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In a cave on the south side of the mountain there once lived a hermit.
He was only middle aged but his hair was white. He was kind of manner
and speech but he often sighed as one bereft of hope. He worked for the
farmers round about, who paid him with potatoes or other produce or
sometimes with money when they could spare it. He lived a lonely life on
the mountainside with no one to share it. Here he snared rabbits and
caught skunks and foxes and sold their skins. In a space before the cave
he built a rough cabin which concealed the entrance. To one side of this
he built a shack to house his chickens and on the other side he planted
apples, pears and peaches. Grapes he shunned as open to misconstruction.
He gathered firewood in the forest and no one molested him. The water
for drinking and cooking came from a spring on the mountainside not far
from his door.
He was kind to the children and often gave them candy. The path to and
from the schoolhouse led past his door and he often saw the school
teacher passing. She was a lady who had begun to teach several years
before this story opens. She had been very beautiful as a girl but now
some of her fresh complexion had gone where the good complexions go, and
she was using a powder puff instead. Her nose was a little sharper and
she was rather more positive in some of her ideas than she had been as a
young girl. The children always spoke to the hermit and in this way she
got to know him.
At Christmas time she had a two-weeks vacation. There was a heavy fall
of snow which drifted, so that all the roads were closed. She said to
her mother:
“I wonder how my poor hermit is getting along in this snow, all alone on
the mountainside.”
“It is too bad,” said her mother, who did and said pretty much as
Anna-Bell wished her.
When school opened again she stopped at his house to enquire.
The hermit said he was getting along pretty well, thank you, but she
looked around the room with distaste. There was much dirt in the
corners, the windows needed cleaning and dirty dishes were standing on
the table.
“Don’t you ever go to town?” said she.
“Yes,” he replied, “I am going this afternoon and shall not get home
until after dark.”
She made no reply but a light came into her eyes. After school she
hurried to the cottage, pinned a towel around her and began to sweep and
scrub. Then she closed the door carefully and went home. When he came
home it seemed more cheerful but he noticed nothing more. The next
morning he only said: “Good Morning,” though she seemed to expect
something more. That afternoon on her way home she asked him for a drink
of water.
Then she said to him: “Where are you from?”
“My home was in New York,” said he.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“I was in the commission business,” he replied, “but I grew ashamed.”
“You deserve a reward,” said she, “choose one!”
“I need a cook,” said he, “come and cook for me as soon as you can
learn.”
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