I shook my head, with a fascinated look at the gleaming star.

"I haven't a watch."

"But you don't need a watch," he answered. "See here."

He stooped down, painfully, grasping the fence for support, and picked

the snowy seed-ball of a dandelion plant. Then he straightened up,

slowly, and blew at the feathery toy.

"One, two, three, four, five! Five o'clock. Time for the old major to go

in out of the damp."

Then he turned away from me, and went on up the street, his cane digging

little holes in the path, and he himself forgetting all about the child

whom he had left still perched on her gate. I had not entirely passed

from his memory, however, for when he came to his own gate far in the

distance, he took off his hat, and gallantly waved it to me before he

went in out of the damp.

"Mother, I love the old major!" I said one day.

"What major?" my mother asked, looking up from her work with a smile.

She was making small ruffled skirts and aprons with pockets. She could

make the most beautiful things, all out of her own head.

"What major? Why, my major. Mother, has the old major any little girls

or boys that I could play with? Oh, I should so like to play with his

little girls and boys!"

"Major Daniel Clark hasn't any little girls or boys. He lost them all,

dear. He is a very lonely man."

"Didn't he ever find them again, mother?"

"No, dear. Never again."

Now, I was very good at finding things. I found grandmother's spectacles

ten times a day, even when they were only lost in her soft, white hair.

And once I found mother's thimble when little brother Dick had it in his

mouth, and it was just going down red lane. Norah said that I had a pair

of bright eyes, and my very father, when he wanted his slippers, could

think of no one so trustworthy to send as I. To find little girls and

boys would be quite easy, for they were much larger things. I had only

to ask all the girls and boys who came past my gate if they belonged to

the major, and, when the right ones came, we would run hand-in-hand up

to that distant door and go in. He would be so pleased, and never lonely

again. And, perhaps--Just suppose that he would be my friend forever and

ever!

The Chronicles of Rhoda · 第 21 / 64 题