In the confusion of glad welcome that followed, Hazel was conscious of stepping into a large, warm, lighted room, of some one's arms about her, and of a loving voice, saying:
"Come in, dear; you must be so tired with your long journey and this cold ride;" and then a kiss that made her half forget the lonely, strange feeling she had had during the stage and wagon ride, despite the doctor's cheerfulness and care of her.
Then some one untied her brown velvet hood and loosened her long sealskin coat.
"Let me take off your things," said Rose.
Hazel looked up and into the loveliest face she ever remembered to have seen.
"I 'm Rose, and this is May. May, this is the valentine Martie told us of."
"I tiss 'oo," said May, winningly, and held up her rosy bud of a face to Hazel. Hazel stooped to give her, not one, but a half-dozen kisses. There was no resisting such a little blossom.
May put up her hand and stroked the little silk skull-cap.
"What 'oo wear tap for?"
"Sh! baby," said Rose, horrified, putting her hand on May's mouth.
"Oh, don't do that," said Hazel, "I 'm so used to it now; I don't mind what people say or think. But I did at first."
May's lip began to quiver and roll over; Hazel sat down on the settle, and, drawing May up beside her, said gently:–
"There, there, little May Blossom, don't you cry, and I 'll tell you all about it. It's because I have n't any hair. I lost it all when I was sick so long. Sometime I 'll show you how funny my head looks, all covered with fuzz. Doctor Heath says it's like a little chicken's." And May was comforted and won once and for all to the Valentine, who gave her the tiny chatelaine watch to play with.
Budd had been hanging about to get the first glimpse of Hazel by lamplight, and now rushed off to the barn and Chi to give vent to his feelings.
"I say, Chi, where are you?"
"In the harness room," replied Chi. "What do you want?" as he appeared.
"I say, Chi, she 's a peach. She is n't a bit stuck up, as March said she would be."
"Good-lookin'?" queried Chi.
"N-o," said Budd, hesitating, "n-o, but I think she will be when she gets some hair."
"Ain't got any hair!" exclaimed Chi. "How does that happen?"
"She said she 'd been sick an' lost it all, an' 't was like chicken fuzz."
"Said that, did she?" exclaimed Chi, laughing; then, with the sudden change from gayety to absolute solemnity that was peculiar to him, he said:–
"She 's no fool, I can tell you that, Budd; 'n' I 'll bet my last red cent she 'll come out an A Number 1 beauty; 'n' March Blossom had better hold his tongue till he cuts all his wisdom teeth." And with that Chi went into the shed room to "wash up."
What a supper that was! And what a room in which to eat it!
But for the Doctor's cheery voice, Hazel, as she sat in a corner of the settle, might have thought herself in another world, so unaccustomed were her city-bred eyes to all that was going on before her. The room itself was so queer, and, in a way new to her, delightful.
The farmhouse was an old one, strong of beam and solid of foundation. It had been divided at first according to the fashion of the other century in which it was built. But as his family increased, Mr. Blossom found the need of a large, general living-room. It was then that he took down the wall between the front square room and the kitchen, and threw them into one. It was this arrangement that made the apartment unique.
At one end was the huge fireplace that was originally in the front room. At the left of the fireplace was the jog into which the front door opened, formerly the little entry.
This was the sitting-room end of the low forty-foot-long apartment; and it showed to Hazel the fireplace, the old-fashioned crane, with the hickory back-log glowing warm welcome, the long red-cushioned settle, a set of shelves filled with books, a little round work-table, Mrs. Blossom's special property, a large round table of cherry that had turned richly red with age, and wooden armchairs and rockers, with patchwork cushions.
The middle portion served for dining-room. In it were the family table of hard pine, the wooden chairs, and Mrs. Blossom's grandmother's tall pine dresser.
At the kitchen end, next the woodshed, were the sink, the stove, the kitchen shelves for pots and pans, and the kitchen table with its bread-trough and pie-board, all of which Rose kept scoured white with soap and sand.
This living-room, sitting-room, dining-room, and kitchen in one had six windows facing south and east. Every window had brackets for plants; for this evening Rose had turned the blossom-side inwards to the room, and the walls glowed and gleamed with the velvety crimson of gloxinias, the red of fuchsias, the pink and white and scarlet of geraniums, the cream of wax-plant and begonia. Upon all this radiance of color, the lamplight shone and the fire flashed its crimson shadows. The kettle sang on the stove, and the delicious odor of baked potatoes came from the open oven.
"Why, March!" said the Doctor, coming down from the spare room at the call for supper, "waiting for an introduction? I did n't know you stood on ceremony in this fashion. Allow me," he said with mock gravity to Hazel, and presented March in due form.
Hazel greeted him exactly as she would have greeted a new boy at dancing-school. "Little Miss Finicky," was March's scornful thought of her, as he bowed rather awkwardly and thrust his hands into his pockets, racking his brains for something to say.
"What a handsome boy! As handsome as Jack," was Hazel's first impression; then, missing the cordiality with which the other members of the family had welcomed her, she said in thought, "I 'm sure he does not want me here by the way he acts; I think he 's horrid."
Doctor Heath sat down by Hazel. "I 'm not going to let you sit down to tea with all these mischiefs, little girl, not to-night, for you can't eat baked potatoes and the other good things after that long journey, so I 'll ask Rose to give you a bite right here on the settle."
"I 'll speak to Rose," said March, glad to get away.
"Thank you," said the Doctor, looking after him with a puzzled expression in his keen eyes. Just then Mr. Blossom and Chi came in, and the whole family sat down at the table.
"Why, where 's Cherry?" exclaimed the Doctor.
"Budd, where 's Cherry?" said his father.
"I promised her I would n't tell where she hides till she was twelve, an' now she 's ten, an' she 's been so mean about Haz–
"Budd," said his father, sternly, "answer me directly."
"She 's under the pantry shelf behind the meal-chest," said Budd, meekly.
There was a shout of laughter that caused Cherry to crawl out pretty quickly and open the pantry door,–for it was hard to hear the fun and not be in it.
"Come, Cherry," said her mother, still laughing, and Cherry slipped into her seat beside Doctor Heath with a murmured, "How do you do?" and her face bent so low over her plate that nothing was visible to Hazel but a round head running over with tight red curls that bobbed and trembled in a peculiarly funny way.
"Well, Cherry," said the Doctor, trying to speak gravely, with only the red tip of a nose in view, "you seem to be rather low in your mind. I shall have to prescribe for you. Chi, suppose you drive me down to the Settlement to-morrow morning, and on the way to the train I will send up a cure-all for low spirits. I 've something for March, too. I think he needs it." He drew his eyebrows together over the bridge of his nose and cast a sharp glance at the boy, who felt the doctor had read him.
"That means you 've got something for us," said Budd, bluntly.
"Guess Budd's hit the nail on the head this time," said Chi. "Should n't wonder if 't was some pretty lively stuff."
"You 're right there, Chi," replied the Doctor, laughing. "There 's plenty of good strong bark in it–"
Thereupon there was a shout of joy from Budd which brought Cherry's head into position at once.
"I know, I know, it's a St. Bernard puppy!"
"Oh–ee," squealed Cherry, in her delight, and forthwith put her arm through the Doctor's and squeezed it hard against her ribs.
"Guess there's a good deal of crow-foot in the other, ain't there?" said Chi, with a wink at March, who deliberately left his seat after saying, "Excuse me" most gravely to his mother, and turned a somersault in the kitchen end just to relieve his feelings. Then, with his hands in his pockets, he went up to Doctor Heath, his usually clear, pale face flushing with excitement.
"Do you mean, Doctor Heath, you 're going to give me a full-blooded Wyandotte cock?" he demanded.
"That is just what I mean, March," replied the Doctor, with great gravity, "and twelve full-blooded wives are at this moment looking in vain for a roost beside their lord and master in the express office down at Barton's River."
"Oh, glory!" cried March, wringing the Doctor's hand with both his, and then going off to execute another somersault. "You 've done it now!"
"Done what, March?" asked Doctor Heath, really touched by the boy's grateful enthusiasm.
"Made my fortune," he replied, dropping into his seat again, breathless with excitement; and to the Doctor's amazement he saw tears, actual tears, gather in the boy's eyes, before he looked down in his plate and busied himself with his baked potato.
Hazel saw them too. "What a strange boy," she thought, "and how different this is from eating my dinner all alone!" Then she slipped up to the Doctor's side with her small tray containing nothing but empty dishes, for the keen air and the sight of so many others eating and enjoying themselves had given her a good appetite.
"Are you satisfied with me now?" she said, presenting her tray.
"I should think so," he exclaimed. "Two glasses of milk, two slices of toasted brown bread, one piece of sponge cake, and a baked apple with cream! I 've gone out of business with you; my last 'tonic' is going to work well,–don't you think so?"
"I 'm sure it is," she said quietly, but there was such a depth of meaning in the sweet voice and the few words that the Doctor threw his arm around her as they rose from the table, and kept her beside him until bedtime.
At nine o'clock, Mrs. Blossom helped her to undress, and then, saying she would come back soon, left her alone in the little bedroom off the kitchen.
Hazel looked about her in amazement. This was her little room! A small single bed, looking like a snow drift, so white and feathery and high was it; one window curtained with a square of starched white cotton cloth that drew over the panes by means of a white cord on which it was run at the top; a tiny wash-stand with an old-fashioned bowl and pitcher of green and white stone-ware, and over it an old-fashioned gilt mirror; a small splint-bottomed chair and large braided rug of red woollen rags. That was all, except in one corner, where some cleats had been nailed to the ceiling and a clothes-press made by hanging from them full curtains of white cloth.
For the first time in her life, Hazel unpacked her own travelling-bag and took out the silver toilet articles with the pretty monogram. But where should she put them? No bureau, no dressing-case, no bath-room!–For a few minutes Hazel felt bewildered, then, laughing, she put them back again into her bag, and, leaving her candle in the tin candlestick on the wash-stand, she gave one leap into the middle of the high feather-bed.
Just then Mrs. Blossom returned from saying good-night to her own children. She tucked Hazel in snugly, and to the young girl's surprise, knelt by the bed saying, "Let us repeat the Lord's Prayer together, dear;" and together they said it, Hazel fearing almost the sound of her own voice. When they had finished, Mary Blossom, still kneeling, asked that Father to bless the coming of this one of His little ones into their home, and asked it in such a loving, trustful way, that Hazel's arm stole out from the coverlet and around Mrs. Blossom's neck; her head, soft and silky as a new-born baby's, cuddled to her shoulder: and when Mrs. Blossom kissed her good-night, she said suddenly, but half-timidly, "Do you say this with Rose every night?"
"Yes, dear, every night."
"And how old is Rose?"
"She will be seventeen next August."
"Do you with Budd and Cherry, too?"
"Yes, with all my children, even March and May."
"March!" exclaimed Hazel.
"Why not?" laughed his mother. "I 'm sure he needs it, as you 'll find out; now good-night, and don't get up to our early breakfast to-morrow, for the Doctor goes on the first morning train, and you 're not quite strong enough yet to do just as we do. Good-night again."
"Good-night," said Hazel, thinking she could never have enough of this kind of putting to bed.
Meanwhile March and Budd, in their bedroom over the "long-room," were discussing in half-whispers Wyandotte cocks, St. Bernard puppies, and the new-comer, for they were too excited to sleep.
Just behind March's bed, near the head, there was a large knot in the boards of the flooring, which for four years had served him many a good turn, when Budd and Cherry were planning, below in the kitchen, how they could play tricks upon him. March had carefully removed the knot, and with his eye, or ear, at the hole, he had been able, entirely to the mystification of the twins, to overthrow their conspiracies and defeat their flank movements. When his espionage was over, he replaced the knot, and no one in the household was the wiser for his private detective service.
To-day, late in the afternoon, he had taken out the knot, intending to have a view of the new arrival, unbeknown to the rest of the household; but so interested had he become in the general welcome and in the anticipation of the Doctor's gifts, that he had forgotten both to look through the hole and to replace the knot.
Hazel, too, could not sleep at first. It was all so strange, and yet she was so happy. Her thoughts were in New York, and she was already planning for a visit from her father, when suddenly she remembered that she had left the little chatelaine watch he had given her on her last birthday, lying on the settle where May had been playing with it. She must wind it regularly, that was her father's stipulation when he gave it to her. She sprang out of bed, tiptoed to the door, listened; all was still, but not wholly dark. The embers beneath the ashes in the fireplace sent a dull glow into the room. Softly she stole out; found her watch, then, half-way to her own door, stopped, startled by a voice issuing apparently from the rafters overhead. It was March, who, forgetting his open knot-hole, turned over towards the wall with a prolonged yawn and said, evidently in answer to Budd:–
"Oh, go to sleep; don't talk about her. I think she 's a perfect guy."
VI
MALACHI
It was a month after the eventful day for the Blossoms, and Saturday morning. Rose, with her sleeves rolled up above her elbows, was kneading bread and singing, as she worked:–
"'Oh, a king would have loved and left thee,
And away thy sweet love cast:
But I am thine
Whilst the stars shall shine,–
To the–last–'"
Just here, she gave the round mass of dough a toss up to the ceiling and caught it deftly on her right fist as it came down, finishing her octave with high C, while again the bread spun aloft and dropped in safety on her left fist–"to the last!"
Then she proceeded with her kneading and singing:–
"'I told thee when love was hopeless;
But now he is wild and sings–
That the stars above [up went the bread again]–
Shine ever on Love–'"
A peal of merry laughter close behind her made her jump, and the bread came down kerchunk into the kneading trough.
"Gracious, Hazel! how you frightened me! I thought you were off with Budd and Cherry."
"So I was; but they wanted me to come in and tell you there is to be a secret meeting of the N.B.B.O.O. Society in the usual place. They said you would know where it is."
"Of course I do; do you?"
"No, they would n't tell. They said it is against the rules to allow any one in who hasn't been initiated. They said they 'd initiate me, if I wanted to join."
"Well, do you want to?"
"Of course I do, if you belong," said Hazel, eagerly.
"Tell them I 'll be out after I 've put the bread to rise and cleared up; but be sure and tell them not to do anything till I come."
"Yes," cried Hazel, joyfully, skipping through the woodshed and encountering Chi with a bag of seed-beans.
"Where you goin', Lady-bird?" (This was Chi's name for her from the first day.) "Seems to me you 're gettin' over the ground pretty fast."
"The Buds" (for so Hazel had nicknamed the children) "are going to have a meeting somewhere of the N.B.B.O.O. Society, and I'm to be initiated, Chi. What does that mean?"
"Initiated, hey? Into a secret society? Well, that depends.–Sometimes it means being tossed sky-high in a blanket, and then again you 're dropped lower than the bottomless pit; and you can't most always tell beforehand which way you 're goin'."
Hazel's face fairly lost the rich color she had gained in the past month. This was more than she had bargained for.
"Oh, Chi! They would n't do such things to me!" she exclaimed in dismay.
"Well, no–I don't know as they 'd carry it that far; but those children mean mischief every time."
"But they would n't hurt me, Chi. They would n't be as mean as that; besides, Rose wouldn't let them."
"Well, I don't know as she would. But children are children, and Rose ain't grown any wings yet."
"Was Rose initiated?" was Hazel's next rather anxious question.
"Yes, she was," said Chi, taking up a handful of beans and letting them run through his fingers into the open bag.
"How do you know, Chi?"
"Coz I initiated her myself."
"You, Chi? Why, do you belong?"
"First member of the N.B.B.O.O. Society."
"Well, that's funny. Who initiated you?"
Chi set down the bag of beans, and for a moment shook with laughter; then, growing perfectly sober, he said solemnly:–
"I initiated myself. But they was all on hand when I did it."
"What did you do, Chi?"
"Just hear her!" said Chi to himself, but aloud, he said, "I 'll tell you this much, if it is a secret society. They try 'n' see what stuff you 're made of."
"'Sugar and spice
And all that's nice,
That's what little girls are made of,'"
Hazel interrupted, singing merrily.
"There was n't much 'sugar 'n' spice' in that Rose Blossom when she put me to the test. You ain't heard a screech-owl yet; but when you do, you'll come running home to find out whose bein' killed in the woods."
Hazel looked at him half in fear, but Chi went on stolidly:–
"'N' those children told me I 'd got to go up into the woods at twelve o'clock at night, when the screech-owls was yellin' bloody murder, to show I wasn't scairt of nothin'; 'n' I went."
"Oh, Chi, was n't it awful?"
"Kinder scarey; but they gave me the dinner horn 'n' told me to blow a blast on that when I was up there, so they 'd hear, 'n' know I was clear into the woods; for they was all on hand watchin' from the back attic window–what they could in a pitch-black night–to see if I 'd back down."
"And you did n't, Chi?" said Hazel, eagerly.
"You bet I did n't, 'n' I brought home an old screecher just to prove I was game."
"How did you catch him, Chi?"
Chi clapped his hands on his knees, and shook with laughter; then he grew perfectly sober:–
"I took a dark lantern along with me, just to kind of feel my way in the woods–but the children did n't know about that–'n' when an old screecher gave a blood-curdlin' yell, just as near my right ear as the engine down on the track when you 're standin' at the depot at Barton's River,–just then I turned on the light full tilt, and the feller sat right still on the branch, kind of dazed like, 'n' I took him just as easy as I 'd take a hen off the roost after dark, 'n' brought him home. 'N' just as I was goin' up into the attic in the dark, the shed stairs' way, 'n' the children was all listenin' at the top in the dark, the dummed bird gave such a screech that the children all tumbled over one another tryin' to get back to their beds, 'n' such screamin' 'n' hollerin' you never heard–the bird was n't in it."
Again Chi laughed at the recollection, and Hazel joined him.
"Did they make you do anything more, Chi?"
"By George Washin'ton! I should think they did," said Chi, soberly. "That last was March's idea, but Rose went him one more."
"What could Rose think of worse than that?" demanded Hazel.
"Well, she did. She blindfolded my eyes 'n' took me by the hand, 'n' turned me round 'n' round till I was most dizzy; 'n' then she gave me a rope, 'n' she took one end of it 'n' made me take the other, 'n' kept leadin' me 'n' leadin' me, 'n' the children all caperin' round me, screamin' 'n' laughin'. Pretty soon–I calculated I 'd walked about a quarter of a mile–the rope grew slack; all of a sudden the laughin' 'n' screamin' stopped, 'n' I–walked right off the bank into the big pool down under the pines, ker–splash! 'n' the children, after they 'd got me in, was so scairt for fear I 'd lose my breath–I could n't drown coz there was n't more than five feet of water in it–that they hauled on the rope with all their might, 'n' pulled me out; 'n' I let 'em pull," said Chi, grimly.
"I hope they were satisfied after that," said Hazel, soberly.
"They appeared to be," said Chi, contentedly, "for they said I should be president, coz I was so brave. But there 's other things harder to do than that."
"What are they, Chi?"
"You 've got to keep the by-laws."
"What are those?"
"Rules of the Society. One of 'em 's, you must n't be afraid to tell the truth. 'N' another is, you must be scairt to tell a lie."
Hazel grew scarlet at her own thoughts.
"Another is, to help other folks all you can; 'n' the fourth 'n' last is, that no boy or girl as lives in this great, free country of ours ought to be a coward."
Hazel drew a long breath.
"Those must be hard to keep."
"Well, they ain't always easy, that's a fact; but they re mighty good to live by," he added, picking up the bean-bag. "I lived with Ben Blossom's father when I was a little chap as chore boy, 'n' he gave me my schoolin' 'n' clothes; 'n' I 've lived with his son ever since he was married, 'n' he's been the best friend a man could have, 'n' I 've always got along with him in peace and lovin'-kindness; 'n' those four by-laws his father wrote on my boyhood; 'n' by those four by-laws I 've kept my manhood; 'n' so I think it 'll do anybody good to join the Society."
"Well," said Hazel, stoutly, "I 'll show them I 'm not afraid of some things, if I did run away from the turkey-gobbler."
"That's right," said Chi, heartily, "'n' more than that–betwixt you 'n' me–you 've no cause to be scairt whatever they do; now mark my words, whatever they do," repeated Chi, emphatically.
"I don't care what they do so long as you 're there, Chi," said Hazel, looking up into his weather-roughened, deeply-lined face with such utter trust in her great eyes that Chi caught up the bag over his shoulder and hurried out to the barn, muttering to himself:–
"George Washin'ton! How she manages to creep into the softest corner of a man's heart, I don't know; I expect it's those great eyes of hers, 'n' that voice just like a brook winnerin' 'n' gurglin' over its stones in August.–Guess there's luck come to this house with Lady-bird!" And he went about his work.