The cold little nose of an animal it seemed; for it was followed by the
lapping of a warm little tongue, and the cuddling of a muffy, furry
little body against Laura. Still Kathie slept soundly, and Laura was too
frightened to waken her. Every moment she expected to hear a growl, and
have an angry bite from a set of savage teeth; but no bite or growl
coming, and the cuddling of the little creature seeming to be kindly,
she became less fearful, and her heart stopped its hurried beating.
"Kathie!" she whispered--"Kathie!" But Kathie slept, and would not
waken.
[Illustration: "KATHIE GAZED AT LAURA, SLEEPING WITH ONE HAND ON THE
NECK OF A YOUNG BEAR CUB."]
An owl hooted dismally, and Laura shivered, which only made the little
furry creature crowd nearer, as if for protection. She put out her
hand and felt of the soft warm fur; again the warm tongue touched her
hand, and reminded her of her spaniel Fido. She patted the head,
wondering if it were a dog. Fido she knew it could not be, for his head
was smaller, and he was every way more slender than this strange
creature. As her fears abated, and she became more reconciled to the
presence of this new-comer, she became drowsy again, and before long
fell as soundly asleep as was Kathie; and when morning came, with its
bird-calls and tender flush of dawn, Kathie was the first to waken; and
she gazed with astonishment, not unmixed with fear, at Laura, sleeping
with one hand resting on the neck of a young bear cub.
Kathie had witnessed such strange and novel things in Laura's company
that she began to think Laura too was a fairy, and had something in
common with all the inhabitants of the woods; but so lovely was she in
Kathie's eyes, and so welcome had been her kindness and gentle sympathy,
that Kathie was disposed to think all that was good of Laura, and that
if she were a fairy, she was a very charming one. When Laura aroused,
however, her start of surprise and look of wonder at the little animal
beside her, and then her dimly remembered experience of the night coming
to her recollection taking off the edge of her fear, showed Kathie that
she was quite as much a human child as herself.
The little bear had snuggled himself so close beside Laura that she
could not move without disturbing him. As yet he showed no signs of
waking; his eyes were tightly shut, and he was almost a ball in shape.
"It's a real baby bear, Kathie. Where do you suppose he came from?"
"I cannot imagine," answered Kathie. "But," she added, "I think we had
better hurry away, for fear its mother may come in search of it."
"Oh, Kathie, no; he is too cunning and pretty. I cannot give him up. See
how he nestles up to me, and how affectionate he is."
"But the mother, Laura, would be very cruel to us. I have heard
terrible tales of children hugged to death by bears."
"I don't believe he has a mother," said Laura, eagerly. "I think his
mother has probably been killed, and that he has come to us to be taken
care of. You need not look so doubtful, Kathie. Perhaps this was his
home, this very nook of ours where we have been sleeping, and he has
come seeking his mother, poor little cub, and not finding her, has lain
down here for warmth and comfort. I mean to keep him and take him home
with me. Now, Kathie, be good and help me, and you shall see what a dear
pet he will make. I think he is just as cunning and pretty as he can be,
and we will train him to do all sorts of funny things."
Still Kathie looked anxious; but the cub wakened and whined, and ate
some oat-cake from Laura's hand, and when they rose to begin their walk
he trotted after them, as if afraid they were about leaving him. But
Laura was too delighted with the idea of a new pet to think of leaving
him, and Kathie and she took turns in carrying the little creature when
it appeared to be tired; for, now they were nearing home, Laura's steps
were quicker, and the way seemed far less difficult.
"How glad I shall be to see the dear Motherkin again!" said Laura, as
they rested for a while in the cool shadow of a great tree at whose
roots babbled a clear brook.
Kathie looked sad and weary and homesick.
"And how glad she will be to see you, Kathie dear!"
"Do you think so, Laura? I am so unused to strange faces, and so afraid,
that I almost wish you had left me in the woods."
"Ah, don't speak that way, Kathie; you might have starved there all
alone."
"I am not ungrateful, dear Laura."
"No, I know you are not, Kathie; you only miss little Fritz; but I am
going to find your father for you, and then, if you want to, you shall
go back to your own home, and my mamma and I will give you a great many
nice things, and we will make it pleasant and comfortable for you."
Kathie's face brightened at these kind words.
"And what can I do for you?" she asked.
"Oh, you shall teach me to spin and knit and plait, and do all sorts of
things."
And then they went on again, still followed by the little cub, around
whose neck Laura had hung a wreath of wild flowers, from which he
munched occasionally, and which she had as frequently to renew.
They had no more strange adventures, for the staff guided them safely on
their way, and as the sun lowered, and the afternoon became cool, and
the birds were less noisy, Laura suddenly espied the gray figure and
scarlet cap of Grim, waiting on the edge of the wood to welcome the
little wayfarers. When he saw them, he tossed his cap high in the air as
a signal to the Motherkin, whose pleasant face quickly appeared, and in
a few moments Laura was in her embrace. Then followed the welcome to
Kathie, and even the cub came in for his share of attention; but as
they neared the cottage, to Laura's greater astonishment, her own dear
mamma came out and took her in her arms.
"My child! my own dear Laura!" exclaimed her mother, tenderly, "how
altered you are! how you have grown! and what a fine healthy brown is
upon your cheeks! and, best of all, my dear friend tells me of the
loving pilgrimage you have just finished, and what a good girl my Laura
has become." And the mother kissed and clasped Laura, while tears of joy
fell from her eyes.
Never had there been so charming a feast seen as the Motherkin had
prepared for the little pilgrims. All about the cottage in the trees
were hung colored lanterns, which, as the evening grew darker, gave out
brilliant sparkles of light; on the little lawn was a table laden with
fruits and creams and cakes, and the white cloth was festooned with pink
roses; rustic seats, dressed with flowers and canopied with boughs, were
arranged on a carpet of richly woven colors; vases and jars of
sweet-scented flowers adorned the tables, where glittered silver
pitchers and crystal cups.
Lovely white dresses of thinnest muslin and coronets of white blossoms
had been prepared for the children, who, having bathed and refreshed
themselves, were led by Grim to their seats beside Lady Idleways and the
Motherkin, who listened with attention to Laura's account of her
journey.
Grim listened, too, chuckling with pleasure as he moved about, waiting
upon his mistress and her guests.
"Now, my dear Lady Idleways," said the Motherkin, "I can let Laura
return to you with great satisfaction, for I am quite sure she has been
much benefited by her visit to us. She came to me a spoiled, too much
indulged child; she goes back to you a sensible, intelligent being, with
a desire to be useful, and with sympathy for her fellow-creatures."
"But, my dear Motherkin," said Laura, with tears, "am I to go home and
never, never see you again, or Grim, or Kathie, or my dear little bear,
or have any more happy days in the woods?"
"Why, no, my dear Laura," said her mother, quickly. "You shall take
Kathie home with you, and your dear little bear, and all that you love;
and you shall see the Motherkin very often--as often as she will let you
come to the Forest of Pines; and we will spend all our days in the woods
if you wish, for I shall want you to go about with me among the
cottages, and see what we can do for the poor people in them; besides,
you forget that we are to find Kathie's father for her, and make her
home a happy one again."
"And after all, dear Laura, you need never suffer for want of my
company," said the Motherkin; "for though I asked your mother not to
reveal my name before you came to me, I have no wish to make it any
longer a secret. I am the fairy Industry. Be industrious, dear child,
and I am always at your service."