed Sybil. 
 
 " Especially at four o'clock in the morning," 
 said her aunt. 
 
 Chryssa was out of bed directly. " How I like 
 to dress by candlelight !" she said. 
 
 "Yes, it's pleasant enough, once in a while," 
 said Sybil. 
 
 "Aunt Esther," said Chryssa, pausing with one 
 black shoe held ready for her foot, "have you 
 got my green shoes in the trunk ?" 
 
 " Yes, and the green shoestrings." 
 
 " Ah you needn't laugh at me — I thought 
 maybe you might forget to put 'em in, and then 
 I might want 'em." 
 
254 THE EN'D OF THE SUMMER. 
 
 Breakfast was ready before people were teady 
 to eat it, but as nobody wanted to eat a great 
 deal, they had time enough. Only of course 
 everybody got in a hurry after breakfast, — Mr. 
 Rutherford supposing they should be left, and 
 one trunk refusing to be locked ; and then 
 they were driving off very fast. Both baskets 
 were tightly grasped lest they should run 
 away, — both little faces wore a look of complete 
 satisfaction. 
 
 It was too dark to see porpoises as they 
 crossed the ferry that morning, and I don't know 
 whether people who were on a journey to Court- 
 land would have thought them worth looking at. 
 The thing most to be desired was that the boat 
 should make haste, and that the horses should 
 trot as fast as possible across the city. It was 
 all done in good time, and they were on the deck 
 of the Morpheus full ten minutes before the last 
 bell rang. 
 
 Not idle minutes those. All of the human race 
 that one could see were hurrying about in a most 
 confused state of mind : and the boat herself was 
 
THE END OF THE SUMMER. 255 
 
 puffing off steam, but in a more regular and busi- 
 ness-like fashion ; while her paddles dashed for- 
 ward and then back, and as if she were only 
 withheld by the creaking cables from starting 
 forth on her way. There was a minute of great 
 noise and bustle ■ — the cables were slipped from 
 the great wharf posts — and "Now we are off!" 
 cried Sybil, while Chryssa stood silently watching 
 how fast the wharf sailed away, and what a long 
 line of foam there was between them already. 
 Singling out one particular wave in the boat's 
 wake, she tried to keep her eye on it ; and by 
 the time she had so chosen about twenty and lost 
 them every one, Chryssa felt sure that the thing 
 was impossible. 
 
 By this time too she was tired, and wanted 
 a seat, but not one could be found, — she had 
 chosen to watch the foam, and other people had 
 chosen to take the chairs. What was to be done ? 
 Chryssa was really tired; and besides, if she stood 
 up how could she read her " Grateful Tribute," 
 or eat candy, or in fact do anything else ? and 
 to sit on Mr. Rutherford's lap was almost as bad, 
 
25G THE END OF THE SUMMER. 
 
 and the half of Sybil's stool was not very inviting 
 for there was no back to it. 
 
 "I'll go look for a chair," said Chryssa — "may- 
 be there's one standing behind somebody." 
 
 " I'm afraid there'll be somebody in it/' said 
 Mrs. Rutherford, "but you may look, if you won't 
 go out of sight." 
 
 And Chryssa looked — and looked. She picked 
 her way round about among the crowd, stepping 
 over some people's feet and other people's umbrel- 
 las ; now brought up short by a carpet bag and 
 now by an immense wicker basket. The people 
 not only had the chairs but they had the floor 
 too, and some had more chairs than one. But 
 as grown up people always think that children 
 can do without the comforts and conveniences of 
 life, no lady moved her book and parasol and no 
 gentleman his boots from one of those extra chairs 
 which Chryssa would have liked so much. 
 
 " "What do you want, my dear ?" inquired 
 another gentleman who had just come from 
 the forward deck. "What are you looking 
 for f 
 
THE END OF THE SUMMER. 257 
 
 " For a chair sir," said Chryssa ; " everybody's 
 got one but nie — I wish there was just one 
 more." 
 
 " I dare say there is one more," said the gen- 
 tleman smiling. " You haven't looked all over the 
 boat, have you ?" 
 
 "0 no sir. Aunt Esther told me not to go 
 out of sight, so I've only looked on this side and 
 a little bit on the other." 
 
 " Come with me and we will look further," said 
 the gentleman ; and after a glance towards Mrs. 
 Rutherford to make sure that she saw the pro- 
 ceeding, Chryssa followed her new acquaintance 
 very willingly. He found her a chair after a 
 very short search; not indeed an unoccupied one, 
 but as it held only part of somebody, that part 
 was dislodged with a courteous " By your leave 
 sir ;" and whether patent leather boots liked the 
 floor or no, Chryssa liked her chair and was very 
 glad of it ; though when the gentleman had car- 
 ried it and set it down for her by Mrs. Ruther- 
 ford, he hardly stayed long enough for her to 
 thank him. And there she and Sybil sat for the 
 
258 THE END OF THE SUMMER. 
 
 rest of the day, and read their books and eat 
 candy by turns. 
 
 Night found them both asleep in the Mervyn 
 hotel at Courtland. 
 
 The first two days it rained; and as they had 
 little to do within doors, Sybil proposed that 
 Chryssa should have a new book to help pass 
 away the time. But when Mr. Rutherford had 
 brought a pretty little "Vacations at home" with 
 a marbled cover and red back, a new difficulty 
 arose. 
 
 "I'll read it aloud to you, Chryssa," said Sybil. 
 
 "But I'd rather read it to myself," said 
 Chryssa. 
 
 "0 no, this is much the best way, and then 
 you see we can both read it at once." 
 
 " "Well you read it first and I'll wait," said 
 Chryssa. 
 
 "But I can't do that, because it's your book," 
 said Sybil. "I'll read it to you." 
 
 "I had a great deal rather read it to myself," 
 said Chryssa, "but you may read it aloud if you 
 want to." 
 
THE END OF TfiE SUMMER. 259 
 
 The book was a great amusement, even read 
 aloud, and when the children were tired of that 
 they amused themselves by running up and down 
 the wide hall of the hotel, but softly so as not 
 to disturb other people. 
 
 One day after it had cleared up, Chryssa was 
 playing there when the head waiter came by. 
 He had taken a great fancy to her, and now he 
 stopped and took her up in his arms and asked 
 her if she ever saw any ducks, and if she would 
 like to see some. 
 
 No, Chryssa said, she had never seen any, but 
 she would like to very much. Did they look like 
 bantams ? 
 
 Forsyth laughed, and telling her she should 
 see, he carried her down into the yard, where 
 were ever so many ducks — white and purple and 
 green and black. Chryssa thought they were 
 quite splendid. 
 
 " But what do they keep them shut up here 
 for 1" she said. " I shouldn't think they would 
 like it." 
 
 "They won't be shut up here long" said For- 
 
260 THE END OF THE SUMMER. 
 
 syth; " you'll see some of 'em on the table for 
 dinner." 
 
 " For dinner !" said Chryssa. " Are they go- 
 ing to kill all those pretty ducks ?" 
 
 " Every one of them." 
 
 Chryssa was like the little girl in the fairy- 
 tale — " she turned away her head and wished 
 herself at home," — and Forsyth took her upstairs 
 again. 
 
 "Aunt Esther!" she exclaimed as soon as she 
 reached their own room, " don't eat any ducks 
 for dinner!" 
 
 " Mayn't I eat a small piece of one duck V 
 said Mrs. Rutherford. 
 
 " no indeed you mustn't," said Chryssa, " be- 
 cause they're all running about the yard now ! 1 
 saw them ! and they looked so pretty !" 
 
 "Why where have you been, Chryssa, and 
 what is all this about ducks ? There are a 
 great many ducks running about in different 
 places." 
 
 " Forsyth took me down to see some ducks," 
 explained Chryssa, "and I liked them so much, 
 
THE END OF THE SUMMER. 261 
 
 and he said we should have them all for din- 
 ner." 
 
 "When I shall like them very much," said her 
 aunt. "Why Chryssa my dear, all the ducks you 
 ever tasted were alive once — didn't you know 
 that? Have you forgotten about the spider's din- 
 ner and ours?" 
 
 "No," said Chryssa, "but these ducks were so 
 pretty, and I never saw any before, and they had 
 such bright eyes. I wouldn't eat one for any- 
 thing." 
 
 " Well maybe we shall not have a chance to- 
 day, after all," said her aunt. 
 
 And whatever was the reason, no ducks ap- 
 peared on the dinner-table, and Chryssa certainly 
 enjoyed her dinner the more for their absence. 
 With the dessert came on large dishes of fine 
 plums, and a gentleman near Mrs. Rutherford 
 took a purple one and a white one and offered 
 them to Chryssa. But whether she thought she 
 had had her share already, or whether some of 
 the fear with which she regarded the gentleman 
 was transferred to the plums, I don't know ; but 
 
262 THE END OF THE SUMMER. 
 
 she steadily refused to take them, and even 
 put her face down in her aunt's lap for very- 
 shyness. Thereupon the plums were offered to 
 Sybil, who took them at once ; and then Chryssa 
 began to think she had been very foolish, as 
 there is no doubt she had. 
 
 " Chryssa," said Sybil that evening after tea, 
 "I've got a letter for you in my basket." 
 
 " A letter for me ?" said Chryssa, " why who 
 can it be from ?" 
 
 "It's from Cupid Grey," said Sybil, "who lives 
 at the sign of the hearth-rug." 
 
 "Why she isn't grey," said Chryssa when they 
 had both laughed for about ten minutes ; " her 
 name ought to be White." 
 
 "No, it's Grey," said Sybil; "Cupid Grey and 
 Bessie White." 
 
 "But where did you get the letter?" said 
 Chryssa. 
 
 " Never mind," said Sybil ; "I got it — some- 
 where. Now sit still and I'll read it to you." 
 
 " It looks just like your writing !" said Chryssa 
 peering over to look at the letter. 
 
THE END OF THE SUMMER. 263 
 
 "Hush!" said Sybil. "Of coarse if anybody 
 taught the cats to write I did. Now Chryssa sit 
 still !" 
 
 So Chryssa sat still, only her eyes sparkled 
 very much as Sybil read. 
 
 "My much loved friend, what makes you stay 
 So long from home and me away? 
 It makes my heart with sorrow burn — 
 I fear that you will ne'er return. 
 I have but one friend left, and she 
 Is busy oft, nor thinks of me, 
 Why aren't you here to plead my cause 
 Against the rigorous dairy laws ? 
 To shelter me beneath your chair; 
 And when you can't protect me there, 
 Out of the window quick to throw, 
 Or make me to the garret go? 
 About the barn there are strange cats, 
 Who make sad havoc of the rats; 
 So that when I go over there 
 I cannot even get my share. 
 And mice are scarce, and things in feather 
 Are thought too precious altogether, 
 For cats to eat. Upon my word, 
 One day I caught a tiny bird; 
 But scarce had I my prey half shaken, 
 When from me it was roughly taken ! 
 A chicken then I thought to try — 
 But Biddy on me had her eye, 
 And quick before I was aware 
 Her namesake screamed, and she was Umra! 
 
264 THE EN'D OF THE SUMMER. 
 
 your tender heart it would have grieved 
 To see the blows that I received. 
 But I of woes will say no more, 
 Though of them I've a plenteous store. 
 Baneath the honeysuckle bush I lie, 
 And think of you, and watch the sky; 
 And wash my face, and smell the clover, 
 And take the sunshine in all over. 
 With every breeze my hairs now float, 
 And soon I'll have a bran new coat ; 
 My eyes are as the gooseberry green, 
 And redder nose was never seen. 
 Writing so long has tired my paw, 
 And scarcely can I move a claw. 
 Come back again my head to tap — 
 To let me rest upon your lap, — 
 To help me when all angry get, — 
 Come back once more to see your pet. 
 Hoping my note may not prove stupid, 
 I sign myself, 
 
 Votje Little Cdtid. 
 
 "Why that's splendid!" said Chryssa, when she 
 could stop laughing and clapping her hands. 
 "But Bess ought to have written too." 
 
 "0," said Sybil, "Bess's letter was private 
 and confidential." 
 
 A week had. been spent at Courtland in walk- 
 ing and driving and visiting and sight-seeing, and 
 then one afternoon the family drove to the boat 
 and set out for their own home ; and Sybil began 
 
THE END OF THE SUMMER. 265 
 
 to long for her pet books again, and Chryssa 
 began to long for her chickens and kitten ; and 
 to wonder how she conld have been so glad to 
 leave them. 
 
 THE END.