All this came back to Hildegarde, as she stood on the piazza; and as she recalled the softened, friendly look in the old man's eyes as he bade her good-by, she said again to herself, "This is the happiest day of my life!" The next day would not be so happy, for Rose and Bubble were going,--one to her home at Hartley's Glen, the other to his school in New York; and in a fortnight she must herself be turning her face homeward.

How short the summer had been!--had there ever been such a flying season?--and yet she had done very little; she had only been happy, and enjoyed herself. Miss Wealthy, perhaps, could have told another story,--of kind deeds and words; of hours spent in reading aloud, in winding wools, in arranging flowers, in the thousand little helpfulnesses by which a girl can make herself beloved and necessary in a household. To the gentle, dreamy, delicate Rose, Hildegarde had really _been_ the summer. Without this strong arm always round her, this strong sunny nature, helping, cheering, amusing, how could she have come out of the life-long habits of invalidism, and learned to face the world standing on both feet? She could not have done it, Rose felt; and with this feeling, she probably would not have done it.

But, as I said, Hildegarde knew nothing of this. She had been happy, that was all. And though she was going to her own beloved home, and to the parents who were the greater part of the world to her, still she would be sorry to leave this happiness even for a completer one.

But hark! was that the sound of wheels? Yes; they were coming.

"Cousin Wealthy!" cried the girl, running to the door. "Rose! Bubble!

Martha! Mrs. Brett! Benny! Come out, all of you! The stage is here!"

Out they came, all running, all out of breath, save Miss Wealthy, who knew the exact number of steps that would bring her to the exact middle of the piazza, and took these steps with her usual gentle precision of movement. She had no sooner taken up the position which she felt to be the proper one for her, than round the corner came the Bywood stage,--a long, lumbering, ramshackle vehicle, in which sat Mrs. Murray, a kind-looking nurse, and the twelve convalescent children who were to have the first delights of the Country Home.

At sight of them Bubble began to wave his hat violently. "Hooray!" he shouted. "Three cheers for the young uns!"

"Hooray!" echoed Benny, flapping his hands about, as he had no hat to wave.

The children set up a feeble shout in reply, and waved heads, arms, and legs indiscriminately. Then ensued a scene of joyous confusion. The little ones were lifted out, kissed, and welcomed; their bundles followed; and for a few minutes the quiet place was filled with a very Babel of voices.

High above them all rose the clarion tones of Benny, explaining to a former fellow-patient his present position in life. "I don't lives here!" he said; "I lives a little way off. I's ve boy of ve house where I lives, and I takes care of a whole lot of womenfolks, and Jim Maria helps me, and vere's anover boy who does fings for me. It's bully, and I'm goin' to stay vere all my life long."

Mrs. Murray looked quickly at Miss Wealthy. "Does he know of his mother's death?" she asked in a low tone.

"No!" replied Miss Wealthy. "He has almost forgotten her, poor little lad! I fear she was not very kind to him. And I have decided to keep him, Mrs. Murray, and to give him a happy childhood, and then send him to a good school. He is a most lovable child, and it will be a privilege to have him, especially as my dear young relative is to leave me soon."

Both looked instinctively toward Hildegarde, who was standing, flushed and radiant, the centre of a group of children, who cl.u.s.tered round her, pulling at her hands and clinging to her gown.

"What's the name of this place?" one little fellow was asking her. "I like this place! What is its name?"

"It is called Joyous Gard!" replied Hildegarde. "That was the name of a beautiful castle, long and long ago, which belonged to a very brave knight; and we think it will be a good name for your Country Home, because we mean to make it full of joy and happiness, and yet to guard you well in it. So Joyous Gard it is to be. Say it now, all of you,--'Joyous Gard!'"

And "Joyous Gard!" shouted the children, their voices echoing merrily among the trees, and spreading away, till Rose, the romantic, wondered if some faint tone of it might not reach a pale shade called Lancelot du Lake, and bring him comfort where he sorrowed for his sins.

So in Joyous Gard let us leave our Hildegarde,--in each hand a child, around her many loving hearts, in her own heart great joy and light and love. Let us leave her, and wish that all girls might know the cheer and happiness that was hers, not for that day only, but through all her days.

THE END.

Selections from L. C. Page & Company's Books for Young People

THE BLUE BONNET SERIES

=A TEXAS BLUE BONNET=

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS.

=BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY=

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND EDYTH ELLERBECK READ.

=BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON=

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.

=BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE=

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.

=BLUE BONNET--DeBUTANTE=

By LELA HORN RICHARDS.

=BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS=

By LELA HORN RICHARDS.

=BLUE BONNET'S FAMILY=

By LELA HORN RICHARDS.

"Blue Bonnet has the very finest kind of wholesome, honest, lively girlishness and cannot but make friends with every one who meets her through these books about her."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._

"Blue Bonnet and her companions are real girls, the kind that one would like to have in one's home."--_New York Sun._

THE

HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES

By Laura E. Richards

Queen Hildegarde Hildegarde's Holiday Hildegarde's Home Hildegarde's Neighbors Hildegarde's Harvest Three Margarets Margaret Montfort Peggy Rita Fernley House The Merryweathers