THE FOX UNDER THE ROBE.
DORA sitting upon the doorstep, with Sunshine nestled close beside
her, was quite astonished to see Mr. Brown appearing from the forest
with Kitty, as his letter had named no day for his arrival; and she
had not expected him so soon.
She went to meet him, however, with a greeting of unaffected
cordiality; and as, while holding out her hand, she raised to his
her clear and steadfast eyes, the young man's somewhat serious face
lighted with a sudden, happy glow, making it so handsome, that
Kitty, eagerly watching the meeting, turned white to the very lips,
and hastily passed on toward the house.
"Come, Dolce," said she, "I will put you to bed. Dora's lover has
come to see her, and she won't have a look for either of us
to-night."
"I love you, Kitty; and I don't mind if you did throw away my moss.
I won't bring any more into the house."
But Sunshine, well disposed as, through Dora's careful suggestions,
she had become toward Kitty, was rather alarmed than pleased at the
sudden embrace in which she found herself wrapped, and the eager
kisses, among which Kitty whispered,--
"O Dolce! do you, do you love poor Kitty a little? You're an angel,
and I'm real sorry about the moss; but you can get some more, can't
you? I'll help you hunt for it to-morrow while they're gone to walk
or ride. They'll be off all day; but we won't mind. Do you love me,
Dolly?"
"Yes, I do, Kitty; and I know a place where the moss is so thick,
you can't step unless you put your foot on it. But I didn't,
'cause"--
"'Cause what, you darling?"
"'Cause the little creatures that live in the woods come and dance
there nights, and they wouldn't like it if it was dirty."
"What creatures? The woodchucks?"
"Why, no, Aunt Kitty! the little girls and boys, or something. They
whisper way off among the trees, and dance too, just when the sun
sets. Didn't you ever see them skipping in and out among the trees
just as far off as you could look?"
"Those are shadows, Dolly; and the whispering in the trees is the
wind. You mustn't have so many fancies, child, or by and by you'll
get cracked."
"Then you can boil me in milk, just as you did the teacup," murmured
Sunshine, half asleep.
Kitty made no answer, but, smoothing the sheet over the little girl,
went to seat herself at the open window.
Far off upon the prairie she heard the night-winds come and go,--now
moaning like some vast spirit wandering disquieted, now falling soft
and low as the breath of the sleeping earth; and the vague voice and
the cool touch seemed to quiet the fever of the young girl's heart,
although she knew not how or why.
Above, in the purple skies, stood all the host of heaven, looking
down with solemn benediction upon the earth, lying peaceful and
loving beneath their gaze; and even Kitty-poor, lonely, heartsick
Kitty-lifted her hot, tearful face toward them, and felt the holy
calm descend upon her aching heart.
Falling upon her knees, she raised her arms yearningly toward
heaven; and her whole soul struggled upward in the cry,--
"Oh I wish I could, I wish I could, be good! O God! make me good
enough to die and go to where my mother is!"
A light step upon the stair, a gentle hand upon the latch, and
strange Kitty, perverse even among her best impulses, started up,
and stood cold and silent in the darkness.
"Kitty!" said Dora's voice softly.
"Well. I'm here."
"Won't you come down now? Sunshine is asleep; isn't she?"
"Yes."
"Well, won't you come?"
"By and by: I've got to see to the beds. Where is Mr. Brown going to
sleep?"
"I thought you might give him your room, and come in here."
"Indeed I sha'n't!" replied Kitty in a strange voice. "He is no
company of mine; and I don't want him even to look into my room. I'd
never sleep there again if he did once!"
"Well, then, we can make a bed for Karl on the floor, and Mr. Brown
can have his bed," said Dora quietly, seeing nothing deeper in
Kitty's refusal than a little impulse of perversity.
Kitty made no reply; and Dora, groping her way toward where she
stood, put an arm about her waist, saying,--
"Come, Kitty, come down with me. You're tired, I know; and it is too
bad you have so much to do. To-morrow I will stay at home and help
you. Karl can take a holiday, and show Mr. Brown over the farm."
"What nonsense! I don't do any thing to hurt; and it would be pretty
well for you to send Mr. Brown off with Karl, when he came here on
purpose to see you."
"Oh, no, he didn't! He came to see us all; and he asked where you
were just now, when we came in."
"And that was why you came to look for me; wasn't it?" asked Kitty
suspiciously.
"Not wholly. I had been thinking of it for some minutes."
"But couldn't bear to leave long enough," suggested Kitty; adding,
however, "Well, I'll come. I suppose it is no more than polite, as
long as he's company."
"Of course it isn't; and you know Mr. Brown is very ceremonious,"
said Dora, so archly, that Kitty paused in smoothing her hair to
say,--
"Now, if you're going to make fun of me, Dora"--
"Oh, I'm not!-not a bit of it. There, now, you're nice enough for
any thing."
In the kitchen, besides Mr. Brown and Karl, the girls found Mr. and
Mrs. Ross; Mehitable demurely seated in a corner, and knitting a
long woollen stocking; while Seth, under the skilful management of
Mr. Brown, was giving quite an interesting description of life in a
Maine logging-camp.
"Do you ever have any trouble from wild beasts in that region?"
asked the chaplain.
"Waal, some. There's lots of b'ar about by spells; and once't in a
while a painter or a wild-cat-wolverines, some calls 'em out here."
"Did you ever meet one yourself?"
"Which on 'em?"
"Either. Bears, for instance."
"Yes, sir. I've took b'ar ever since I wor old enough to set a
trap."
"Did you ever have any trouble with one?"
"Waal, I don' know as I did. They was mostly pooty 'commodatin',"
said Seth, drawing the back of his brown hand across his mouth to
hide a self-complacent grin at the recollection of his own exploits.
"Tell Mr. Brown 'bout the painter and Uncle 'Siah's Harnah,"
suggested Mehitable in a low voice; and as Seth only stirred in his
chair, and looked rather reprovingly at his wife, the guest added,--
"Yes, Mr. Ross, tell us that, by all means."
"Ho! 'twa'n't much of a story; only the woman thinks consid'able
about it, 'cause it wor a cousin of ourn that wor took off."
"Indeed! and what were the circumstances?" politely insisted Mr.
Brown. So Seth, tilting his chair upon its hind-legs, and crossing
his own, stuck his chin into the air; fixed his eyes upon the
ceiling, and began, in the inimitable nasal whining voice of a
Down-East Yankee, the story narrated in the following chapter.