"'GOOD EVENING, LITTLE MAID,' SHE SAID, PLEASANTLY.""'GOOD EVENING, LITTLE MAID,' SHE SAID, PLEASANTLY."
Sally swallowed hard, and scarcely lifting her eyes, she replied, in a frightened voice:
"Yes, Mistress Kent, I want to get learning."
"That is praiseworthy," said Mistress Maria, "and have any arrangements been made bywhich you can enter upon the duties and privileges of a youthful scholar?"
Sally had told herself on the way that she must be brave, and so, scarcely understanding or even knowing what Mistress Kent had said, she began with a good show of courage for so timid and untaught a child:
"There is no one to help me, Mistress, I must help myself, but I can do things if I try. I have set my heart on getting learning, which I shall! I have no money but about fourpence-ha'penny a week for darning stockings, but I have skill with the needle somewhat. If I could clean, or weed, or sew, my work should be well done. Could I sew for you or your mother, Mistress Kent, or do any kind of work that would pay for learning to read and write and spell? For learn I shall!"
Sally was on the point of crying out loud as she finished her speech, so very hard had it been for her to make it, yet glad and half surprised she was, that, without stopping, the whole story had been told.
Mistress Kent was silent for a time after Sally had spoken. She was thinking to herself:
"This is something new. Here is a little maid ten or eleven years of age, who, all by herself, has come to my door, saying that learning she wants and must have, and will gladly pay for it what she can with her own small hands."
But the Mistress had to be wise and prudent. The children who came to her school were well taught and well reared, came of proud parents who paid well for their schooling, and would never let their little people associate with children of the poorer classes.
They were all well dressed, carefully washed and combed, wore fine stockings and tasteful shoes, and had high notions already in their own proud little heads.
So Mistress Kent, who had a good, kind heart under her stiff waist, was quiet so long a time that Sally raised her eyes and saw a look of trouble on the face of the schoolmistress. Shewas looking far off on the distant fields, and was surely trying to think something out. At length she said, slowly and distinctly:
"It would not be best, little maiden, for you to enter the classes with other young persons of your age, for they would be too far beyond you in their studies. Nor can I feel it would do to enter you with A, B, C scholars, for they would be much younger, and smaller in stature than yourself.
"But I like not to send away either lad or maid who desires greatly to learn. Twice a week, I go a few miles to pay a short visit to a sister who is lame; if then you will come promptly of a Wednesday and Saturday afternoon, when school does not keep, and look gently after my aged mother, and also do a little plain sewing,—for I like not that the hands should be idle,—I will on other evenings of the week lend you books and faithfully teach you to read well, write, and spell."
Sally almost forgot her fear and cried out, "Oh, thank you, thank you, good MistressKent! I will indeed take good care of the aged mother, and do the sewing with a careful eye."
And then, as if unable to help it, she ran forward and put a kiss on the teacher's thin neck.
The spinster flushed rosy red and said, in a voice that trembled:
"There, there, child, that will do, be not overmuch thankful for what it pleaseth me to do, but come on Wednesday of next week, and we will proceed to help each other."
Sally wandered toward home as if in a dream. For, lo! so easily had she already found a way to learn. And perfectly happy she would have been, had not a voice said grimly within her:
"But you have not yet reckoned with Mistress Cory Ann Brace!"
It was then Thursday, and nearly a week would Sally have in which to settle matters. And the next Saturday, after cleaning kitchen, steps, and shed with much care, she said to Mistress Cory Ann that twice a week she had the chance to go to Mistress Kent of the dameschool in the afternoon to do her some service, and that evenings she was to be taught by the schoolmistress.
Then it was that Mistress Cory Ann blazed forth, and poor Sally felt her hopes dying down under her wrath. Indeed! had she not seen the slicking up, the rigging and the putting about to make herself fine? Not a step should she go to Mistress Kent to be taught book-learning!
"Have I not clothed and fed you, ungrateful girl," she cried, "but off you must go making a smart lady of yourself, and getting notions that will fit you neither to do one thing nor another? Was it seeing that young macaroni of a boy start off in all his glory to cram his head with book stuff that set you up to wanting the same thing yourself? Get the notion out again, then, quick! Not a word more of this nonsense about Mistress Kent and her teachings. If you disobey, off you go to the Town House, and there stay until you are eighteen."
Oh, dreadful! Sally said not another word;she only moped about as if heart-broken. She did not go over to Ingleside after supper, but went across to the pines, and throwing herself face downward on the moss, as she had done once before when her ignorance first appeared before her, she cried and cried until again she fell asleep.
Sally had slept but a little while when something hit her arm, which was stretched out, and lifting her head, she heard a startled cry.
"Lorr de massy, chile! You nearly scare de bref outen my body!" and there was Mammy Leezer, whose staff had touched her arm before the old woman saw her from the side of a tree.
It took but a look or two to see Sally's swollen eyes and flushed cheeks.
"Now what a-matter, honey?" asked the soothing old voice. "I come over here in de woods fo' some big burdock leaves I knew was here, and I soaks dem in winegar fo' to quiet de mis'ry in my bones. But what grieve you? Tell ole Mammy all 'bout it."
Sally shivered with a sob that came beforeshe could keep it back, then she simply said that she had wanted to study, and some one was willing to teach her, but that Mistress Brace would not allow it.
Mammy put on the cunning look that meant a good deal.
"Oh, now doan't go bursting yo' poor lil heart over dat," she crooned, "p'raps yous'll be gettin' de schoolin' after all."
"You don't know Mistress Brace," said Sally, with a sad little smile.
"No, I doan't berry much," said Mammy, in a voice that swelled, "but I might be gettin' to knowin' her better one o' dese days." And she hobbled away, a broad grin on her round face.
When beyond Shady Path, Mammy was delighted to see Mistress Brace striding along, a market basket on her arm.
Now Mammy knew not the first thing about the money that Sally's father had left for his little girl. But she did know that he had boarded in a nice house at Jamestown Cornerswhen Mistress Brace lived there, that he had appeared to have plenty of money, and that his little girl wore the nicest of clothes.
All this she heard long ago from a colored woman who lived at Jamestown Corners, and would sometimes stop at the quarters at Ingleside.
The dark woman had shaken her head in dismal fashion after Mistress Brace removed first to the Flats, and then to Slipside Row, keeping the child with her, and she would say:
"I wonder whar Mars' Dukeen's money all go to, for he had money, shor!"
This rushed into Mammy's mind as Mistress Brace drew near, but she said in her sweet singsong:
"Good evening, mistis, whar de lil one to-night?"
"Who, Sally?" asked Mistress Cory Ann, eying Mammy with a hard, sidelong glance, "I'm sure I don't know where she is."
"Le's see," began Mammy, standing still, "didn' some one say she were goin' to de dameschool or sumpin o' that kind? Seems to me I heerd it somewhar. And she oughter go, too! Her pappy—I know all 'bout her pappy—he meant his lil girl should have learnin' with de best, and oh, de gracious me! such tings as happens to folks as cheats chillern outen their schoolin'!"
Mammy looked around with a fearful air as she added:
"Why, if ennybody try to keep dat young Mars' Lion from learnin' all he want to, de plagues and de torments that come upon dem!"
She went muttering away, leaving Mistress Cory Ann wishing that she was on the ocean with her "Mars' Lion." But for all that, her words sunk into Mistress Brace's mind and troubled her, nor could she forget them.
Yet two afternoons of the week she determined Sally should not have. But she said to her the next morning that, after thinking things over, she would spare her one afternoon a week, but it must be whenever it was most convenient.
To her surprise Sally replied that she mustgo on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, or not at all.
"Then it's not at all you'll go!" cried the angry mistress, "and remember, the Town House is not far away!"
"What will you do now?" asked her good Fairy, when Sally was alone.
"I do not quite know," Sally made reply, "I must think it out."
When Wednesday came Sally went to her attic room after dinner, but Mistress Brace took no notice of it. So very quiet had been Maid Sally during the few days past that Mistress Cory Ann thought all had been given up as to books and schooling.
But now Sally put on the print dress, coaxed down her shining hair, put on her shoes, and slipping out without a word to Mistress Brace, she started for the home of the schoolmistress.
She never forgot the pleasure of that first afternoon at the pretty cottage. A canary-bird was trilling songs in a cage hung out on the porch. In the sitting-room, the old mothergreeted her from her high-backed, cushioned rocking-chair. The old dame used fine language, and the books, pictures, and solid furniture, everything simple but nice, seemed in a way to belong to the world that Sally herself belonged to.
"You see you don't know just who you are," whispered her Fairy, "but do not mind that, all may be known in good time."
But when Mistress Kent returned from her sister's, and the mother said that Sally had been a good, likely child, and had given her a seed-cake,—Sally was afraid to go home.
So she wandered about, ate the seed-cake for her supper, then, seeing the gate open that led to Parson Kendall's orchard, she peeped in, noticing a wide, rustic chair under a broad tree.
"I wonder if that might be a comfortable chair to rest in awhile," murmured the child, and just to try it she slipped along the green.
Yes, the back came high above her head, and as she sat wondering how she should ever go toSlipside Row and meet Mistress Cory Ann, she slid off to Dreamland, her pretty head drooping to one side, her rosy lips parted.
Then as it grew later, but was still quite light, good Parson Kendall walked out in his orchard, and in his walk stopped before the rustic seat under the branching tree.
"What a personable child it is!" he muttered. "Some youthful wayfarer well tired out. I wonder who she may be? I know not her countenance at all."
When Sally opened her eyes, oh! oh! oh! there stood the parson, in black coat, black waistcoat, black knee-breeches, black stockings, and sober face.
Little people were much afraid of the parson in those days, and in fact he was held in high respect, if not some fear, by people all, and Sally would almost have fallen from the chair in fright, only that Parson Kendall's voice was soft and kind, as he asked:
"Prithee, little one, where is thy home, and art thou very tired?"
"Speak up!" cried her Fairy, "tell the truth."
"I was afraid to go home, sir," said Sally.
"Hast thou done wrong, my child?"
"I meant not to do wrong," said Sally, "but I ran away."
"Ah, how was that? Tell me the truth about it."
And trembling in every limb, with eyes cast down, poor little Sally stammered out the whole story: her longing, her determination, her fine chance, Mistress Brace's refusal to let her go, and now her fear of returning home.
"I will go with thee to Slipside Row," said the parson, "and do not fear, thou shalt not suffer in any way."
And now again, had Sally been a well-taught child, she would have known how mean a thing it was to listen to what might be said in the keeping-room. But when the parson said to Mistress Cory Ann, "I would have speech with thee, Mistress Brace," up crept Sally to a room over the keeping-room, and lying flat on thefloor, with her ear to a large crack under the window, she could hear nearly all that was said.
Sally had been surprised at the many low curtseys Mistress Cory Ann made when the parson came up to the door, and at the look of fear that had come over her face. Yes, Mistress Brace had indeed looked afraid!
Now Sally heard Parson Kendall say:
"But had you any right to make of the child almost a servant when she was left so sadly alone?"
"It was that or the Town House," said Mistress Brace, shortly.
"Perhaps not," said the parson's calm, firm voice; "our town sendeth not all to the Town House who are poor or unfortunate. Had her father no friends? And was there no money left?"
"I know nothing of her father's friends," said Mistress Brace, "and as to money, very little there was of that, and it has been spent on the girl."
Ah, but the woman's voice had trembled when she spoke of the money, and her face grew very red, so that the parson, knowing something must be wrong, said, sternly:
"I had better lay the case before the burgesses. If the little wench so greatly desireth knowledge, then knowledge she should have. It is my duty to look after an orphan child of my parish, who seemeth not to be having the chances she should have."
The dreadful word "burgesses," meaning the men in power, and who governed the colonies, frightened both Mistress Brace and Maid Sally, and very glad was Sally when Mistress Cory Ann exclaimed:
"There be no need, parson, to trouble any of the burgesses! Here the girl has been, here she can stay. If she so much has set her heart on learning, then go she can to Mistress Kent and earn her schooling as the mistress has planned. But I like it not that the girl should run away, not telling me whither she was going."
"She said all was explained, but that you refused to enter into the plan," said the parson.
"I did not fully understand about it," said Mistress Brace, and so mild was her tone that Sally was again much surprised. "Let things take their course," she added, "and twice a week the girl can go where she likes and I will lay no rule against it. Then she can still help betimes."
"We will leave it that way for the present," said the parson, as he seemed to be rising to go, "but no blame is to be laid upon the child for telling what she did. I saw that she was in trouble and asked the cause. She did no wrong to answer truthfully. I shall now feel it my duty to see that the young maid hath a fair chance to learn what good Mistress Kent knoweth full well how to impart. I wish thee good day, Mistress Brace."
Sally scudded away, her eyes fairly dancing with joy.
"Fairy! O Fairy!" she cried under her breath, "a fine dream has come true! I shall goto Mistress Kent and learn! learn! learn! Blessings on thee, good parson! I would like to thank thee."
"Be wise and let not any one know what you have overheard," warned her Fairy.
"Indeed, I shall know nothing at all," laughed Sally, "until Mistress Cory Ann says to me I can go schooling twice a week;" and Sally's eyes sparkled like fire.
When Saturday came, but not until then, Mistress Cory Ann said, with a scornful toss of her head:
"Since you think it so fine a thing to dabble in books, and choose to fill your head with what others have got along plenty well without, I care not where you go this afternoon, but mind you show smartness at other times, or the twice-a-week trips will cease."
That was all, and that was enough. Sally knew now that her pet dream was to work itself out beautifully.
She had a few pence earned by mending, and at Goodman Chatfield's store she begged to knowif ninepence would buy a decent pair of stockings.
"Indeed, no, a shilling is the least that will buy stockings of any kind," said storeman Chatfield, who in very truth liked to chatter. "But I am much wanting an errand done at the Cloverlove plantation, and if you would do it, I will, with the ninepence, give a pair of hosen that will stand you well."
It was half a mile to Cloverlove plantation, and half a mile back, but Sally gladly did the errand, and ran home happy as any bird with a smart new pair of stockings tucked under her arm.
Mistress Kent was willing to confess, after a few weeks, that many bright children had come to her to be taught, but never had there come a child more swift to learn than Maid Sally Dukeen. She learned in fact as though her beautiful little ringlets held each a cell in which to hide the things she was all the time finding out.
Before the winter term of school began she could read well, and also write and spell. No need to urge attention with the little maid; the only thing needed was to hold her back.
Every evening except Wednesday and Saturday, as soon as her supper was eaten, over to Mistress Kent's raced Sally, the books the mistress had lent her under her arm, and her lessonsso perfectly learned that the good teacher wondered when she found time for so much study.
Had she peeped into Mistress Brace's house almost any day she would have known. When Sally went to bed a book was under her pillow, for there would be a little time for study before she got up in the morning. While dressing, she was busy spelling as well. And while the dishes were being washed, a book was before her on shelf or window-sill.
Sally managed to study midst the clattering of dishes and the swish of a broom. For Mistress Cory Ann thought not much of the books, and minded not how much noise she made while the poor child was conning a lesson, but she dared not stop her. Sally had found out that the parson would be her friend should trouble arise, and the parson and the burgesses were powers that Mistress Cory Ann dared not trifle with.
When it grew chilly, muddy, or it might be a little frosty, Sally bought herself a pair ofgum shoes, for with all her extra studying she yet found time for mending and darning, so earning a little all the time. She also bought a good shawl, which kept her nice and warm.
And when she said, "I need a decent hat; I wonder would the parson help me to get one," Mistress Brace bade her keep away and not go bothering the parson. Then before the next week she got for Sally a poke bonnet that was both warm and sightly.
Keen little Sally would not have gone to the parson; she was too proud to beg a single penny's worth, but she had found a new way of getting around Mistress Cory Ann since she had seen all that curtseying to the parson.
Then something else that was beautiful happened to Sally, that filled the little maid's heart with joy and gladness.
She had gone one afternoon in January, soon after the beginning of the year, to run about in the pine woods, for what with work and study she had grown tired and felt stupid.
"Go and play," cried her Fairy.
"But my books," said Sally.
"You will grow dull, and do well neither with books, needle, or other work without some time for play," cried the Fairy.
And so Sally put by her book, left her mending, and ran like a wild, free thing into the woods, that had a fresh, sweet smell to them. The air was cool and did the child good. She wandered farther and farther on, thinking it was in truth a good thing to play at times.
"Sing!" cried her Fairy, "none will hear thee, sing'st thou ever so loudly here."
Now naught has yet been said of Sally's voice. She scarcely knew she had what would be called "a voice." Often she sang at her work, but Mistress Brace would likely as not bid her be quiet and not make so great a racket.
Mistress Cory Ann liked to talk a great deal herself, and so would hush Sally's singing, which after a time made Sally think that singing was only making a troublesome noise, so she did not much of it in the house.
"Sing!" said the Fairy.
Sally stood against a tree and sang without a thought or care as to how her voice might sound. The notes rang out clear and strong, for she sang as would a bird. And over and again she sang a few sweet verses she had learned from hearing young Mistress Rosamond Earlscourt practising them with her lute in the summer-house.
"SALLY STOOD AGAINST A TREE AND SANG WITHOUT A THOUGHT OR CARE.""SALLY STOOD AGAINST A TREE AND SANG WITHOUT A THOUGHT OR CARE."
As she stopped, full of the joy of hearing her own young voice, she heard a little sound, and, turning around, oh! oh! there stood Master Sutcliff, the precentor, or leader of the meeting-house choir, which was made up of all such young men and maidens as could sing with melody in their voices.
Master Sutcliff was also teacher of the singing-school, to which all were welcome who could pay the regular fee, either in money, apples, fruit, or hay.
"You have a heartsome voice," said the singing master, coming closer to Sally, and speaking in his own rich bass. "A heartsome voice; how would it please you to come to the singing-schooland help lead some of the more timorous ones?"
"I do not think my mistress would allow it," said Sally, with downcast eyes.
"If she consents would'st come?" asked Master Sutcliff. "I will teach you to sing correctly, and do something toward training the voice a kind Providence hath given thee."
"Yes, I would come," said Sally, without lifting her eyes.
Off strode Master Sutcliff, but Sally could sing no more. What would Mistress Cory Ann say?
"She will not allow it," said Sally to herself.
"Wait and see," cheered her Fairy.
And it seemed that wonders would never cease now they had begun, for when Sally went about getting supper Mistress Brace said to her:
"If you would be doing some good by your screeching at tunes, Master Sutcliff has been here, and will pay me three shillings a term for letting you help at his singing-school. I toldhim I couldn't be lending you for nothing, so now, all but Saturdays your evenings will be taken up. I hope that will satisfy you."
"My dress is not fit," said Sally.
"I will see to that!" snapped Mistress Cory Ann.
And see to it she did. For she went the next day to Goodman Chatfield's store, and bought a piece of blue linsey-woolsey, which in a day or two was made into so becoming a dress, that Mistress Brace wished she had bought the green one, which was not as pretty, but which Goodman Chatfield held at a higher price.
And Master Sutcliff knew he had made a good trade, for Sally's strong young voice was true as well, and soon led right bravely the chorus of many voices. And for the maid herself it was great joy thus to sing with others, and be taught the notes that she soon learned.
One day Mistress Brace saw Parson Kendall again coming up her steps, and, curtseying as before, she bade him enter.
"I hear," said the parson, "that Master Sutcliffpays thee a quarterly sum for allowing the young maid that is in thy care to lead somewhat at the singing-school."
"Yes," said Mistress Cory Ann, "I could not let her sing for naught. I feed her, there surely should be some return."
"But she sings only at night, when a maid of her tender years had far better be in her bed. And she serves thee a large part of the day. So I think it but thy duty to use what Master Sutcliff gives thee for her use alone."
"I shall," said Mistress Brace, "and more, too, for I clothe as well as feed her."
"But not overabundantly," insisted the parson. "I met the young damsel yesterday, and I think she wore no hosen."
"She hath stockings," said Mistress Brace.
"More than one pair?"
"Perhaps not, parson."
"Then more she must have. I find that I once met the maiden's father, a well-dressed, goodly appearing man. It puzzleth me that so little should have been left for his littledaughter's needs. A gentleman he was whose image hath not faded from my mind."
Very much it vexed Mistress Brace that Parson Kendall should keep so sharp an eye on Maid Sally. And still more it troubled her that he should speak again of her father and the kind of man he seemed.
But from that time Sally had better clothes to wear and felt no shame as she went to and fro to evening lessons and to singing-school.
And so came the springtime, the sweet springtime, and there was beauty everywhere. On the porch at Ingleside the honeysuckle and climbing roses were bursting into radiant bloom. The birds began nesting in the magnolias and the white-belled halesia-trees.
Sandpipers went scudding along down by the water, and the mountain holly began putting on a new dress. The pink azalea, or swamp pink, violets, buttercups, and all kinds of meadow beauties began peeping up all around.
So smart a scholar had Sally shown herself, that Mistress Kent would gladly have takenher into her classes, but the proud Virginia matrons who sent their richly clothed children to the dame school would still have thought Sally too poorly dressed a little maid to sit beside their dainty little darlings.
Sally was beginning to add, subtract, divide, and multiply. And when the school closed for the summer and Mistress Kent lent her a simple history to read, she was wild with delight that she would still have a book near by.
And much as Sally hated to give up her lessons for a few months, there was a bird singing in her heart, singing a song of which poor Sally was half ashamed and yet which made her very, very glad. For in June, rich, flowery, song-bird June,hewas coming home, her Fairy Prince!
"And now I can far better understand all he reads," she said to her Fairy. Then her glad voice fell. "But I can never, never come up to him," she sighed; "there is yet a mountain of difference between us."
"You have begun to climb," said her Fairy.
"Ah, but there is proud Lady Rosamond Earlscourt, and Lady Irene Westwood, and so many other high-born damsels of his own kind, all so proud, so well-born."
"What know you of your own birth?" asked her Fairy, sharply. "How often must I ask thee?"
"I only remember the Flats and Slipside Row," said Sally's forlorn voice.
"Keep climbing," said her Fairy. "Does not something within you still urge you to climb and climb?"
"Yes, yes," cried Sally, "and climb I will!"
And now that evenings of study had stopped for awhile, Sally went again after supper to the beloved seat at Ingleside. And Lady Lucretia Grandison and Lady Rosamond Earlscourt strolled often over to the arbor and chatted gaily while their white fingers held the embroidery at which they worked continually when not reading.
Many the scarf, cape, or flowing sleeve theyworked themselves with which to deck their fair necks, shoulders, and arms.
One evening, as Sally sat dreaming on the stones, she heard Rosamond Earlscourt say:
"I must furbish up my riding-suit, for cousin Lionel will want to mount Hotspur once he is home again, and I my Lady Grace."
And Lucretia answered, "Lionel liketh best to ride alone when on Hotspur's back. Do not you remember he thought it made Hotspur impatient to have another horse beside him, and raised his temper?"
"Then there are other horses he can ride," returned Rosamond. "My beautiful Lady Grace is tired of standing in the stable, but I like not to ride alone or only with a groom for company."
These words seemed to rouse something in Sally's soul, and she cried, inwardly:
"Oh, why could not I have a 'Lady Grace,' a dear horse of my own on which to fly across the country? I could ride, I know I could, and oh, oh! I feel it within me that a fine horse, fine books, fine clothes, a fine house, all, allthat I see at Ingleside or Cloverlove, would fit into my soul!"
"Dear child," said her Fairy, pityingly, "it is hard not to have what the heart cries out for. Why not try to find out more about yourself? Have you ever questioned Mistress Brace about your father, or it might be about your mother, or what she may know of the home from whence they came?"
Sally had never thought of this before. She was now twelve years old, but the three years spent at the Flats, rather a miserable place, and now nearly four at Slipside Row, were all that she plainly remembered.
Now, seeing and hearing these people who were so far above her, had wakened that spirit or Fairy within her, which set her thinking of a better kind of life.
"Perhaps Mistress Brace has things that belonged to my parents, and that ought to be given me," murmured Sally.
"Why not ask her that, too?" said the Fairy.
"It would be no use," sighed the maiden.
It was but a few days later that Goodman Kellar banged lustily on the door, asking to see Mistress Brace. He had a fine setting of duck's eggs to sell.
Sally was in the keeping-room mending, but she called Mistress Brace down from her room. Then began a long parley about the eggs and some other produce.
Then Sally had an errand to her tiny room, and as she passed Mistress Cory Ann's door, she saw that a queer little trunk, all hair on the outside, and with rows of great brass-headed nails along the edges, was standing open by the bed.
Sally had often seen the little trunk, which was always kept under Mistress Brace's bedtightly locked. She must have made a great mistake in leaving it open, Sally thought.
She felt for a moment that it would not be quite right to take a peep inside the trunk.
"It does not seem proper," said the Fairy.
"I will take but a peep," Sally replied.
She was so afraid the good Fairy might try to stop her that she hurried over to the bed and stooped down.
Ah, what a delicate, tasteful muslin cape was folded away! And there were letters in one corner. Sally spelled them over, and thought they made a name, but if so it was a strange one. There lay a letter.
"Oh, no, no!" cried the Fairy, as Sally took it in her hands.
"I will take but a teeny-weeny peep, good Fairy," said Sally, "but I feel as though it might be as well for me to see some things that I will never be told of."
But the letter gave no light to Maid Sally. Only toward the end she read: "I have done my best, but my health is failing. Should Inot live there will be something for the one I leave." Then there was that strange name again at the very end, the same as was on the cape. Sally spelled it over and over, merely because it was so curious.
Goodman Kellar was moving away, and Sally ran softly to her room.
"Such a queer jumble of letters," she said to herself, still amused over the name, that, if it really was a name, Sally could not have pronounced. They still grouped themselves in her mind.
"Put them on paper," said her Fairy.
"I will," cried the merry maid, and with a pin she pricked the letters on a piece of paper. This she put in a box where she kept a few childish treasures, not any of them worth much.
Then came another great day that Sally knew all about. She had heard it talked of at the store, and the hired men had mentioned it.
TheBelle Virgeenwas coming up to the quay,—they called it "kee,"—and a gay company was to meet, and a fine supper to be served onthe green at Ingleside, after the proud vessel arrived, bringing back her Fairy Prince.
Sally had made up her mind not to go over by the hedge when the supper should be spread. She would be near the quay as the ship came in, and perhaps would get a look at her Fairy Prince, but something held her back from trying to see or hear anything that night at Ingleside.
"I am twelve years old now," she said to herself.
A neatly clad child watched eagerly as theBelle Virgeencame slowly sailing in. Caps flew into the air, old straw ones going high aloft, and cries and cheers went up, as strong ropes made the vessel fast to the quay.
What! was that tall young man the Fairy Prince? He was tall when he went away, but now, at seventeen, he looked almost a man as he stepped ashore and was immediately seized upon by glad, loving hands.
Again the Lady Gabrielle was not in the throng. She would greet her boy in the retirementof home, but others from the Ingleside household were on hand to give welcome.
And after a few moments a rolling figure limped forward, and Lionel held Mammy Leezer's dark hands and looked smilingly down into her face while she told how "done lonesome" she had been without her "babby."
Maid Sally did not know how she herself had grown during the year past. Her splendid hair had been brought into fluffy order, which was all that was really needed. Her face had filled out a little, and the dimples in her brown cheeks were deeper. Her chin was rounding to a finer curve, and the cleft grown more decided. Her eyes were like stars and her teeth perfect.
Dame Maria Kent had one day given her a little brush, telling her to take it to the spring each day and use it on her teeth. And Sally was surprised to see what a small brush and clean water would do for a maiden's teeth. And Sally forgot nothing she once learned in the way of a useful lesson.
The maid was changing in a way. She wasgrowing more and more shy of being seen by those she felt were above her. It was just as great a joy to catch a sight of her day-dream-Prince as it had ever been, but she would run away or hide anywhere sooner than risk meeting him or having him really see her.
One sweet morning she had gone to the pines, her beloved history in her hands. Back from the other trees, and on the other side of what had become a forest path, was a queer gnarled oak, that stood a solitary tree of its kind. And not far up was a complete seat, formed by the crossing of two large boughs. But so thick was the foliage that nimble Sally could be completely hidden, while learning her history by heart.
She was repeating again, with the usual pleasure, all about the discovery of America, when voices and hoof-beats smote upon her ear. And she sat like an image as Lionel Grandison and Rosamond Earlscourt came cantering along, their eyes bright with exercise and the horses tossing their fine manes as if enjoying the merry run as much as their riders.
"WHEN VOICES AND HOOF-BEATS SMOTE UPON HER EAR.""WHEN VOICES AND HOOF-BEATS SMOTE UPON HER EAR."
How grand and manly looked her Prince on his high mount; yet she saw at a glance that he did not ride Hotspur. And ah, how proud and handsome looked the young Lady Rosamond as, with curls flying under her high, peaked hat, she sat the Lady Grace with stately air and held her with a firm, yet easy rein. But her fair face was turned smilingly toward her tall cousin.
"She loves him," said Sally, "she loves him, and what a wonder would it be if she did not! Her own face is a goodly one, fit to be loved indeed. And how beautifully she rides. Were I a maiden of quality, how gladly and swiftly would I leap to the back of a good horse, and away, and away! Ah, I say again, I should love it, I know."
She sat dreaming after the two figures as they rode away, her young heart swelling with admiration of them both. Somewhere, way down in the depths of her soul, there was a little hurt as the winsome pair sped along the far dim road. She was too young to know just what the prick meant, but her good Fairy was at hand.
"Back to your book, Maid Sally," it said, "and sit not gazing after those who can ride of a summer's morn, wishing in your silly young heart that you too could ride. Your turn may come; who knows?"
"It was not quite that I might also ride," answered Sally, "it was—everything."
"Yes, I know," said the Fairy. "You are quick to reach for that which is beyond you. That is not strange. But keep to your studies and your singing; good things come slowly to the poor, but mind you—they may come!"
"Good Fairy, you do always hearten me," cried Sally, and back she went to her book.
But she did not forget the proud and happy face that the Lady Rosamond Earlscourt turned upon the Fairy Prince.
Then came another day long to be remembered, to be hidden in Sally's heart of hearts and kept there.
The morning broke so cool and sweet that Mistress Cory Ann had a mind to go into the town and buy meat and other things that wouldlast for several days. Butter and meat could be put on the shelf in the well, and no fear of spoiling.
After her morning's work had been cleverly done, Sally knew she could be free for a few hours. The men had gone far afield to work, taking their dinners with them, and it would be well past noon before Mistress Cory Ann would return.
Sally, from very youthful gladness of heart and joy of living, had a mind to make herself fine before going with her book to the greatly enjoyed seat in the large oak-tree.
So she went to the keeping-room, and, standing before the mirror hanging on the wall, she pinned midst her mat of ruddy-gold curls clumps of white strawberry blossoms, starry dogwood blooms, and a white rose or two.
Some time before this, Mistress Brace had seen in a peddler's pack a decent piece of white lawn, and as it was the cheapest thing he had that would make a comely gown for Sunday wear, she bought it for Sally.
The maiden sung now in the choir of a Sunday, and, because of the parson's keen eye, she must be seemingly dressed. But the gown was soiled and must soon be done up. So in a spirit of sport Sally put it on, and at breast and waist she pinned great posies of buttercups, daffy-down-dillies, and sprays of fresh green leaves. Then she started for the pine woods and the oak-tree.
The sweetness, sunshine, and melody all about so charmed her for a time that the book for once lay idly in her lap.
"Life is beautiful," she murmured.
"Yes, life is beautiful!" echoed her Fairy; "it is but right that the young should enjoy it."
"I feel so glad to-day," said Maid Sally, "I would I might always feel this way."
"You are learning," said the Fairy, "and life is getting fuller for you every day."
"Yes, life is getting fuller every day," said Maid Sally.
At last she took up her book. The sun was growing very hot, but there was a cool breeze,and the maiden in the tree was reading steadily when again there came the sound of flying hoofs. They came all too swiftly. A very demon of a horse was tearing along the road, his mane flying, his tail out straight, and his body almost to the ground. The rider could not be made out in the mad rush and whirl of the frightened animal.
It was all over in a moment. Hotspur dashed into the woods, banged in his blindness against a pine-tree, and on the instant his rider, seeing a chance to dismount, leaped from his back. But before he could reach the ground, being so near the tree, up bounded the horse just in time to hurl his young master back to the edge of the saddle, from which he fell with such force that he lay on the ground senseless, his fair hair streaming back, his blue eyes closed, while the great hunter went thundering on his way.
Sally did not cry out nor lack for nerve. The finer part of her nature came to her help, as it always will where it but exists, and shefelt the thrill of courage that is worth very much when prompt action is needed.
As she slipped from the tree the thought went through her mind:
"If he is killed, straight I must go to the great house and tell what I have seen. If he is but stunned, then must I do what I can to help him."
She bent over and could see that he was breathing. Like a flash she darted across to the house, caught up a dipper and filled it from the water-pail. Then back she sped and with hands that trembled bathed forehead and face, and dropped sprays of water into the parted lips. Then she rubbed his hands and again sprinkled his brow.
Before long the eyes unclosed and fastened dreamily on the ministering maiden. But neither spoke. The eyes remained open, and began to rove a little. Sally saw that speech would come in a moment more.
But at that instant the sound of hurrying hoofs echoed in the distance, several of them,it seemed, and like a startled deer Sally turned, and before Bill, the groom, Corniel, and Sam Spruce rushed up to the spot where lay their young master, she was panting on her seat in the oak-tree.