MISS LETTY AND HAMLET
Spring always brought many arrivals at Miss Jule’s farm, so that Anne
and Tommy found some new animal at every visit: either an awkward,
frolicsome colt, a fawn-eyed Jersey calf, or a litter of pups; for Miss
Jule was so successful in rearing healthy animals that those she could
not keep met with a ready sale everywhere.
The children went up nearly every afternoon in fine weather, riding
their bicycles all but the steepest part of the way, and having a safe
and easy coast back, for the road was broad, smooth as a floor, and
there were no cross-roads the entire length of the slope, cross-roads
being very bad things for coasters either on wheels or sleds.
Anne, however, did not care about wheeling as much as for riding
horseback. During the past two years Miss Jule’s old brown horse Fox,
though well on in his twenties, had been a safe mount for her, as well
as an intelligent companion. Of course she never rode very fast, and
was always careful to walk him down hills; as old horses, no matter
if they are thoroughbreds, sometimes kneel at the wrong time. But he
was very clever at taking narrow paths through the woods, and keeping
clear of the trees, walking up the little brook which was one of Anne’s
favourite pastimes, without pawing the water and soaking her skirt.
Anne’s father had a beautiful young horse Tom, which he both rode and
drove, but who did not like side-saddles, and did not intend wearing
one. So one day when Anne had ridden him up through the orchard pasture
to look for the cows that had gone astray, he first tried to scrape her
off by squeezing against the tree trunk, and then, when she dismounted
to see if the saddle or girths could possibly gall him, he took a roll
in the spring, saddle and all, and galloped home, leaving Anne to walk.
So Fox remained her pet, and all she had to do to make him come when
she wanted a ride was to go to the pasture, where he spent his days
luxuriously shod with rubber tips, or to the barnyard, where he was
watered, and say “Fox!” ever so softly, and he would come trotting up,
to be either petted or saddled, eager to nibble the bit of sugar,
carrot, or bunch of clover that she always brought him, putting back
his ears meanwhile in pure mischief, and pretending to bite her
fingers, while his nostrils seemed to quiver with laughter at the joke.
[Illustration]
In the middle days of this particular spring, the one that came before
the summer when Waddles and Lumberlegs had their great fight, it was
neither Fox nor the new calves that drew Anne so often to the Hilltop
Farm, but Miss Letty and Hamlet: Miss Letty being neither calf, colt,
nor puppy, but a very pretty girl, and Hamlet a worldly-wise French
poodle.
Miss Letty was the orphan niece of Miss Jule, the child of her only
brother who had lived abroad for many years, married a French lady,
and died there. Miss Letty had been sent to an English and then a
French school by another aunt, her mother’s sister; now as her father
had willed it, she had come on a visit to America, so that she might
see his country and choose with which aunt she preferred to make her
home.
When Anne heard that Miss Jule’s niece was coming to make a visit half
a year long, and that she had a pet dog, she was very much excited, for
Anne was beginning to long for a companion of her own age. She only
hoped that Waddles would like the dog visitor, and then they four could
take lovely excursions together afoot and on horseback, that is, if a
girl from a French boarding-school knew how to manage horses; if she
didn’t, of course she could ride Fox until she learned.
Anne did not know exactly how old Letty was, though of course Miss Jule
did; but she always thought and spoke of her as a schoolgirl, and told
Anne that it would be a fine chance to improve her French, and that
in return she could teach Letty about wood things, for Letty had been
brought up almost altogether in the city. So Anne wondered whether she
knew enough French to make Letty understand, and went about talking
to herself and all the animals on the place in such words as she knew,
much to the confusion and disgust of Waddles, who recognized something
familiar in the invitation to _aller à la poste_, yet did not quite
understand it as the usual invitation to “go to the post-office.”
At first Tommy had not been interested. “If it was a rather big boy
with a real gun that was coming, we could go hunting together and have
some fun next cold weather when the bunnies come out. Girls aren’t much
good excepting Anne, and even she don’t seem to care for guns either,”
he said.
Tommy’s latest treasure was a spring shot-gun that went off with
an alarming pop, but for which he had no ammunition, so as yet he
went about, cocking, aiming, and firing at imaginary big game,--real
squirrels and crows,--quite content to see them scurry away in alarm;
at the same time being careful, as his father had charged him, never to
point it at people, for this is a “mustn’t be” of a real gun, which a
boy must learn by heart before he can even dream of owning one.
When one Saturday morning Martin, who lived at the Hilltop Farm, came
with a note saying that Miss Letty and Hamlet had arrived, and that
Miss Jule would be happy to have Anne and Tommy come up to dinner,
Tommy forgot his poor opinion of girls in general and was as eager as
Anne herself.
Miss Jule kept to the country habit of a one o’clock dinner, and had a
hearty but movable tea at the end of day, when for six months of the
year one begrudges spending much time indoors. As the note came before
nine o’clock, it was too much to expect that the children should wait
until nearly dinner time before accepting the invitation.
“Of course,” said Anne, in explanation of starting at ten o’clock,
“at most places it doesn’t do to go until a few minutes before you
are asked, because the people may be busy, or making the dessert, or
not dressed; but Miss Jule is always busy, has fruit for dessert, and
is never dressed, so she’s quite as ready one time as another,” which
somewhat startling statement of Anne’s did not mean that Miss Jule was
a clothesless savage, but simply that, without the useless state of
fuss and feathers known as “being dressed,” she was always ready to
have her friends come and take her as they found her, which was usually
doing something interesting.
Waddles had an extra brushing in honour of going out to dine, for
he also had several friends at the Hilltop Kennels with whom he
exchanged very pleasant calls. In fact, they belonged to his particular
hunting-club, that admitted only the most discreet citizens of Dogtown,
and had a limited membership.
With the regular kennel dogs Waddles had only a sniffing acquaintance,
which is the same as a mere bowing acquaintance among house people. But
besides these dogs that were bought and sold, trained for hunting and
sent travelling about to shows and held trials, Miss Jule had four who
were pets and house fourfoots, even though two were rather large for
this purpose.
These were Mr. Wolf, whose registered name was Ben Uncas, a long-coated
St. Bernard, with beautiful silky hair, and a very gentle face that
belied the fact that he was a mighty hunter, who seemed to have a
little wolf blood in his veins; Quick, the most agile and impertinent
of fox terriers; Tip, a retrieving spaniel, in size between a field and
a cocker, who wore a coat of wavy golden red hair, and rivalled even
Waddles in wisdom; and Colin, an Irish setter, big for his breed, and
as clumsy and affectionate as a well-bred dog could be.
Colin could boast a Dogtown record almost as free from fighting as
Waddles, but for a different reason. He was handsome, but not over
valiant, and when some indiscretion of his aroused the ire of another
dog, Colin would immediately roll over on his back and kick his four
legs so fast that his confused opponent could get no grip whatever,
and usually found that he had urgent business on the other side of the
street.
Anne and Tommy rode up the long hill very slowly, partly because it
was rather early, and partly because they had on fresh wash suits for
the first time that season, and wash suits look best before they are
withered. At least Anne thought of this, for she had heard that Miss
Letty had money enough to buy all the pretty clothes she wished, and
likely as not she might wear muslin shirt waists and lots of pretty
ribbons. Though Anne did not bother much about her dresses, and had
not worn her best frock, lest she might wish to play, she felt more
comfortable to know that her cambric gown with its plain, turnover
collar was clean, and that her cherry-coloured hair ribbons were new
and had not been “retrieved” by the whole Waddles family in turn.
“I know it’s rather early,” said Anne, after greeting Miss Jule, who
for a wonder was sitting in idleness amid an unusual number of vases
that waited for flowers on the side porch that overlooked the prim,
old-fashioned garden; “but I thought we could see the new setter pups
if Miss Letty was busy or tired or anything; and if she wasn’t, we
could play hide-and-seek with her and Mr. Wolf and Waddles up in the
corn-field. Some of the last year’s stacks are there yet, and we can
creep into them finely. Her dog may not know how to play, and we can
teach him.”
Miss Jule gave a queer little short laugh, started to say something,
stopped with a very funny expression on her plain, jolly face, and
said: “It’s not at all too early. Letty is over there in the garden
beyond the hedge, getting me some flowers for these big jars. You can
introduce yourselves, and ask her to play hide-and-seek, only I’m
afraid that Waddles will not like Hamlet. Tip was so rude that I’ve had
to tie him up.”
Anne called Waddles, who was talking to Mr. Wolf in his day retreat
under the steps, and went down the path with Tommy, not noticing that
Mr. Wolf, Quick, and Colin were following, or that Tip joined the trio
as soon as they were past the lilac hedge, showing by his collarless
condition that he had broken jail.
[Illustration: _Miss Letty._]
As the children looked about they did not see any little girl. Ah,
yes, there was a flutter of white the other side of the bulb beds, so
they turned in that direction to find a young lady standing among
the borders, dressed in such dainty, lovely, flower-coloured clothes as
they had never seen before, at least, never in a garden. One slender
white hand hung by her side, while the other grasped the iris stalks.
They could not see her face because of the lace that drooped from her
hat, but her hair was light brown, and as fluffy as thistle-down.
Could this be the little girl companion that Anne had longed for? Her
heart fell in disappointment. Yes, it must be, for there was no one
else in the garden.
“She is a grown-up young lady, with gowns that wiggle on the ground,
and all our fun is spoilt,” said Anne, softly, checking Tommy who was
about to call out.
Tommy, however, was not so sure that he was disappointed; the pretty
girl attracted him, and he walked directly toward her. At that moment
Waddles, catching sight of a strange-looking dog, partly hidden in the
grass, gave a bark, and the face under the broad hat turned toward
them, opened its mouth and spoke, setting their doubts as to its being
Miss Letty at rest.
“This is Anne I know,” said a delightful, laughing voice, that spoke
every word distinctly, with hardly a bit of accent, and yet had an
intimate sound, “and Tommy, too. Ah, yes, I know you very well, and if
you’d not come to see me this morning, I should have called upon you
this afternoon. I suppose that dear dog with the long ears is Waddles,
come to be introduced to Hamlet,” and she raised an odd silver whistle
that hung from her belt by a chain and gave two short calls.
“Yes, we came as soon after Miss Jule sent the note as we could,” said
Tommy, collecting himself more quickly than Anne, “though mother said
dinner at one meant not to start before half-past twelve. But we didn’t
know that you were so old or could talk our way, and Anne thought she
must speak French, and she’s been muttering all the way up, though
Waddles and I didn’t like it, for we think American is good enough for
anybody. Besides, Anne said perhaps you’d like to play hide-and-seek up
in the corn-field. You see, we didn’t know you were a kind of flower
fairy.”
Then Miss Letty’s eyes met Anne’s, and they both burst into a merry
laugh that made them fast friends, while she shook hands heartily with
Tommy instead of kissing his little pug nose as she wished, which would
have offended him as being babyish.
“Certainly, I will play hide-and-seek if you will tell me precisely
what you expected to find me, Miss Anne. I think that you look
disappointed.”
“I’m not Miss, I’m only plain Anne, who used to be Tommy-Anne until six
years ago, when Tommy came; at least I’m called Anne, because I don’t
like my real name, Diana. You know so few people say it nicely, and Obi
calls it Dinah, the same as the fat coloured woman’s name who lives up
the road and launders our very best things.”
“Is your name really Diana?” cried Miss Letty, clapping her hands in
delight. “It is the name of one of my dearest friends at school, whom
I miss dreadfully, and who had dark hair and eyes like yours. I will
call your name smoothly like this, _Diane_, the French way, for it is a
pleasure to me, and then perhaps you will grow to like it; for a girl
who loves horses and dogs could not be named better.”
“Yes, Miss Letty, I think I do like it already, and I might as well
tell you that I thought you would be a girl like me, so that we could
tramp about and do things together, and take pictures when I get my
new camera, and I did think you might like to play hide-and-seek this
morning with our dogs, and teach yours how, but of course--”
“Of course I shall be charmed to play hide-and-seek, and be your
companion, even if I am very old,--quite eighteen. Come, we will begin
now as soon as I take these flowers to my aunt,” and she gathered the
iris into the skirt of her dainty gown upon which tiny violets formed
stripes that matched the iris in colour.
“_I_ shall call you ‘flower lady,’” said Tommy, decidedly, with a
sturdy expression of face that quite settled the matter as far as he
was concerned.
“Now I’m ready, but where is Hamlet?” said Letty, after she had given
Miss Jule the flowers. “Ah, here he comes, and a chance also to try
your French, Diane, for the only English word he knows is his name. Now
for hide-and-seek.”
“But surely you aren’t going to wear your best gown and slippers to
play hide-and-seek in the corn-field and woods for there are lots of
old briers and prickly things,” expostulated Anne, glancing at Miss
Jule; but as the latter went on arranging her flowers and said nothing,
Anne feared she had been rude.
“This isn’t a best gown, only a muslin--see, I can hold it up so,” and
Miss Letty threw the trailing skirt over her arm, showing an underskirt
so frail that plainly clad Anne nearly gasped in spite of herself. “And
I never wear thick shoes; in fact, I haven’t any, though they might be
useful here.”
[Illustration]
Then she turned and began chatting gayly in French to Hamlet who came
down the path, looking somewhat anxiously behind him. As a dog of his
breed Hamlet was doubtless quite perfect; but to Anne, accustomed to
the rough-and-ready citizens of Dogtown, to whom a bath and a brushing
was full dress, his costume was rather startling. His long hair, which
on his crown and shoulders hung in stringy curls like a mop, was shaved
close on the lower part of his body, with the exception of a tuft
on each hip and bands around his ankles. His clean-shaven face was
decorated by a long mustache, he wore a silver bangle collar run with
blue ribbon that hardly showed amid his curls, and a bracelet on one
ankle. At a signal from his mistress he sprang upon a low wicker stand
that served as a porch tea table, sat erect, and saluted.
Tommy was delighted, of course, and Miss Letty made him do all his
tricks, of which he knew as many as a circus dog. He waltzed, he said
his prayers, he fetched a handkerchief from Miss Letty’s room, although
he had only been in the house two days, and so on, ending by turning
three somersaults and barking like mad when Miss Letty waved her
handkerchief and cried, “Vive la Republique!”
“What do you think of Hamlet?” asked Miss Letty, throwing herself into
a hammock to get her breath. “Can Waddles do as many tricks?” she
added, rather piqued that Anne was not more enthusiastic, “and does he
always mind when you speak to him?”
“I think Hamlet is very clever. No, Waddles does not do tricks; but
he knows a great deal, and a great many things that take a great deal
of thinking out. For one thing, he knows how to take care of himself,
though I can’t say that he always minds so very well; but I am sure
that he is a more durable country dog than Hamlet.”
“Minding is everything,” said Miss Letty, decidedly; “Hamlet obeys
every word I say, and so he never really has to think for himself. Sh!
_Tais-toi!_” she cried, clapping her hands, for Hamlet having once
started to bark in honour of the French Republic had no mind to stop;
and as every one knows, who has either owned or lived next door to one,
a poodle has a voice of such piercing and incessant shrillness that
even a fence cat on a moonlight night cannot compete with it.
Hamlet would not listen, and kept on tearing round the house and
barking, until not only all the dogs in the kennels were set agog, but
the signal travelled over Dogtown and answering barks could be heard
for a mile away, while Miss Jule put her fingers in her ears and Anne
burst out laughing in spite of herself.
“He’s a little upset,” said his mistress when he was finally quiet; “he
is not used to so much space, and it’s gone to his head.”--“Come,” she
called, speaking French rapidly, “sit up and smoke your pipe to calm
yourself, and read the paper.”
Hamlet meekly mounted the stand again, while his mistress produced a
short clay pipe from her work-bag that hung by the hammock and stuck it
in his mouth, perched Miss Jule’s eyeglasses upon his nose, and held
the morning paper before him.
“No, do not look at me--read!” she said, as his eyes rolled about in a
helpless sort of fashion, “read until I stop counting.”
[Illustration]
“Now,” she said, when the lesson was over, “we will all go and play
hide-and-seek. Do you know the French for that, Anne? No? Well, it is
_câche-câche_. Come, Tommy, I will race you to the wall;” tossing her
skirt once more over her arm, Miss Letty whirled away,--muslin, lace,
openwork stockings, high-heeled slippers, and all,--Anne and Tommy
padding along after in their broad-soled shoes.
Miss Jule stopped laughing and sighed, saying to herself: “She is sunny
tempered and bright, but she has more need to learn American of Anne
than Anne has to learn French. I was afraid this morning that the farm
was too dull a place for such a dainty lady, but I believe this visit
will be the making of her. If only _something_ would happen to the
poodle. He gets on my nerves, though I can’t tell why, and I’d quite
forgotten that I had any.” This was a strange opinion to come from
Miss Jule, who was the friend of every little cur in Dogtown, and had
been known to pay the license for more than one poor body in danger of
losing a seemingly worthless pet.
* * * * *
Once in the corn-field the difference in age between Anne and Miss
Letty melted as if by magic, and they chatted away as merrily as if
they had been life-long friends. Anne, looking up to the older girl as
a beautiful and superior being, was further enthralled by finding that
she knew a great deal about the pictures that she herself loved, and
had actually once seen Rosa Bonheur, who painted the wonderful “Horse
Fair,” a coloured print of which was Anne’s chief treasure, and had
really stood beside her once when she was painting a great white bull.
To Miss Letty, on the other hand, who had never before thought that the
country was anything more than a place full of trees and grass that
was very dull to stay in for more than a week, and a dreadful place to
spoil one’s complexion, Anne’s friendship with wild things seemed like
a living fairy tale, and Anne herself a veritable brownie.
* * * * *
Waddles, Mr. Wolf, Quick, Colin, and Tip played hide-and-seek
beautifully; but Miss Letty would not let Hamlet join in the game,
because she said that his hair was too long and needed clipping, and
might get full of straws; then his feet were delicate, and the stubble
might cut them, or the briers tear his ears or pull off his bracelet.
Then, too, his hair had been freshly oiled to keep it black, after the
manner of poodles, and it would be fatal to its lustre if dirt got upon
it.
So poor Hamlet had to suffer the shame of being tied to a small tree,
in full sight of the other dogs, by one of his mistress’s violet
ribbons. He was at heart a manly, brave dog, and in no way responsible
for the caprice that makes so many of his tribe play the fool. Also
the other dogs seemed to have a contempt for his forlorn and ladylike
state, and Anne distinctly saw Tip kick dirt at him in passing, and
dignified Waddles nipped his hind leg.
As it drew near noon the trio wandered toward the wooded edge of the
field, where Anne said they would be sure to find yellow violets,
wind flowers, and spring beauties, and Miss Letty filled her hat with
them to take home to paint, and then sat down to rest with Tommy at
her feet, while Anne went farther into the wood to look for wild
sarsaparilla.
“I’m going to have you for my sweetheart,” said Tommy, suddenly, as
he stepped back with his hands behind him, contentedly surveying a
rickety-looking wreath of dogwood blossoms that he had put upon Miss
Letty’s golden hair, but which would slip down over her eyes. “I think
that you are much nicer than Pinkie Scott and Bess and Grace.”
“And who are they, pray?” said Miss Letty, peering through the wreath.
“Oh, they are the others I play with, little girls--all alike, but you
are several kinds.”
“You mustn’t say, ‘I’m going to have you,’ in such a way,” said Miss
Letty, struggling to be serious; “you must go down on your knees in the
dirt and ask me very politely.”
“No,” said Tommy, sturdily, “I won’t. I don’t mind the dirt; but if you
ask, people mostly say you mustn’t; but if you say you’re going to, you
oftener get it.”
Miss Letty looked up quite surprised at his reasoning and said: “Very
well, play I’m your sweetheart. What next?”
“Why, then I must bring you up a present every Sunday just like Baldy
does to Miss Jule’s Anna Maria. But, Miss Letty, how long will you be
my sweetheart? For ever and ever?”
“That’s _too_ long to promise, Tommy. How will until you want to give
me to some one else do?”
“First rate; just listen! those dogs must have struck a good trail down
below there; hear them yell. I guess I’ll go and see,” and he quickly
disappeared around the hill.
“I can now untie Hamlet,” called Miss Letty to Anne, going to the tree
where she had left him; but Hamlet was not there, neither was the sash
ribbon.
Miss Letty whistled and called in vain, for the barking and yelping
sounded farther and farther away on the other side of the wood, and
when she tried to follow its direction, sharp twigs and briers tore her
lacy frills, and her high heels caught in the tangled roots, until Anne
coming up grasped her arm just in time to prevent her from falling into
an old spring hole.
“There is no use in trying to follow the dogs,” said Anne, taking in
the situation at a glance; “they are across the river halfway over to
Pine Ridge by this time. I think we had better go back to Miss Jule’s,
for you look ever so warm, and you are all scratched and tattered.”
“But Hamlet, I must find him; he will be lost and never find his way
back, for he does not know the place at all. Besides, it does not agree
with him to run, and he may get himself muddy.”
“Of course he will be muddy and very likely tired, but he will be sure
to come back with the others. I think they have taken him to show him
the way about and introduce him to their friends. They are way up at
Squire Burley’s now. I hear his foxhounds baying,” she added, after
listening intently for a moment; for her keen ears knew the tones and
distinguished between the various Dogtown voices as readily as if they
belonged to human friends.
* * * * *
Miss Letty looked ruefully at the shreds hanging from her pretty frock
and then gave a little scream as she stretched out one foot and saw her
stocking. “Look, Anne! there are bugs all going through the openwork
and biting me.”
“They are not bugs” laughed Anne, kneeling to pick them off; “but about
half a dozen kinds of last year’s ‘stick tights’ and hook-on seeds;
they want your stocking to carry them off and plant them somewhere
else. Please, Miss Letty, do girls in French schools wear dancing
slippers and party gowns in the woods?”
“Schoolgirls never do. We always wore black frocks, white collars and
cuffs, and pinafores, quite like housemaids, and very seldom went
out of the big brick-walled garden except at vacation time. Then I
travelled about with tante Marie and my uncle, who always wished me to
have pretty clothes, and her maid repaired them. And when I was coming
here tante Marie said all girls in America dressed like princesses,
yes, even the children, and she bought me almost the trousseau of a
bride, for I love frou-frous; the heavy English clothes my father used
to buy quite choked me. I fear me I can never wear shoes even like
yours, Diane, and my Aunt Julie’s--positively, the soles are like a
ship’s deck.”
“It is of no use telling her, she will have to find out for herself,”
thought Anne; then looking across the field toward the house, she
exclaimed, “Why, there is Mr. Hugh, and he has a new horse.”
“Who, pray, is Mr. Hugh?” said Miss Letty, struggling over or rather
through her last fence, and leaving several yards of petticoat frill
behind. “Whoever he may be he rides well.”
“Mr. Hugh?” hesitated Anne, scarcely realizing that he should be
unknown to any one. “Why, Mr. Hugh is a very nice man, but quite old,
almost thirty. He owns all the land between Miss Jule’s and Squire
Burley’s; he’s big and dark brown, that is, his hair and eyes and
mustache are, and mostly his clothes and gaiters; and he grows dogs
and horses too, and writes books about the things that smell queer and
poison you--chemistry, you know. He has a stone house that’s as strong
as a castle, and all the furniture is plain and the chairs are leather,
for he hates all kinds of rags hanging to chairs and things like that.
He likes pictures and flowers, though, and he gave me my ‘Horse Fair’
print last birthday. He has strawberries in his cold-frame that are
nearly ripe, I saw them last week. I do believe he is bringing some
to Miss Jule now, for he has a basket. Mr. Hugh doesn’t like young
ladies, but only children and people like mother and Miss Jule. But he
will be very polite, so you needn’t be afraid of him,” she added, as
she saw Miss Letty hesitate and look as if she was going to run away.
[Illustration]
As Anne said, Mr. Hugh had brought a basket of delicious strawberries,
which Miss Jule handed over to Letty and Anne to arrange for the table,
saying, “They are so big you must leave the hulls on and lay them on
fresh leaves.”
“I will do it,” said Miss Letty, giving Anne a little push toward the
door. “I know that you are longing to see the new horse.”
This was true, and Anne finally, after some difficulty, persuaded Mr.
Hugh to accept Miss Jule’s invitation to luncheon, pleading to try the
new horse over the little hedge afterward, as Mr. Hugh said he was
broken to side-saddle, and a fine jumper.
The luncheon table looked very pretty with Letty’s flower decorations
and little vines laid on the cloth, and all went well, Mr. Hugh being
less shy than usual. When the strawberries came, they certainly looked
very tempting, lying on a bed of leaves, on green glass plates, with a
mound of sugar on the side of each to dip them in.
Miss Jule, who was near-sighted, began eating hers, and Mr. Hugh
followed in an absent-minded sort of way, for he was talking pasture
and other interesting things to his hostess.
Suddenly Anne gave a loud exclamation and then stopped, flushing
scarlet in embarrassment.
“What is it?” asked Mr. Hugh, “a bee in the berries?”
“No; but--but--the green leaves under the berries are poison ivy, and
you know you poison dreadfully and so does Miss Jule. Oh, and the vines
around the table edge are poison too. I didn’t notice at first, the
leaves are so small and young.”
“Bless me!” cried Miss Jule, rubbing her lips and finger-tips with her
handkerchief. “Run up to my medicine closet, Anne, and bring the bottle
labelled ‘Lead water and alcohol,’ and a wad of cotton. Letty, child,
you will be sure to be poisoned with all those brier scratches on your
wrists.”
“I saw the pretty, shining vine growing up those trees and over
the stone fence by the stables and I thought it was American ivy,”
stammered Miss Letty, looking ready to cry. “How can it poison us, Aunt
Julie? we haven’t eaten any.”
“It’s the juice bites your skin,” interrupted Tommy, promptly, “and
then it all blubbers up and gets wet and sticky, and you scratch and
scratch, but it doesn’t do any good.”
After Anne, whom poison ivy never harmed, had brought the antidote,
and fingers and lips were bathed, they went out under the trees, for
no one cared for the berries except Tommy, who crept into the kitchen
and washed his vigorously with soap and water, and devoured them with
relish.
“Miss Letty is my pretty sweetheart; don’t you wish she was yours?”
said Tommy to Mr. Hugh very abruptly, as he was being swung into the
wonderful Mexican saddle to try the new horse around the lawn.
“No, I don’t, Tommy; pretty people are all very well, but useful ones
with common sense are better,” was the answer.
Miss Letty, coming down the steps as the pair passed by, heard and said
to Anne, who was behind her: “I hate your Mr. Hugh. I think he is a
bear,” which remark coming out of a seeming clear sky, Anne could not
understand.
A diversion, however, was caused by the return of the dogs with much
barking and orders of “down” and “to heel,” for they were wet, muddy,
and did not smell like roses.
Mr. Wolf bore a muskrat, and Colin brought up the rear with something
that had once been a shoe, which he laid at Miss Jule’s feet, with much
tail-wagging, as if to say, “It’s merely a trifle, but better than
nothing.”
“Hamlet--is--not--with--them,” said Miss Letty, slowly, with almost a
sob in her voice.
“We will all walk up the river bank and look for him,” said Miss Jule,
cheerfully; “the dogs came back that way.”
They had only gone a couple of hundred feet up the stream when Anne,
who was ahead, called, “There he is, sitting on that rock; he must be
tired and afraid to swim over alone.”
Then, as they drew nearer, the reason for his sitting still was plain.
His heavy curls were a mat of mud, burrs, and briers that must have
made either walking or swimming nearly impossible, while the tangle
over his eyes was so dense that he could see nothing. His collar was
gone, also his bracelet, and his fluffy wristlets hung limp.
[Illustration]
At a call from his mistress, however, he half stumbled, half plunged
into the shallow stream and threw himself into her lap, and she hugged
him, thus completing the wreck of her gown, saying, “You poor, poor
boy! we are a pair, you and I, because of our clothes, and not knowing
the country.”
* * * * *
It was impossible to comb or pick the straws and burrs from Hamlet’s
coat, so next day one of the grooms clipped him close all over and
gave him a bath. When he went, meek and shivering with mortification,
to his mistress’s room, where she was sitting alone, as the poisoning
was doing its work on the scratched wrists and shell-pink ears, she
hardly recognized her pet in the lanky black dog with only a tail-tuft
left of his curls. As she did not speak, he went over to a low stool,
and putting his nose between his paws, “said his prayers,” as she had
often made him do for punishment when he had disobeyed.
Then, in spite of her misery, she burst into a hearty laugh, and bade
him go out and play with the other dogs, which he very readily did,
feeling, if antics tell anything, like a little boy who has just put
off petticoats. After his clipping Hamlet was cordially received in
Dogtown, and considered one of the boys, and whether or not his hair
was allowed to grow or if he ever again wore a scented mustache,
remains to be seen.