THE BARBED WIRE FENCE
Mr. Hugh’s promised field day with supper at Robin Hood’s Inn had, for
various reasons, been postponed so often that, as Anne remarked, “first
it was to have been a hazel-nut party, then a hunt for hickory and
chestnuts, but now both are over, so if it doesn’t happen soon, it will
have to be a skating party, which won’t be a bit of fun for the dogs.”
The delay was nobody’s fault, however, for it had taken some time to
clear the old farm and woodlots of briers and thorny bushes, so that it
was fit for people to explore either afoot or on horseback. Then Mr.
Hugh had to go away to meet some other wise chemists who also spent
their time, as Anne once said of her friend, “in mixing queer things
together that were of no use to make something that was,” and tell them
of a perfectly new smell he had discovered.
Next, Tommy had a bad sore throat, which, knowing they usually lasted a
week, he concealed for two days, though swallowing hurt him pitifully,
lest he should be housed and so miss the festivity, and if Mr. Hugh
himself had not discovered the state of the case, he might have been
very ill indeed.
It was toward afternoon of the second day of the discomfort that Mr.
Hugh, riding slowly up the road, was stopped by Tommy, who came out of
the back gate, looking anxiously behind him, as if he was afraid of
being followed. Mr. Hugh halted with a half amused, half questioning
expression on his face, well knowing that Tommy wanted something of
him, and called, “What’s up, little chap?” by way of greeting.
Tommy clung to a leather stirrup and rested his cheek against it, for
his legs were beginning to feel tired to the bone, which is one of the
many bad things that a sore throat does to people, and asked in a voice
that was so hoarse that it instantly attracted Mr. Hugh’s attention,
“Please, if Miss Letty is hurt or sick Saturday, will you have the
riding and the clay pigeon shoot and all the rest of the party?”
“No, of course not. Has anything happened to her?” asked Mr. Hugh,
anxiously.
“No, not _yet_; but there may, you see, ’cause this is only Tuesday.”
“Nonsense!” ejaculated Mr. Hugh, feeling astonished at the sense of
relief that came over him; for, without realizing it, he was depending
more and more upon the companionship of Miss Jule’s pretty niece, in
spite of the fact that as he ceased teasing her and treating her like
a child, she was taking her revenge, and had turned tables by always
laughing at him and never seeming serious for a moment.
“If--if Anne was sick, would you wait for her?” continued Tommy, more
slowly.
“Of course I would.”
“Well, if I was sick, really, truly sick, with a lumpy sore throat, I
suppose--you wouldn’t stop the party for only me?” There was a quaver
to the last words, and though the child kept his face hidden, Mr. Hugh
noticed for the first time that his cheeks were flushed, and the whole
thing flashed across him.
“Of course I’ll wait,” he said heartily. “It would never do to have the
party a man short; besides, what would your sweetheart, Miss Letty, do?
You know you promised to show her how to shoot, and lend her your gun.
Is the poor throat very sore? Come up here and we will have a ride home
round through the front gate, and tell that nice mother of ours all
about it, and have it cured.”
“Yes, it’s sore, and it’s getting pretty tight, too, and I’m dreffle
sleepy,” said Tommy, falling unconsciously into the trap, and leaning
comfortably against Mr. Hugh, who had pulled him on to the saddle
before him. But his anxiety had passed, so long as he did not miss the
party; a sore throat, in the nice sunny room that had been the nursery
and was now set apart for illness, with a big open fire to watch,
picture books, mother to sit by and read, or father to make up stories,
and a dog or two for company when they went away, was indeed luxury.
This, however, was the last delay, and the black frost kindly kept
away, leaving the last week in October as beautiful and suitable as
heart could desire.
Beside the Hilltop and Happy Hall people, who were all intimate
friends, Mr. Hugh had invited some of his own and Squire Burley’s men
friends, also a handful of the village young people. In addition there
was a Miss Varley stopping at the Scotts’. Her brother was a college
chum of Pinkie’s big brother, and they were all three invited, as they
were fond of sport, and good riders.
The Varleys, who came from the south, where they hunt foxes altogether
on horseback, suggested to Mr. Hugh that he should put corn-stalk or
brush hurdles in some of the gateless gaps in his tumble-down stone
fences, and have a drag-hunt over the course to break in the young
hounds, who all told numbered a pack of twenty.
Squire Burley was one of the few Hillside folk who owned a hunter,
because in this section all the fox-hunting was a necessity, done in
earnest, and afoot, with a swift death by bullet for the hen-roost
robbers. The Squire opened his land for the drag-hunt, likewise Miss
Jule and several small farmers, for all the crops were in but the
stacks of corn stalks. A drag-hunt, as Anne explained to Miss Letty,
“is when you put seeds that smell like a fox in a bag and drag it round
early in the morning when the dew is heavy and holds the scent down.
Then the dogs think it is a fox trail, and run like anything, and never
find that there isn’t any fox until it’s too late to back out, and
before the next time they forget all about how they were cheated.”
“You will be the only woman to follow,” Mr. Hugh had said to Miss
Varley, when the arrangements were completed. “Only two or three of our
girls ride, and they never take fences, though Diana here is beginning
to train for a huntress.”
Anne had laughed softly at this, and glanced slyly at Miss Letty,
for Mr. Hugh had caught them one morning when Anne was trying to coax
her father’s horse, Tom, over an improvised hurdle composed of a rake
handle set upon two small boxes, which collapsed upon the slightest
provocation; but he had not come in time to observe that Miss Letty,
who was mounted on Miss Jule’s Brown Kate, could handle a horse very
well, and already managed three of the four pasture bars; neither did
he know that several years back, when at school in England, she had
spent her holidays with the daughters of a farming squire to whom
cross-country riding was as familiar a doing as eating breakfast.
When the time was finally set, it chanced to fall upon the very last
day of October.
“Surely, the night is Hallowe’en, and so we can have apple and nut
sports, and the like,” exclaimed Mrs. Carr, when Mr. Hugh went up to
make the arrangements for the supper party which would fill two long
tables, one in the dining room and another in the kitchen, making it
necessary that one of Mr. Hugh’s maids as well as Mary Anne and Miss
Jule’s Anna Maria should help the old lady.
Mr. Hugh’s brake and the bus from the village were to transport the
people to and fro, and there would be a picnic lunch on the rocks by
the old mill-dam at noon; one of Mr. Hugh’s first improvements having
been to repair the broken-down wall, so that the pond would be in good
condition for skating, and he had, likewise, put up a small log shelter
for the skaters.
Tommy was the only small child invited; but Mr. Hugh knew that he could
be trusted to amuse himself and curl up in any corner and go to sleep
if he grew weary before going-home time came. Likewise, as such a field
day was almost as rare as Christmas that “comes but once a year,” his
mother said that he might stay up with the others--that is, if he was
able.
When the day came, it was one of those wonderful forerunners of Indian
summer; cool in the morning, warm, with a light breeze at noon, and at
night clear with a piercing electric brightness rayed from the north.
Most of the trees in the woods were bare, except a few oaks, the dead
leaves were crisp to the tread, and witch hazel was in its strange
yellow bloom in the hollows, but the leaves still clung in the
orchards, and the honeysuckles on farmhouse porches were green and
showed sprays of flowers.
Anne and Tommy went to Hilltop with the very first load, which was
compounded partly of dogs and partly of the “extras” that Mrs. Carr
needed. Neither, of course, were to follow the drag-hunt, but they
wanted to be on the spot, and Mr. Hugh had solemnly promised Tommy
that if he followed a certain safe wood-path leading round about in
a circle, that he should meet a rabbit face to face. While Anne, who
delighted in Mrs. Carr’s kitchen, was to have the honour of making a
batch of the celebrated seed cakes all by herself. Waddles, his wife,
and his son Jack, leashed together for a wonder, rode up with their
mistress, for it was not thought best to let them take their chances so
early in the day with the rough-and-ready foxhounds; but as they were
leaving the brake, Jack Waddles managed to slip loose and bolted off,
much to Anne’s worriment.
Tommy shielded his pockets carefully that morning, for in them was
concealed a secret that made him feel alternately important and
then very guilty; for he had a bag full of shot in each pocket, the
blacksmith’s boy not only having shown him how to use it, but supplied
him with it as well, in return for two enormous pumpkins that he had
coveted for lantern making.
When Anne went indoors, Mr. Hugh, who was riding about collecting
forces and telling Martin, who had volunteered, exactly where to trail
the drag, passed down the road on his way to meet the Varleys and show
them the cut to Squire Burley’s, for the hounds were gathered there, as
the start was to be from his orchard.
Miss Varley certainly looked very well on a horse, and was perfectly
aware of it. She wore a black skirt, a tight-fitting red coat and a
small continental hat looped up with a cockade--a costume in which
artists and illustrators had painted or sketched her; and she kept
her horse continually curvetting and champing at the bit, as she made
somewhat cutting remarks about what she termed “mere baby business,”
and derided the local habit of shooting foxes, in contrast to the
cross-country riding to which she was accustomed.
As Mr. Hugh was explaining that the animals were so plentiful in
this country of rocky caves that the farmers must keep them down in
the easiest way, by locating the runs with the hounds and following
afoot,--he glanced a bit ahead and saw, to his astonishment, Miss Letty
mounted upon Brown Kate, waiting quietly opposite Squire Burley’s, Jack
Waddles standing sentinel beside her; and as he came near, she greeted
him with an amused sort of smile, as if such things as following a drag
were of daily occurrence.
Mr. Hugh felt angry, and rather showed it; but it was really a form
that worry takes with some quite nice men. He was at heart afraid that
she did not know how to ride, and might come to grief. He cared a great
deal, but merely said, as if she had been fifteen: “What! are you
going? Was your aunt willing? I thought you and Anne would keep each
other company until luncheon.”
“Certainly, I am going,” she answered, flushing painfully at having
what both she and Miss Jule had meant for a surprise taken in such a
way; and added quickly, and rather at random: “Have you had that old
barbed wire fence taken down in the middle lot? You asked me to remind
you of it, but I quite forgot until this morning; and it may cripple
some of the dogs.”
“It’s rather late now,” said Mr. Hugh, annoyed to realize that he too
had forgotten. “But no one with common sense need go anywhere near it,
and if they do, they must take their chances.”
[Illustration: “_Miss Letty was waiting with a smile._”]
At this moment the hounds were put on the trail, and the party started
off, Miss Letty, who looked very girlish in the white cloth shirt waist
and white felt sailor hat that replaced the linen and straw of summer,
rode with Pinkie Scott’s brother, who admired her exceedingly.
“Follow me, and we will show them steel heels,” he said under his
breath, cutting across the orchard, and Miss Letty, holding a firm rein
and leaning slightly forward, followed.
Meanwhile Tommy and Waddles, whom, after much difficulty, he had coaxed
to follow him, started from Robin Hood’s Inn to hunt on their own
account, the way indicated by Mr. Hugh being very plain, and through
the part of the land where the drag-hunt was not.
[Illustration: _Tommy walked on in Silence._]
At first Waddles moved about here and there, treeing squirrels, digging
spasmodically for ground mice, who were travelling in the burrows of
moles, while Tommy wandered down the bed of a dried-up brook, his gun
held in a sportsmanlike grip, and his eyes searching the trees for the
big owl he promised himself that he would shoot, and ask Baldy to stuff
as full as life to grace the top of Miss Letty’s desk.
But it often happens, when one goes a-hunting, that the birds, beasts,
and fishes have engagements elsewhere. A hawk soared over toward the
river, and crows were quarrelling up in their roost in the cedars, but
the only birds that came near were a downy woodpecker, a nuthatch,
and a chickadee, and Anne’s brother would not think of even aiming at
these.
Tommy walked on in silence, a state to which he was quite a stranger,
until he began to feel that not to speak even to a dog gave one a
queer, chilly feeling; then he noticed that he had wandered out of the
beaten path, and he stopped to look about, and whistled for Waddles.
He was not afraid, for he was quite accustomed to taking care of
himself, but he was disappointed about the rabbit, and angry with
Waddles because he had gone off without finding a trail. Then he spied
a quantity of hickory nuts lying on the rocks where a squirrel had
evidently collected them, and he began to crack them with a stone, and
pick out the meats very deliberately, which showed that Tommy was tired.
Presently he heard a sound close behind that reminded him of the noise
the mother screech-owl had made when she snapped her beak. Getting
up cautiously he looked about. There, in deep shade, perched on the
gnarled root of a hickory tree that overlapped the rock, was a great
owl with a smooth, round head, blue-black eyes, and brown, barred
feathers. The bird sat still without blinking, watching a small hole
under the root. Tommy stood still, scarcely breathing, in his wonder at
the bird, hoping that it would not see him and flap in his face as the
screech-owl had in Anne’s.
Suddenly a young chipmunk, with back and tail striped like a garter
snake’s, ran out of the hole. One of the hooked claws made a grab, snap
went the beak, the little animal was secured, and the owl, spreading
its broad wings, flew into a hemlock, where it began to eat at its
leisure. Then only did Tommy remember his gun, and about his promise to
Miss Letty.
[Illustration]
“Never mind,” he said to himself; “father says owls are usefuller than
most things they eat, and that they oughtn’t to be killed, so I’m glad
I let him go; but rabbits eat lots of our garden things every year. I
must look for that bunny, because it’s here somewhere, for when Mr.
Hugh says so, it always happens.”
Tommy found his way back to the path, and met Waddles hurrying along;
he also had found poor hunting, and was now willing to follow. After
walking some distance, and having several false alarms (for when
on the watch a couple of beech leaves or a tuft of wild grass take
fanciful shapes), Tommy actually saw a pair of long ears held erect,
and a pair of bright eyes glistening around the corner of a rock just
before him. His first fear was that Waddles should see the prize and
chase it away before he had a chance to aim and cock his trigger, which
was quite a feat, the spring was so strong. For once, Waddles neither
scented nor suspected anything, but kept close to Tommy’s heels, nosing
about in the moss.
One step more, the child raised his gun, shut his eyes, and fired, and
then a reaction came, and he didn’t like to open them again, so sure he
was of having killed the pretty creature. Finally he peeped a little,
then stared, for there sat the rabbit as round-eyed and placid as
before; it had not even moved!
Tommy’s impulse to fire again was stopped by the thought that it would
be very mean to shoot such a tame animal, and that it must be some
one’s pet, though it was not Pinkie Scott’s, for everybody in Dogtown
knew her rabbits by heart, they had carried them home to her so many
times, when they had strayed off gardening on their own hook.
[Illustration: _Tommy meets the Rabbit._]
Waddles sauntered slowly forward, saw the rabbit, and making a spring,
knocked it over with one blow of his paw; but still it did not
move. Then Tommy saw that it was a stuffed beast mounted on a little
wooden platform, to which moss and dead leaves were glued. When he had
recovered from his astonishment he was ready to cry with rage. “It was
too mean of Mr. Hugh,” he muttered. “He promised--he promised, and then
he didn’t do it.” Then the exact words of the promise came to him; it
was that he was to “meet a rabbit face to face.” “I s’pose I have,” he
continued; “only he didn’t say its insides would be stuffing instead of
real.” But when he picked up his gun, which he had dropped, and looked
it over, and felt the bag which sagged his pocket, he remembered that
he had forgotten to put any shot in the gun. Then he walked along,
leaving the poor stuffed rabbit resting on one ear, wondering which
was the worst, to have shot at a real rabbit with no shot, or to have
been fooled by a stuffed one, and at the moment that he made up his
mind that the first would be the most aggravating, he turned into the
low meadow that was divided from its neighbour by the old barbed wire
fence, and from which the lane led to Robin Hood’s Inn.
A yelping of dogs sounded afar off in the rear, with straggling cries
on both sides of him and in front. Off started Waddles, quickly
disappearing in the bushes, and Tommy followed as fast as his legs
could carry him, for he heard a voice and the trampling of hoofs, and
if the run was over, it must be luncheon time.
All unknown to him the drag-hunt had split in two, deaf Mrs. Happy
being the innocent first cause. She had gone to Robin Hood’s Inn with
Anne, and had curled up contentedly in the sunny porch in company with
old Laddie, when presently an odour reached her nose that caused her to
spring up, sniff the air, and start headlong down the lane to the road,
where, on crossing the stone fence, she struck the trail of a skunk,
startled from his daytime lodging by the hounds who had recently passed
close by. Nose to ground, she gave tongue and followed the skunk, who
had zigzagged about the fences for a time before making off to another
hiding-place he had by the river. Further down, the hounds in doubling
crossed this new trail, and some of the young ones, hearing Happy’s
cry, were drawn off upon it, part of the riders following, only to come
upon impassable rocks by the river cut.
* * * * *
The barking came nearer, and Happy, Waddles, and Jack dashed past Tommy
and up the lane; at the same time he saw a riderless horse in the
outer field, and something seemed to move near the barbed wire fence
that ran between.
“It’s one of those poor hounds, and that wicked wire has caught him,”
cried Tommy, running toward the spot with his eyes flashing and his
little fists doubled up, for, like Anne, he could not bear to have
animals suffer pain.
But when he got near he saw that it was not a hound that was caught by
the wire, but Mr. Hugh! For an instant Tommy was frightened, but as
soon as he saw that his friend was not hurt, but merely held fast by
the clothes in a dozen places, the fun of the situation struck him, and
he capered about shouting, and making comments, and asking questions,
all in one breath.
“Ah, Mr. Hugh, you do look so funny! If only Anne were here with her
camera to take a picture! If you’ll wait long enough, I’ll go fetch
her, for you’re hooked up just like when Pinkie Scott reached after
lilies and fell in the pond, and they pulled her out from behind with
the hay-fork. Did the horse tumble you in like that?”
The truth was that Mr. Hugh had dismounted to let down some bars for
the people who had gone astray, and his horse, feeling fresh, galloped
off. In trying to head him off by a short cut, Mr. Hugh had met the
barbed wire fence, seen a gap between the strands, dashed at it, only
to be caught by a couple of slack wires when halfway through, in such
a position that if he let go the only hold he had upon a half rotten
post, he must fall upon a rusty coil that guarded the tumble-down stone
fence below. Barbed wire at best is cruel stuff, and when it is old and
rusty every scratch it gives means danger.
“Stop bawling so, for pity’s sake, and see if you can help me out of
this mess before the others come; try to pry the wire with a stick,”
said Mr. Hugh, in so hoarse a whisper that Tommy instantly obeyed,
or rather tried to, but the sticks at hand were either too small or
rotten, and at every twist the poor man made the hooked wire seemed to
take new hold.
At this moment the snapping of twigs and the padding sound of hoofs on
grass made Mr. Hugh give a painful writhe to look over his shoulder;
his discomfiture was complete, for there was Miss Letty.
She slipped quickly to the ground, and tethering Brown Kate to a
branch, came forward, looking, as Tommy told Anne that night in the
privacy of his little bed, “the colour you feel when you’ve waited too
long for your breakfast.”
Seeing that Mr. Hugh had not been thrown, but was merely snared,
she pulled herself together and hesitated for a moment; while he,
putting on an air of bravado which was very funny under the cramped
circumstances, said: “Yes, here I am, and having parted with my common
sense I’m taking the consequences, and you have your revenge. When all
the party have had a good look at me, I suppose some one will help me
out.”
Miss Letty did not answer though she was afraid he would hear her heart
beat it was thumping so loudly, but looking about with a swift glance
spied Tommy’s gun that had fallen unnoticed in the grass. Seizing it,
she slipped it between the two furthest apart wires, managing to catch
a barb in the muzzle, and pried, while with the handle of her riding
crop she pulled back the two loose strands with all her strength.
There was a sound of tearing cloth, a pocket burst open, throwing its
contents in among the leaves, and Mr. Hugh crawled out on his hands
and knees, literally at Miss Letty’s feet. Just as she stretched out
her hand to help him, lest he slip backward, one of the papers that
Tommy was cramming back into the letter-case caught her eye; it was the
picture of herself that Anne had taken, and which had disappeared as
if by magic. Mr. Hugh, if it was possible, turned redder than he was
before he was released; but Letty, with quiet tact, quickly unfastened
Brown Kate and, scrambling into the saddle by the aid of a stone at
the fence corner, cantered off in the opposite direction to where Mr.
Hugh’s horse was now quietly grazing.
For a minute the big man and the little one stood eying each other
curiously. Then Tommy broke the pause: “Now isn’t Miss Letty common
sensible and useful enough to be your sweetheart, Mr. Hugh, even if she
is pretty? And wouldn’t that red and black girl have shouted if she’d
seen you in the fence?”
“Yes, Tommy,” said Mr. Hugh, quietly; “you are a better judge than I
was; but Miss Letty does not wish to be the sweetheart of an old bear
like me.”
“No,” said Tommy, candidly, “I guess not, for I’ve heard her say you
were a bear, and so has Anne.” And though Tommy handed back the letter
book containing the picture without further comment, he had seen, and
when one has seen a thing, one can hardly unsee it again. Mr. Hugh
secured his horse and regained the road, Tommy riding in front of him,
before he overtook the others; and the beseeching look that the big
man gave the little one as he swung him to the ground kept him quiet
concerning the barbed wire episode, at least for some hours.
* * * * *
At the end of an afternoon spent in archery, and shooting clay pigeons,
winding up with a great game of hide and seek, in which old and young,
men and women, joined, the last one to be found receiving a prize of
the beautifully painted head of a foxhound, supper and the fire warmth
made the party good-naturedly drowsy.
Miss Varley, who won the prize, had hidden herself beyond finding by
dropping into the hollow trunk of an old chestnut tree; but the agility
that took her in did not get her out again, which was only accomplished
by a long, strong pull by two of the most muscular men of the party,
engineered by Mr. Hugh. This, however, did not count, and being much
elated and in high spirits, she gradually stirred the company into
story-telling, camp-fire fashion, with the difference that no one was
to talk for a longer time than the faggot he or she threw on the flames
should burn. This caused more than one tale to break off before the
climax, and the guessing and merriment that ensued soon made every
one wide awake again, with the exception of Tommy, who was destined to
finish the evening under the blue and white curtains of Mrs. Carr’s
ample four poster. So, as he said he had a story to tell, he was given
the next turn. Liking quick results, he picked a handful of white pine
cones from the basket instead of a stick, and as they flashed into a
juicy flame began deliberately:--
“Once there was a barbed wire fence on top of a stone wall. It ought to
have been taken down, ’cause it was rusty and wicked, but it wasn’t,
’cause somebody forgot.”--Seeing signs of agitated interest in at least
two of his audience, Tommy spoke faster--“This old fence was very
cruel indeed, and it caught things tighter than spiders and flies,
but the things were bigger. First it caught a dear little dog named
Jill, and Mrs. Carr, when she was the Herb Witch, pulled her out and
mended her. The next thing that barbed wire fence caught was bigger
and funnier--a--great--big--” “Time’s up,” called Mr. Hugh, before
Tommy could say another word, at the moment that the blaze vanished in
blackness, after the fashion of pine-cone fires; and if you said even a
single word after time was called, you must pay a fine.
However, as Anne led Tommy away, fairly stumbling with the sleep that
was in his heels if not in his head, he turned, hung back, and said
to Mr. Hugh, in a piping voice that could be heard above all the
babble, “You needn’t have looked so scared, I wasn’t going to tell
it just _zackly_ the way it was--nor about that picture Anne took
of Miss Letty--nor--” but the closing door kindly shut Tommy off,
and though the entire party suspected a joke of some kind, only one
beside the conscious pair saw through the whole affair. This was Miss
Jule, who had seen Mr. Hugh slip the photograph into his pocket that
afternoon long ago, before the sixlets were born. She had also chanced
to see from a distance the barbed wire fence episode, and for some
reason known to herself a motherly smile of content lighted her plain
features, until Letty, glancing shyly at her aunt, wondered why she had
never before thought her fine looking.
Mrs. Carr’s various combinations of apples, nuts, candles, rings,
flour, and pails of water, that go to make up Hallowe’en tricks,
produced more good-natured fun, especially when Miss Letty, after
swinging it thrice over her head, threw the apple paring over her left
shoulder, causing Anne to exclaim at the initial it made, which was
promptly eaten by Tip, who loved fruit, before any one else could
decipher it.
Then the stage and brake came up, and there was a search for wraps,
while Anne was astounded and mystified to find Miss Letty hugging
poor Happy and stuffing her with cold chicken. She had been shut up
supperless in a back passageway because she had been disobedient and
spoiled the hunt, and had also gone too near the skunk.
Mr. Hugh’s horse had been put up in Miss Jule’s stable, so he rode
that far in the brake with the others, and stopped off to get him. As
there was no reason why he should wait outside in the cold, he went in
with Miss Jule, who hurried off to make some coffee (Anna Maria having
retired), as she said, to “settle their wits, after too much supper
and too much laughter,” leaving the two standing before the hall fire,
feeling equally awkward. Colin and Hamlet, who had stayed at home,
hearing voices, came racing from the kitchen hall and greeted Letty
with an unfeigned joy that tumbled her hair down on her shoulders,
while Tip, not to be outdone, sprang upon the back of a near-by chair
and, paws on her shoulder, gave her a kiss on the tip of the nose.
“Love me, love my dog,” quoted Miss Letty, struggling with her
pets, and, after the fashion of flustered people, meaning nothing in
particular by her words.
“I do,” answered Mr. Hugh, promptly, having found himself at last.
“Ah!” was what Miss Jule said, when she returned with the coffee
fifteen minutes later.
That night Miss Letty wrote a long letter to her Aunt Marie, telling
her that she liked American customs so much that she had decided
to remain in the country. The letter also said other things which
prevented Aunt Marie from accusing Aunt Jule of unfair influence, which
was quite fortunate.
Before the week was over everybody had heard the news, and everybody
was glad, which was quite wonderful, and Tommy had the honour of being
the messenger. This office he filled most thoroughly, adding details
from time to time to entertain his hearers, that were certainly not a
part of his commission.
Presently, one rainy day, Miss Letty herself came down, as Anne said,
for a good talk, and before seating herself with the children and dogs
on the hearth rug, she pulled a round bundle from her ulster pocket
and tossed it to Anne, who exclaimed upon opening it, for out fell two
beautiful silver bands, lined with chamois, upon which letters were
engraved.
“Why, they are dog collars! Who are they for?” she exclaimed, holding
them toward the light to read the letters.
“For Mr. and Mrs. Waddles, and they are from _us_, because,--because,
you see, we think that if Happy had not mixed up the drag-hunt we might
have kept on misunderstanding and wandering around Robin Hood’s barn
always.”
“They are perfectly lovely, and too good for every day,” said Anne,
fastening one on Happy, but having to coax Waddles, who was always
suspicious of new-fangled things. “But don’t you really, truly think,
dear Miss Letty, that the poor old barbed wire fence deserves a silver
collar, too?”