THE HERB WITCH
Miles are always longer when you travel them than when you talk
of them. For this reason, as well as for the fact that Anne had
miscalculated the distance, the up-grade road to Pine Ridge seemed
endless.
When they had travelled less than half the way, Anne’s cyclometer said
two miles, and Miss Letty’s wheel began to bump and act badly. She
stopped to find the cause, thinking that the front tire needed blowing
up; but to her dismay she found that it was hopelessly punctured by a
bent horse-shoe nail!
Anne tried to mend it with some plaster from her tool kit; but it was
old, dry, and would not stick. If they turned back, the road home would
be even longer than to keep on; so, after a long consultation, held
under a sign-post that offered no consolation, as the bridge on the
cross-road to which it pointed was known to be up, they agreed that
there was nothing to be done but to keep on and lead the wheel, Elsa
Willoughby and Anne offering to walk to hear Miss Letty company; the
others to ride ahead and explain the delay.
“Such a stupid accident!” said Miss Letty, who felt very badly at
upsetting the plan of a swift downhill ride home, even though she was
in no way to blame.
“I’ll tell you what we can do,” said Anne, brightening up, as the
party was about to divide. “Instead of going up around the Ridge
to the turnpike, we can cut straight across the fields. There is a
little blacksmith’s shop at the mill corner where they do all sorts of
tinkering for the farmers that go by to town, and I’m positive I’ve
seen a sign ‘Bicycles repaired’ on the tree. There are bars that we can
let down in crossing lots and that dead tree back on the hilltop will
do for a guide-post, for I saw it from the other side this morning as
we came up. Then it stood about halfway between the roads.”
This seemed the most sensible thing to do; and though of course the
country was strange both to Miss Letty and the Willoughbys, they had
entire confidence in Anne. So the bars were dropped, and the party
trooped through and crossed the field diagonally, keeping the dead tree
on the hilltop well in front of them.
“I don’t see any bars in that fence yonder, but it’s old and
tumble-down, and we can easily lift the wheels over,” said Anne, who
was beginning to feel the responsibility of what she had undertaken.
When they reached the fence, however, a new difficulty presented
itself--the old rails and posts were meshed in and out with barbed
wire, rusty, and formidable as the quills of an angry porcupine.
“It is certain that we can neither crawl over, under, or through that,”
said Elsa Willoughby, speaking decidedly, and evidently feeling rather
bored.
“We must follow the fence south,” said Anne, cheerfully; “it ends
somewhere, you know.”
For ten or fifteen minutes they went on without speaking. It is not
easy to walk through uneven, briery fields, much less to lead bicycles.
“The dead tree is behind us, now,” said Miss Letty, stopping suddenly;
“and ought we not to come to the river? We must cross it before we
reach the turnpike.”
“I wonder if there is any bridge here in the fields where there is no
road?” said Martica, rather sarcastically.
“Oh, look at those black clouds!” cried Louise, “They have whirled
about and are coming directly toward us.”
Then for the first time Anne realized that not only was she uncertain
of her whereabouts, but that they were likely to be overtaken by the
fury of a summer storm; for the clouds were followed by a yellow
underscud whose meaning she well understood.
“At most we can only get a wetting,” said Miss Letty, putting her arm
around Anne; her sunny disposition conquering her feeling of alarm,
when she saw her friend’s distress. “I’m sure that I heard a dog bark,
too; and if there is a dog near by, there must be a house.”
“Here is the end of the barbed wire fence,” called Anne, who had been
hurrying ahead; “and a pent lane leads from it. As this is the inside
end, if we follow it, we must get somewhere; for there are ever so
many roads like these that run from the turnpike into back lots and
woodlands. I think we would all better keep in the middle of the lane
away from the trees,” she added, as a flash of lightning almost dazzled
her. “Father says it is always best to keep in the open if you are out
in a storm.”
“Do you know where you are going, or are we lost?” asked Elsa
Willoughby, shortly.
“If we had kept on the road, Miss Jule would find us, for she will
surely send back for us when she sees the storm coming; but here no one
will know where we are,” said Martica, wrenching herself free from a
strong catbrier vine.
“I’m trying to go toward the turnpike,” replied Anne, in a shaking
voice, “but--” Before she could finish they heard the bark again, this
time close ahead; but it had a tired, discouraged sound, and was not at
all aggressive.
“I see him,” said Miss Letty, joyfully; “it’s a collie, too. There must
be a farm somewhere near.”
As they reached the dog it stopped its feeble barking, but did not move.
“Don’t go near him, he may bite,” cried Louise; and the four
Willoughbys huddled close to a big chestnut tree in spite of Anne’s
warning.
“Something is the matter with that dog. I wonder what it can be,”
said Anne, half to herself, as she walked slowly up to him, talking
familiarly as she would to Waddles or any friendly fourfoot, Miss Letty
following her closely.
“I see! One hind foot is caught in a fox trap, and--yes, he has broken
the chain and tried to get away, only to have it caught on a stump
again, and he is weak with hunger. Poor fellow, we will take the trap
off, and perhaps you will be so good as to take us home with you.”
“Poor fellow,” seemed to have a bad opinion of people, and to doubt
their intentions; for he drew back his upper lip, showing his teeth,
and then seeming to be utterly exhausted, sank down upon the ground
with a pitiful whine.
“I will hold his collar if you can unsnap the trap,” said Anne, turning
a white, determined face to Miss Letty; while the others protested that
if he was freed, they should all be bitten.
“Push down the spring and put your foot on the grip crosswise,”
continued Anne, “and I will pull out the paw. What if poor little Jill
was caught this way and starved to death.”
Miss Letty made two efforts before she succeeded. Fortunately the
bone was not broken, though the flesh was cut and bruised. As the
collie gave a sigh of relief, Anne ventured to rub the paw gently
with the tips of her fingers, to start the blood in circulation again.
This eased the poor animal so much that he licked her fingers, and,
scrambling to his feet, began to limp painfully away down the lane.
“Stack your wheels under that chestnut tree,” said Anne, in a tone of
command that gave the others courage, “and we will follow this dog. We
can easily send for the wheels, and no one will steal them here.”
The lane soon became wider and more open, which was encouraging; but
this also gave them a better view of the lurid sky, and did not show
the stream that they must cross before they reached the highroad.
“There is a hen and some chickens under that shed and where these are
there are usually people near,” said Miss Letty, peering over the
vine-tangled wall.
“There is a house,” cried Anne, at the very moment that the squall
struck the bushes beyond and launched a shower of raindrops so squarely
in her eyes that she was blinded for a moment.
A house it surely was, and doubtless at one time substantial, but now
scarcely more than a house in name; for the tops of the tall chimney
were crumbling, half the window-panes were broken, and one side sash
was wholly missing.
Still the jumble of red day-lilies, bluebells, and trumpet-vine in the
pathless garden made it look cheerful, and any shelter was welcome.
[Illustration]
“We must have been going round in a circle,” said Anne, as she fumbled
with a rusty iron hoop that held the gate fast. “The dead tree is in
front again, and this must be the old house that the Herb Witch lived
in before she went to the town farm.”
As Anne opened the gate, the collie, who for the moment had been
forgotten, slipped past, and hobbling across the yard scratched at the
side door.
“There must be some one living here, then,” said Anne, and following
the dog she knocked twice, briskly. There was no answer, though she
was sure that she heard footsteps, and a light puff of smoke from the
least tumble-down chimney told that the house was inhabited.
Anne began to feel very uncomfortable, and Elsa Willoughby whispered,
“Suppose this is a tramp’s camp?” A perfectly natural remark, but one
that was not comforting.
[Illustration]
The collie scratched again, and then gave two sharp barks. Instantly
there was a quick tapping sound inside, as of a stick on the floor, the
door opened in with a bang, a weak hinge giving way at the pull, while
a gaunt female figure leaning on a crutch clasped the dog in her arms,
hugging him and crying: “My laddie, my laddie, and I thought they had
taken ye, when ye stayed agone three nights, and when I heard the shot
this noon I thought they had killed ye certy.”--It was the Herb Witch
herself!
* * * * *
A flash and crash followed by a gust of rain made Anne step forward,
and as quickly as possible ask for shelter. When the woman saw the
party, her face grew rigid again and, for a moment, it seemed as if she
would close the door; then she changed her mind, and opening it as wide
as the broken hinge would allow, said, “Walk in, leddies.”
The door opened directly into a low, square room. At first it was so
dark that the girls could distinguish nothing, then as their eyes
became accustomed to the dimness, a few chairs, a table, and a small
stove set in the wide, open fireplace, were outlined. The room was bare
and poor, but very clean.
The old woman, after feeding the dog from a pot that was on the hearth,
returned, and stood by the window, the dog behind her, after motioning
her guests to be seated; but she did not speak, or ask a question as
to from whence they came, or whither they were bound. She might have
been accustomed to have six girls come every day, for any surprise she
showed. The silence became embarrassing, until Anne, partly to break
it, and partly because the chairs fell short, sat down on the floor by
the collie, and began to talk to him, and through him to his mistress,
in her coaxing way that no one could withstand.
“Tell your missy where we found you, and how the wicked trap pinched
your foot,” she crooned, scratching him under his chin until he rolled
over on his back with a contentedly foolish expression.
“And did yer find him trapped, and loose him, little leddie? I didn’t
mind his foot was hurt, my eyes are so poor and farsome.” Her speech
was fascinating, wholly unlike the harsh country dialect; and yet only
now and then did she use a Scotch phrase.
Thus encouraged, Anne told the story of the day’s adventures,
punctuated now and then by promptings from the others, until she had
said really more than she intended, and the old woman knew that her
guests had heard at least one side of the tale of her misfortune.
Then the sight of young faces around her seemed to warm her lonely
heart and loosen her tongue.
“Yes,” she said presently, but with no trace of complaint in her voice,
“the place was sold a month gone to pay the taxes. The same being law
and justice, I’ll not complain. And I by rights would be gone as well,
but for Laddie here; and as it is, I’m but a trespasser.
“I’d to deal with but the few chicks you saw out yonder, a sick pup,
and an old cow that pastures behind on--the Lord forgive me!--what’s
mine no longer; when the night before the day I was to go yonder,”
pointing north to where the poor farm lay, “Laddie, he disappeared.
“I’d not paid his tax, and so the law was against him. Leastway, the
bit I’d saved to pay it was made way with by the lad I sent it to the
town clerk by, and I’d no way to earn more--the lameness being too hard
for me to pick and peddle berries down the turnpike. What with that
fear before me, and knowing he’d taken a chick a week agone from some
one, being sore tempted to find meat, I was worried in deed and truth.
If he’s dead, said I, his troubles be over; but if held in bond, and
breaking loose he comes home, and me away, he’ll just pine away and
starve, slow and pitiful.
“But noo,” she continued, trying to make her voice sound cheery, “he’s
come, and to the favour of your loosing him I’m minded to ask another.
As you know dogs’ ways, little leddie, will ye take him with ye, and
give him his keep his life out? It’ll not be long, for he’s turning
ten, and has’na had a full stomach these last years. Will ye, leddie?
I’m sorrowful not to gi’ him free o’ the tax, but it’s the first and
last favour Jane Carr asks o’ any one. Ye will. God bless you, child!
Now to-morrow the old ‘Herb Witch’ will move on.”
It was all Anne could do to keep from breaking down and crying aloud.
Miss Letty did not even try, and Elsa Willoughby wiped her eyes
hastily, forgetting that she had used her handkerchief that morning to
cleanse her paint-brushes. So interested had they all been that an hour
passed unnoticed, and with it the storm.
“But,”--stammered Anne, trying to steady her voice, “where is the sick
puppy? Don’t you want us to take that too?”
“You’d best take it, certy; but it’s not mine, and you may likely
seek out the owner, for it’s a well-favoured little hussy, and
affectionsome, though flighty, if I make no mistake. Ten days back
Laddie came in barking and making signs for me to follow, for he has
speech, has Laddie, or I mistake.”
“So has Waddles,” said Anne, sympathetically.
“Weel, I hobbled down the lane length to where the old fence lies
that’s bound with that fearsome wire.”
“We know that fence,” said the girls, so completely in chorus that a
smile actually wrinkled the old woman’s features.
“A rod farther down Laddie led me, and then stood still. Before him was
a little animal meshed in the wire. I thought it a rabbit; next I saw
it was a pup that like had been chased by a wild cat,--oh, yes, there’s
a few here yet,--and held by the barbs. I unloosed the pup, Laddie
a-givin’ me orders all the while.”
“Just like Waddles,” ejaculated Anne again.
“I took the wee thing home and washed its wounds with herbs I well
know the worth of, and now it hardly shows a scar. I’ve kept it close,
mostly in the bedroom yonder, for fear those who bear me ill might say
I stole it, and lay hands on it and keep it from its lawful owners, and
work me worse ill, for it’s as fine a little she beagle as ever my eyes
lit on, and I’ve seen many in the old land.”
“Beagle,” said Anne and Miss Letty together, as Jane Carr threw open
the door of a small room which was nearly filled by a large bed
with a blue and white spread. Upon this bed, with her head resting
comfortably on the only pillow, lay Jill Waddles!
Anne fell upon Jill and hugged her, for it was a relief to feel
that the little creature had not starved to death, in spite of her
ungrateful behaviour. But Jill merely yawned, jumped down from the bed,
ambled about prettily with her head on one side, but retired under the
old woman’s skirt when Anne tried to take her up.
“She has adopted Mrs. Carr,” said Miss Letty, laughing, while the old
woman stood amazed, saying, “Weel, weel, the ways and freaks o’ she
animals is yet to be accounted.”
Explanations followed. “You see that I owe you two weeks’ board for
her,” said Anne, gaily, “and that will pay Laddies’ license, so he will
be a free gift.”
“But she sha’n’t leave, she sha’n’t lose the dog,” she added, under her
breath, to Miss Letty, who answered, “Of course not, if we can only
manage to keep her here a few days longer to gain time, so that we can
tell Miss Jule.”
“I have it,” said Anne, and then turning she said: “Will you kindly
stay here until day after to-morrow, to please me, Mrs. Carr? Then
father and I will drive up in the morning and take Jill home. I know
Mr. Hugh, who has bought the land, he’s a very particular friend of
mine and Waddles’s, and I’ll tell him that I asked you.”
Mrs. Carr was only too glad of an honourable day’s reprieve. Then, as
the sun almost at setting, shone through the window, Anne opened the
door and said that they must get their wheels and go on, for she had
been so excited by what had passed that she was now doubly anxious lest
those at home should worry.
“Leddies, would ye--” began Mrs. Carr, hesitating, “would ye drink a
cup of tea with me before ye go? It’ll not take a minute, and it’s
likely the last time I’ll be offer’n it to company,” she added with
grim humour.
Anne accepted the invitation promptly with her fine breeding, not
giving the Willoughbys a chance to demur. A brush fire was burning in
the stove, and Anne saw by the heap of faggots outside how the woods
had been kept clear of underbrush.
The Herb Witch opened a narrow cupboard by the chimney and, as she did
so, they caught sight of a dozen or so bits of old Lowestoft china, a
tea-pot, cream pitcher, caddy, and half a dozen cups and saucers.
“How beautiful!” exclaimed Martica Willoughby, who “collected.” “Do you
know that those are valuable? Why don’t you sell them?” she continued
indiscreetly.
Miss Letty declared afterward that the Herb Witch suddenly grew so tall
that she thought that her head would bump against the ceiling, as she
answered: “Those same are my self-respect. When I’ve been tormented to
beg and ask favours, I opened that door and looked at the bits that
come from afar with me, and I minded those I came from, and whose will
I crossed to my hurt. If ye sell your self-respect, leddy, that’s to be
the real pauper,” and poor Martica forgot her college-bred sufficiency
for once, and mumbled an apology.
Quickly the tea was drawn, only Anne noticing that it was the last in
the caddy, and the sugar the last in the bowl, and Mrs. Carr taking a
small loaf from a stone jar cut it in thin slices and spread them with
wild plum jam, from the same closet where there still remained a few
pots. “I’m out of butter, as it haps,” she said dryly.
The tea was delicious and every one enjoyed it heartily. Anne was
standing by the door with a second “jamwich,” as she always called the
combination, in her hand when wheels came up the lane, a horse stopped
suddenly, and a figure sprang from the runabout, vaulted over the
rickety gate that the rain had made still more difficult to open, and
strode up the walk. It was Mr. Hugh, and he wore what Anne had always
called his “would-like-to-break-something” expression.
It flashed through her brain that he was either vexed at finding the
Herb Witch still in the house, or that he blamed her in some way for
their detention. She never knew exactly why she did it, but the moment
he reached the door and opened his lips to speak she thrust the bit of
bread and jam between his lips, calling gaily: “You are just in time,
it’s perfectly delicious, and the very last piece, too. Please, Mrs.
Carr, do you think that you could coax one more cup of tea from that
duck of a pot? It’s Mr. Hugh, you know, and he’s come to look for us.”
Astonished as he was and gagged with bread and jam, Mr. Hugh’s anxiety
and anger disappeared at the same moment, for both he and Miss Jule,
who had driven completely around the circuit without finding the party,
feared they might have tried to cross the river at the disabled bridge
which had disappeared altogether at the rush of the suddenly swollen
stream, and his turning into the lane at all had been quite an accident.
Instantly there was a confusion of tongues, and poor Mr. Hugh’s brain
whirled as he heard the words: “punctured tire,” “across the fields,”
“horrid barbed wire fence,” “dead tree that kept moving,” “Laddie in
trap,” “license money stolen,” “dear old china,” “such delicious tea,”
“saved Jill Waddles from starving to death,” “thunder and lightning,”
“chestnut tree,” etc., each sentence coming from a different person.
Nor was his bewilderment lessened by the sight of the Witch herself,
leaning on her crutch by the chimney closet, dignified and silent, the
very reverse of the whining beggar, half lunatic, half tramp, that she
had been represented.
His first idea was to relieve Miss Jule’s mind and get the girls
safely home, his second was to apologize to Mrs. Carr for his evident
misunderstanding and abrupt entrance.
“You can tell me all about it on the way home,” he said to the group at
large. “Elsa, your mother is nearly frantic about you all; fortunately
Miss Jule expected to keep Anne at the Hill Farm all night, so her
mother knows nothing about the matter.
[Illustration: _The Herb Witch._]
“The wheels are up under that chestnut? Very well, we will ask Mrs.
Carr to keep the lame one until it can be called for to-morrow; its
owner will have to drive with me, and the rest ride, at least, as far
as the blacksmith’s on the turnpike, for it will be dark before I can
send the horses back here. Whose wheel was disabled?”
“Miss Letty’s,” said Martica Willoughby, “and I should think she would
be thankful to drive home, for it was hard enough for us to lead our
wheels through all that stubble; but her front tire was so flat she
almost had to carry hers.”
Miss Letty got into the runabout without more ado, having the tact
not to make a fuss, and offer to ride Martica’s wheel. Mr. Hugh bowed
pleasantly to Mrs. Carr, who came to the gate, drawing her cloak about
her,--the same one that Anne remembered,--and led the way down the
lane, crossing the river, which was narrow and swift just there, a
couple of hundred feet west of the house.
When they reached the highway they held a short consultation, and it
was agreed the cyclists should lead home. As they were about to start
Anne cried, “Look!” and waved her handkerchief toward the rising ground
around which the lane had curved. There, upon the stubbly hillside,
with her crutch before her and Laddie by her side, sat Mrs. Carr,
watching them on their way, her witchlike hood pointing toward the sky,
but a weary sort of smile upon her wan face, while behind her, against
the distant horizon, was the dead tree still in front of them.
“I wish you would have that old tree cut down, Mr. Hugh,” laughed
Anne over her shoulder, as she shot ahead; “it’s in the middle of
everywhere, and like Robin Hood’s barn, you go round and round it, but
you never get there.”
* * * * *
Mr. Hugh and his companion drove along for a while in silence, then
Miss Letty, forgetting herself, said half aloud, “I wonder what led you
into that lane?”
“Geese,” said Mr. Hugh, at which astonishing remark they both laughed,
and the ice began to melt as he explained it by saying that as he
was hurrying along the highway, a flock of geese suddenly waddled
across the road a few feet ahead with much hissing and flapping of
wings, whereat Artful, his horse, being full of good spirits and oats,
shied to the right, and made a bolt down the lane, which his driver
had not even noticed. Being once there he recognized it as the north
boundary of his new land, forgot that it did not run from road to road,
remembered the old house which he thought empty, and took the stray
chance of the girls having taken a short cut. “All of which proves that
accidents are sometimes lucky things,” he added.
“I wish my accident might bring some luck to Mrs. Carr,” said Miss
Letty, simply, and then she told the story of the afternoon, her
musical voice giving it pathos, and as she wholly forgot herself, a
little foreign accent crept in her speech that made it more appealing.
“I certainly won’t turn her out, I give you my word for that,” said
Mr. Hugh, earnestly, “I’ve tried time and again to see her. How can we
handle her? Her pride and the old tea caddy will not feed and clothe
her, and the house is only fit for bats.” Mr. Hugh had a warm heart,
but he was very practical.
“I could manage the clothes, I think,” said Miss Letty, shyly. “I’ve
got plenty of pocket money, for there is nothing to buy about here; the
bonbons are atrocious--all made of glue. I could ask her to make me jam
in exchange. You see she makes four kinds from wild fruit, and I adore
jam.” In some things Letty was younger than Anne.
“But when you have finished your visit and gone back to France, what
about her clothes then?” persisted Mr. Hugh, not realizing that he was
teasing her.
“I forgot,” was all she said, but her head drooped, for Miss Letty was
warm-hearted, but not altogether practical; but few people are at
eighteen.
In a moment, however, she redeemed herself by saying suddenly, looking
ahead as if speaking of something she saw, “I have it, Miss Elsa said
that you were going to build a small house somewhere on the new land,
where you and your friends could build a fire in cold weather, and cook
supper or have afternoon tea, and that you would keep a man in it to
protect the game.”
“Yes, I’m going to build at once, for every bird and flower will be
killed or carried away if I do not take care; but if the land is
protected, I am more than willing to have the villagers use it for
their outings, say two days a week in summer time.”
“The very thing,” continued Letty, growing more earnest, “cut through
the lane from road to road, and make a new street in Dogtown, then put
a gate in the middle; that will be by the Herb Witch’s old house. Make
the house warm and snug, clear out the old garden paths, and then use
it for a gate-house. Let the game protector man live there as company
for Mrs. Carr, and make her the gate-keeper. In France the gate-keepers
at many estates are the old women. Then such pay as you may give her
can be eked out by allowing her to sell tea and bread, jam and cookies
to the picnickers, and she can always cook your supper when you wish.
That kitchen with the wide chimney would make a charming room. I can
see it now with blue and white paper and dark furniture. She would be
independent too, poor soul. You know what Anne said about the dead tree
and Robin Hood’s barn? Bien--let us call the house _Robin Hood’s Inn_,
because it sheltered us when we were on the way to nowhere.”
“Good work,” cried Mr. Hugh, clapping his hands so enthusiastically
that he nearly dropped the reins, and Artful took another skirmish.
“If all is satisfactory when I go up there to-morrow I will begin work
next Monday. Do you know, I’m awfully obliged to you, Miss Letty. I’m a
slow fellow for thinking out things, and two heads are better than one,
though this idea came from only one, and that’s yours. Hullo, where are
we going?” For in their eagerness they had passed the Hill Farm and
were spinning down hill.
When they had turned back, Miss Jule met them at the gate, saying,
“All’s well that ends well; but I was afraid just now that Artful was
running away.”
“Oh, no,” said Mr. Hugh, “we were having a most interesting
conversation, and if you will ask me in to tea you shall pass upon our
scheme.”
“I’m sorry you had to ride home with the Great Bear,” said Anne,
innocently, as they went upstairs to get ready for supper. “I love to
drive with Mr. Hugh, he is teaching me the names of all the rocks.”
“There are bears and bears,” replied Miss Letty, smiling to herself in
the mirror. “Also geese that make good guide-posts.”
[Illustration]