CHAPTER XIVTHE COUNTRY
When Mr. Ladd saw the little white head peep out, he put his head back and laughed.
“I pity the rats in your barn now, Mrs. Alder,” he shouted.
Mrs. Alder frowned at first, but when she looked at Clematis, and saw her anxious face, she smiled.
“What on earth made you bring that cat way up here?” she asked.
“She’s my own cat. I was afraid to leave her at the Home all alone. Would you like to leave your cat alone, where peoplemight throw it away while you were gone?”
Just then a tall man with a gray beard walked up.
“Never mind, Mary,” he said. “We have plenty of milk in the dairy, and plenty of rats in the barn.”
By this time Clematis had Deborah safe in her arms, and Mr. Alder led the way to the house, while Mr. Ladd drove off, laughing as he went.
“Well, you can take the cat down to the barn. I won’t have it in the house,” said Mrs. Alder.
“All right, we’ll find a place for her,” said Mr. Alder. He took Clematis by the hand, and they went down to the barn.
A gray horse poked his head from a box stall to look at the little visitor, and a little red hen called her chickens, and hastened away, clucking, as if she were very angry.
Clematis turned to look at her.
“Did you ever have any chickens?” asked Mr. Alder.
“Oh, no, I never saw any.” Clematis could not take her eyes from the little chicks, as they ran after their anxious mother.
“We have lots of things to show you here. Let’s put your cat up in the loft now.”
They went up a set of stairs, and there was a loft, full of sweet hay.
Clematis stuck one hand out
Clematis stuck one hand out
“There now, Mrs. Tabby, you will find a good bed, and good hunting here.”
“Her name isn’t Tabby, it’s Deborah,” said Clematis, as she put her down.
“Oh, that’s quite a name. It suits her very well.” Mr. Alder led the way down again.
At the other end of the barn, a red and white calf came up to meet them.
It put out its wet nose to smell the little visitor, and made her start back.
“He wants to say ‘how do’. He loves little girls,” said Mr. Alder.
Clematis stuck one hand out timidly, and pulled it back again, when the calf tried to lick it with his rough tongue.
“He wants just a little taste,” laughed Mr. Alder. “Come on now. Here is something else.”
At the end of the barn, Clematis could hear strange noises. There, in the yard, were some smooth, white animals running about.
When Clematis came near the fence, they ran and put their fore feet up, and stuck their noses out.
“Uff, uff,” they said. Then they squealed.
“Oh, I know! Those are pigs!” cried Clematis, clapping her hands.
Eight clean, white pigs were grunting and squealing for their supper.
“Squeal away, piggies,” saidMr. Alder. “Supper will be along soon.”
In a moment, he brought from the dairy a bright milk pail. Then they went down to the gate, and he called:
“Come boss, come boss. Come Betty.”
A sleek, plump cow came over the hill, and hurried down to the gate. It was just the color of a mouse.
“Dear old Betty. Steady now.” Betty pushed through, and walked fast to the barn, where she began to whisper to her calf, and lap it with her great rough tongue.
As Clematis came up, Betty put her head down, and shook her horns.
“Behave, Betty. You ought to be ashamed,” said Mr. Alder. “You see, she won’t let any strangers near her calf.”
Then he took some grain and put it in Betty’s box, while he tied her head, and sat down on the stool beside her.
Clematis had never seen a cow milked before, and stood watching the white streams which filled the foaming pail, as if Mr. Alder were a fairy. It seemed like magic.
When the pail was full, Mr. Alder poured some into a shiny can, and took the rest to the dairy.
There he poured it into a red machine, with a big bowl. Heturned the handle, and soon two streams came out.
“What is that for?” Clematis thought this might be some new magic. Indeed it was magic, almost.
“This is the separator,” answered Mr. Alder. “I pour the milk in at the top, and turn the handle. Then the cream comes out of one spout, and the skimmed milk from the other.”
“Oh, I see,” said Clematis, though it really was all like magic to her.
“Now I guess we are through. Let’s go up and see what they have for supper.”
Mr. Alder took the empty pail, and led her back to the house,where supper was ready and waiting.
The smell of hot biscuit made Clematis feel very hungry, and she was glad that supper was all ready.
With the biscuit, was golden butter, and apple sauce.
“Do you like warm milk right from the cow?” asked Mrs. Alder.
“Yes’m,” replied Clematis, with a nod.
So Mrs. Alder put a little pitcher, with a glass, not much bigger than a thimble, beside her plate.
She could pour it out herself, as often as she emptied her glass.
“Better leave room for some fresh blueberry pie, and a piece of cheese,” said Mr. Alder.
The little red hen
The little red hen
Blueberry pie and cheese, hot biscuit and fresh milk, and golden butter, all she wanted; surely, Sally never had any supper better than this.
The shadows were falling, and the August crickets were beginning their evening concert, when Clematis had eaten the last bit of pie on her plate.
“The Sand Man is coming, I do believe,” said Mr. Alder, as he reached over to pinch her cheek.
“Well, I don’t wonder, the trip was a long one for a little girl. You shall go right to bed, Clematis.”
Mrs. Alder took a lamp as she spoke, and led the little visitor to the stairs.
“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the skeeters bite.”
Mr. Alder called after her as she went up.
Clematis laughed. Her eyes were drooping, and her feet were heavy, as she climbed the stairs.
“There now, we’ll have you tucked in before a cat can say Jack Sprat,” said Mrs. Alder, as she unbuttoned her boots.
“Haven’t I got to fold my clothes?” asked Clematis, as Mrs. Alder began picking them up.
“Never mind about them tonight. Here’s a wet cloth. We’ll just have a quick wash, and into bed you go.”
The bed was soft; the pillows were softer; and the song of theevening breeze in the maple, without her open window, was softer still.
“I am in the country,” sighed Clematis. “I can hear the trees, and I can smell the flowers now. Tomorrow I will—”
I wish I could tell you what she was going to do. I can’t, for just then, she fell fast asleep.
CHAPTER XVCLEMATIS TRIES TO HELP
The birds in the maple tree woke Clematis early the next morning.
For a minute she did not know where she was. Then she hopped out of bed and ran to the window.
The sun was up. The birds were singing all about. The smell of clover and sweet grass came to her open window.
There, across the valley, lay the mountains she saw in the evening.
Now they were not blue. Shecould see the rocks and the bushes, in the morning light. But they were just as lovely as before.
“Oh,” she thought, “some day I’ll go and climb up those mountains.”
Then she washed carefully at the stand by the window, for she remembered what Miss Rose had said.
When she was dressed, she started down stairs. Then she thought again.
“I must help all I can. I guess I’ll make the bed.”
So she drew the clothes neatly over the bed, and smoothed the pillow. Then she went down.
“Good morning, Clematis,” said Mrs. Alder. “I see you getup before breakfast. Did you have a good sleep?”
“Yes’m,” replied Clematis. “Would you like me to help you?”
“No, you had better run out and see what Mr. Alder is doing. You can help me after breakfast.”
So Clematis ran out.
How loud the birds sounded in the clear air. How they chirped and twittered. How sweet the smell of the flowers, and how bright the sun.
“Oh, there’s the little red hen!” she cried. “But she has lost her chickens. Every one is gone.”
There was the little hen, sitting on the ground, near the barn door.
Just then Mr. Alder came out with a pail of milk.
“Oh, Mr. Alder, where have all the chickens gone?” cried Clematis.
He laughed. “Dear me,” he said. “I don’t see them anywhere, do you?”
“No, but they were all here last night.”
“I wonder if the rats caught them.” Mr. Alder looked very sad.
“Oh, dear, if they did, I’ll tell Deborah.”
Clematis looked as if she were ready to cry.
“Don’t cry. I’ll get a fairy to bring them back. You turn around and shut your eyes.”
He turned her around. “Now, are your eyes shut?”
“Yes.”
“Now you must say, ‘Fairy, Fairy, bring back my chicks.’”
“Fairy, Fairy, bring back my chicks,” said Clematis, laughing.
She heard the little red hen clucking behind her. Then she heard the chickens peeping.
“Turn round,” said Mr. Alder.
She opened her eyes; she turned around; and there were the chicks, running about their mother.
She was just going to cry out in surprise, when the hen lifted her wings, and two more ran out from beneath them.
“Oh, I know. She had them under her feathers all the time.”
Clematis laughed and danced about, while the red hen clucked to her chicks and walked off very angry indeed.
Mr. Alder laughed also, and picked up the pail.
“Do you see that patch of raspberries down there, just beyond the hen house?” he asked.
Clematis nodded.
“I think there are some big, late raspberries down there. Would you like to pick a few? You’ll find them good.”
“For me to eat?”
“Yes, eat all you can find. They are good for little city girls.”
“Oh, thank you.” Clematis started toward the patch of raspberries.
Then she stopped.
“I must see Deborah first,” she said. “I wonder if she caught any rats.”
“To be sure, I forgot Deborah. Give her my love.”
Mr. Alder went to separate his milk, while Clematis found Deborah sound asleep on the hay, and ready to visit the raspberry patch.
Soon the bell for breakfast rang, and Clematis ran to the house. Her lips and fingers were red with raspberries, for she had found big ones.
By her plate was her tiny glass, and a pitcher of rich milk. There were corn flakes, and shredded wheat first, and then toast, andbacon, and big baked apples with cream.
Clematis had never really expected to have such things to eat. The stories other little girls had told her, all had seemed like fairy tales.
“Now you can help me a while, if you wish,” said Mrs. Alder, after breakfast. “Can you wash dishes?”
“Oh, yes’m, I can do that all right.”
Clematis looked after Mr. Alder with longing eyes. He was going to feed the pigs. She longed to go too, but she knew she must help all she could.
So she started in on the plates and cups.
The water was hot, and she found it hard work to hold the china. Just as she was lifting a cup, it slipped from her hand.
“Snick.”
“Gracious, what was that?” asked Mrs. Alder. She thought a good deal of her china.
The cup was taken out. A piece was broken from the edge.
“Oh, dear me. I have had those cups for twenty years. I guess I’ll finish the dishes.”
Clematis said nothing, but turned very red. She almost cried, she was so ashamed.
“Well, don’t worry too much about it,” said Mrs. Alder. “You can help me with the beds. I’msure you can make your bed without doing any harm.”
“Oh, yes’m, I’ve made it already.”
“Made it already? When?”
“Why, when I got up, before breakfast.”
“Mercy! Go right up and pull the clothes back. It must always air for an hour.”
Poor Clematis went up and pulled the clothes back to air.
“How can I help, if every single thing I do is wrong?” Clematis spoke crossly out the window at the robin on the edge of the roof.
Then she felt a crumb in her pocket, and pushed up the screen to throw it out.
Mr. Robin flew away, and Mrs. Alder came in at that moment.
“Dear child, what on earth have you put up that screen for? Do you want to fill the house with flies?”
“No’m, I didn’t know—”
“Oh, well, never mind. You don’t know much, I guess. I promised to take you, and I’ll keep my word, but it’s no use trying to fit city children into real homes.”
Mrs. Alder shut the screen with a bang.
“There now, you run along out doors. I guess you and Mr. Alder will get along all right, but don’t touch anything.”
“Hello, it looks like rain.What’s the trouble, sister?”
Mr. Alder smiled and pinched her cheek, as he met Clematis at the back door.
“I tried to help,” said Clematis, drying her eyes.
“Oh, I see. You didn’t do things quite right, did you? Well, I wouldn’t fret about that. I don’t do things quite right, myself.”
Clematis smiled through her tears.
“Come on now, and help me pick some late peas for dinner. You will like that, I am sure.”
He took her hand, and soon she was happy again.
“There, you picked two quarts, and did it well, too. Now takethese up to Mrs. Alder, and tell her you can shell them out, every one, without hurting a thing.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Alder, in the kitchen. “You think you can shell peas, do you? Well, take them out under the maple tree. Then I won’t have the pods all around the kitchen.”
And Clematis proved that she could shell peas, after all.
Mrs. Alder gave her a cookie for her pay, and said she had done very well.
“I guess you’ll get along all right, if you stay out doors,” she said.
“Thanks,” said Clematis, eating the cookie as she went out. She was glad enough to stay out doors.
Clematis watched the little fishes by the shore
Clematis watched the little fishes by the shore
“I’ll help Mr. Alder all the time,” she said to herself. “I’ll feed the pigs, and the hens, and I guess he’ll be glad I’m here.”
CHAPTER XVIONLY A FEW DAYS MORE
Clematis did help Mr. Alder, and tried hard, in her way, to make herself useful.
She helped Mrs. Alder too, for she went on errands to the village every time she was asked.
Every day she went to the Post Office. She took home the letters and carried home bundles from the stores.
Clematis loved this walk, because the road ran down by Knapp’s saw mill, and by the river.
Near the stocking mill, theriver came right up to the road, and she could even see the little fish, in the clear water.
Sometimes she stopped longer than she thought, and was late getting back, but Mrs. Alder did not scold her.
“The less we expect of her, the less we shall be disappointed,” she would say.
On Sunday, they all went down to church to hear Mr. Sampson preach.
He smiled at her in his kindly way, when she went out.
“Let me see, I don’t know your name, do I?” he asked, taking her hand.
“It’s Clematis.”
“Well, Clematis, I’m glad tosee you. I hope you will come again.”
“That little girl looks just like another little girl I used to know,” he said to Mr. Alder.
“She is here for a week or two. Doctor Wyatt sent her up.” Mr. Alder whispered to him a minute, before they went away.
“How would you like to take a long walk this afternoon, Clematis?” said Mr. Alder, while she was eating her ice cream and cake.
“Oh, yes, let’s.” Clematis was glad enough. She never liked Sundays very well.
“Good, we can walk up Bean Hill, if you think you can go that far.”
She could see the little fish
She could see the little fish
“Oh, I can walk farther than that.”
So they started out, while Mrs. Alder lay down for a nap.
They didn’t go by the road, but crossed the river in a boat that Mr. Alder kept tied to the bank.
Then they walked through the trees and meadows by the path.
Clematis was full of joy. New birds sang here. New trees, and new flowers met her at each turn.
After they had walked about a mile, they came to a little cabin, set among maple trees.
“Who lives here?” asked Clematis. It looked like the cabins she had seen in her picture books.
“No one lives here now. This is where they boil down their sapin the spring. They make maple syrup, and maple sugar.”
There were the big pans, turned upside down, and the pails that caught the sap.
Her mouth watered as she thought of all the maple sugar they had made in that little cabin. She wanted to stay longer, but Mr. Alder started on.
“We must get along, I want to see Mr. Brooks before we go home.”
“Who is Mr. Brooks?”
“Mr. Brooks is a good man who lives over here on the side of Bean Hill. He lives all alone by himself.”
“Oh,” replied Clematis, “is he the man who owns the whitehouse with the vines, and has had so much sadness?”
“Yes. How did you know about him?”
“Mr. Ladd stopped near his house. He told me.”
The walk was a long one, and Clematis was glad when she saw the little cottage on the hillside.
“Here we are. There is Mr. Brooks now, working over his flowers.” Mr. Alder went over to the little garden, where a man with white hair was pulling out weeds.
“Good day, Mr. Alder. Glad enough to see you. Come up and sit on the piazza.”
Mr. Brooks smiled, as he wiped his hands.
“And here is a lady, too,” headded. “I believe I have never met her.”
He held out his hand to Clematis with a kindly smile, and led them to the piazza.
Mr. Alder told him who she was, while Clematis was looking at the neat little cottage.
A vine was growing about the door, with little white flowers, peeping out from its green leaves.
Mr. Brooks saw her looking at it.
“Do you like the flowers?” he asked.
“Yes,—it is just the same.”
“What do you mean? What is just the same?”
“Why, just the same vine as the one on the white house.”
“She saw the old home placewhen she drove over with Mr. Ladd,” said Mr. Alder. “She remembered the vine.”
“I am glad you like it. You ought to like it, Clematis, because it has your own name,” added Mr. Alder.
“Well, well, is her name Clematis?” Mr. Brooks took her on his knee and looked into her face.
“I wish I had a little girl like you,” he said.
She sat there on his knee, while he talked with Mr. Alder.
“I hope you will come again, Clematis. You will, if you get a chance, won’t you?” Mr. Brooks said, as they started to go.
He brought out a big, sweet pear, and put it into her hand.
“You can eat that on the way home,” he said.
All the way home Clematis kept thinking of Mr. Brooks, and the vine, and how he had looked into her face while she sat on his knee.
She had never known any father or mother, and people didn’t have time to hold her that way at the Home.
“Could we go again?” she asked, as they crossed the river.
“Well, perhaps. We’ll see.”
When they got home, Mrs. Alder was sitting on the back steps.
Beside her, in the grass, lay three dead chickens.
“How on earth did thosechickens get killed?” asked Mr. Alder, as he took one in his hand.
“Why on earth did that child ever bring her old cat up here? That’s what I’d like to know.” Mrs. Alder was cross.
“Did Deborah do that? Dear me! We’ll have to shut her up in the loft.”
“That’s where she is, and that’s where she’ll stay,” said Mrs. Alder. “Remember now, Clematis. Don’t you let her get out again.”
“Yes’m,” said Clematis.
She didn’t know what else to say, so she went sadly to the loft. There she found Deborah, sleeping sweetly, as if she had neverdone a thing wrong in the world.
She sat down by the open window, and looked across the river valley, and across the lake, to the mountains.
“Oh dear!” she sighed.
She heard Mrs. Alder speaking.
“I don’t care, I think the Doctor was asking a good deal of us, to keep a strange child like that.”
“Well, Mary, never mind. It is only for a few days longer. I guess we can stand it. Think of the pleasure it gives Clematis.”
Mr. Alder spoke kindly, but as Clematis heard the words, she turned pale.
“Only a few days more. Only a few days more.” The wordswent through her mind again and again.
She had never thought about going back. Two weeks seems a long, long time to little girls. Only a few days more before she must leave Tilton.
Clematis put her elbows on the window sill, and rested her chin in her hands.
The sun was setting behind the maple tree. The golden rays gleamed in the white mist that had risen from the river, for it was a cold evening.
In the distance the Belmont mountains were a deep, misty blue, and the clouds above them all white and gold.
Now all the valley was fillingwith a golden mist. The birds were singing in the trees along the banks of the river. They filled the evening air with joyous songs.
“Only a few days more. Only a few days more.”
Soon she must go back to the brick walls, and the yard with the high fence around it.
When Mr. Alder came to call Clematis for supper, her eyes were red, and her cheeks pale.
“Never mind, dear little girl,” he said. “We’ll keep Deborah shut up. I guess we can spare the chickens. We have plenty more.”
She said nothing, but went silently in for the evening meal.She had forgotten all about the chickens. All through supper the words ran in her head, and the last thing in her mind as she fell asleep was this thought:
“Only a few days more.”
CHAPTER XVIIWHERE IS CLEMATIS?
On Monday Clematis found a big, blue envelope, with the other mail.
“I guess you have a letter for your own self this time,” said Mr. Morse, as he handed her the mail.
Clematis did not stop to look at the little fishes by the shore. She hurried straight home.
It was a letter for her own self. Miss Rose sent it to her.
“Oh, I wish I had learned to read. Please read mine first, Mrs. Alder?”
“Do you think that is polite?” asked Mrs. Alder.
“No’m, but you get lots of letters.”
“That is true. Well, let us see.”
She opened the envelope, while Clematis got close to her side.
“Dear little Clematis:I hope you are well, and having a good time. I am sure you must be having a splendid time, for Tilton is a lovely place. I wish I were with you.What a naughty girl you were to take Deborah, when she was not invited. I hope Mrs. Alder has forgiven you.I am going to ask Mrs. Alderto send you home on the afternoon train Saturday, so you will be all ready when school begins.I shall be at the train to meet you. Don’t forget Deborah.Your true friend,Rose Thornton.”
“Dear little Clematis:
I hope you are well, and having a good time. I am sure you must be having a splendid time, for Tilton is a lovely place. I wish I were with you.
What a naughty girl you were to take Deborah, when she was not invited. I hope Mrs. Alder has forgiven you.
I am going to ask Mrs. Alderto send you home on the afternoon train Saturday, so you will be all ready when school begins.
I shall be at the train to meet you. Don’t forget Deborah.
Your true friend,Rose Thornton.”
Your true friend,
Rose Thornton.”
“That is a good letter for a little girl to get, I am sure. Now run out and play, while I read my letters.”
Clematis went out, rather slowly. The letter made her think again of the end of her stay, and she was sad.
But the sun was bright, the breeze was cool, and the birds sang merrily.
She saw Mr. Alder down in the garden, and ran to him.
“Can I help you, Mr. Alder?”
“I think not. I am weeding late carrots, and I think you would not know them from weeds.”
“I should know them, honestly. Just let me try a little bit.”
“Well, then, take this little trowel. Make the earth loose around them, and then pull the weeds out with your fingers.”
Clematis kneeled in the soft earth, and began to work with the trowel.
She weeded the row across from Mr. Alder, where he could see what she was doing.
“Well, I declare! You are a real gardener.” Mr. Alder pattedher shoulder, and praised her well when she had done several feet of her row.
The little green tops of the carrots all stood straight and clean. Every weed was gone, but no carrots were hurt.
“I told you I could do it. You did not believe me, did you?”
Clematis smiled happily.
“Well, I do now. I never saw any one do better.”
So the man and the little girl worked side by side beneath the August sun.
The smell of the warm earth, and the fresh growing things all around her, made Clematis breathe deeply.
She could hear the birds singing,and see the mountains, across the lakes.
While she was hard at work, she almost forgot to be sad because she was going back on the Saturday train.
“Just look at that child,” said Mrs. Alder, when they went in to wash for dinner. “Has she been weeding in her good clothes?”
“She has weeded two whole rows of carrots, I know that much. I’ll get her some new clothes when those wear out. She is as much help at weeding as a man.”
Clematis was as proud of that, as Deborah was with her first rat. In the afternoon Mrs. Alder found her a pair of small overalls. These covered her dress and kept her clean.
It was a happy child that came in at evening. She had worked steadily, in the hot sun and the breeze, and had finished all the carrots.
“You don’t know how much help that has been, Clematis,” said Mr. Alder. “It tires my back to weed carrots, and now they are all done.”
“I will weed tomorrow, too,” she said, happy with her praise.
There was plenty to do, as there always is on a farm, and Clematis was busy all day.
“I don’t see how she learns so quickly,” exclaimed Mr. Alder, when he was telling Mr. Ladd about her.
“I suppose it is because shenaturally loves it,” he answered. “It seems too bad that she couldn’t live here in the country, she seems to love it so.”
“Yes. I wish Mrs. Alder was better, and took to children more. Clematis is clumsy in the house, but out in the garden she is right at home.”
So the days went on, with sunshine and clouds, and Saturday came nearer and nearer.
“Clematis, what have you been doing to the calendar in your room?” asked Mrs. Alder, at dinner on Friday.
“I was just looking to see how many days till Saturday.”
“Well, you needn’t muss it up that way.”
Every morning Clematis had taken it down and counted the days with her fingers.
Friday evening she did not eat much supper, and was very silent.
“Longing to get back home, I guess,” said Mrs. Alder. “Well, dear, you will be back with the other children tomorrow. I know what it is. I was homesick myself when I was a child.”
Clematis did not answer. She didn’t know how to tell what it was that troubled her, so she said nothing.
The stars were bright, and the tiny moon was low in the sky, before the weary eyes closed in sleep.
Clematis had been thinking,and thinking. Tomorrow was Saturday.
Early in the morning she was awake again, by the window.
She leaned her head on her hands, and began to think again.
“That is what he said,” she repeated, half aloud.
“That is just what he said. If he didn’t mean it, why did he say it?”
At the breakfast table, Mrs. Alder noticed how pale her cheeks were.
“Try to eat some toast, dear,” said Mrs. Alder. “You will soon be home again. Only a few hours more now.”
Clematis raised her eyes, and gave Mrs. Alder a strange look.
“That child does beat all,” said Mrs. Alder, after breakfast. “She seems to be thinking a lot, but she keeps as quiet as a stone jug.”
“She is thinking; you may be sure of that,” Mr. Alder replied.
All the morning Clematis went about silently, except when she was in the loft with Deborah. Then she talked.
“I shan’t be afraid. I am a big girl, Debby, and I shan’t be a mite afraid.”
Deborah could not speak, but she snuggled up close, and purred, so Clematis knew just what she meant.
“Be sure to have all your things ready, Clematis,” called Mrs. Alder.
“We shall have an early dinner, for Mr. Ladd will be here about one o’clock to take you to the station.”
“Yes’m,” said Clematis, and she went slowly to her room.
Before long, all was ready, and dinner was on the table.
“Now, let’s eat a big dinner. I roasted a chicken especially for you.”
How good the roast chicken smelled! There were baked potatoes, and peas, and beans, too.
Clematis was hungry now. She ate, and ate, and ate.
“Good girl.” Mr. Alder patted her on the head. “Travelers must be well fed.”
“Be sure to wash all the blueberryoff your mouth,” added Mrs. Alder, as Clematis got down.
Clematis went to the sink and washed her face and hands. Then she went to the back door.
“Don’t forget Deborah’s satin dress, and velvet hat?” called Mr. Alder.
She turned and smiled back at him, as she went out.
Soon Mr. Ladd drove up.
“I came a bit early,” he said. “I’ve got some milk for the Seminary. Is Clematis ready?”
“Yes, all ready, I guess. She just went out to get her cat.”
Mrs. Alder went to the back door and called.
She waited a minute, but Clematis did not come.
She called again. No Clematis. “Please go and get her, Henry,” she said to Mr. Alder. “Tell her to come right in.”
After a few minutes Mr. Alder came back. He looked puzzled.
“Well, where is Clematis?” asked Mrs. Alder.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t know? Isn’t she in the loft?”
“No.”
“Well, perhaps she went to say goodby to the pigs.”
“She isn’t there.”
“She must be around here somewhere. She has no wings; she can’t fly.”
“I’m not so sure of that.”Mr. Alder smiled in a puzzled way at Mr. Ladd.
“That’s just like you men.”
Mrs. Alder went to the door and called as loudly as she could. Then she went to the barn and called again.
She looked all about. Mr. Alder looked all about. Mr. Ladd looked all about.
They all called once more.
It was of no use. Clematis was gone.
CHAPTER XVIIIHUNTING FOR CLEMATIS
Mr. Alder looked at Mr. Ladd. Mr. Ladd looked at Mrs. Alder. They all looked at each other.
What should they do?
“Well,” said Mrs. Alder at last, “you drive down street with Mr. Ladd and find out if any one has seen her. I will look all about the farm.”
The men had not gone far down the street when they met a boy.
“Hi, Ned! have you seen our little girl?” called Mr. Alder.
“Who, Clematis? Have you lost her?”
“No, she has lost herself. Have you seen her?”
“My gracious, no.” His blue eyes opened almost as wide as butter plates.
“Well, tell any one you see that she’s lost; that’s a good boy.”
“My gracious, I guess I will.”
Off ran little Ned Atkinson, as fast as his legs would carry him.
He told every one he met, but no one had seen Clematis.
Not far down the street Mr. Knapp came rolling out of his yard.
“Have you seen that little girl of ours, Mr. Knapp?”
“Yes, yes. I saw her. She’s a likely gal. Quite spry.”
“Where was she?” Both men spoke at once.