ALONE IN THE WOOD.

Her flowers safe in the water, the little girl seated herself on a stone that seemed made purposely for her, it was cushioned so softly with moss; and overhead the boughs of the great trees bent towards her, and rustled and waved like so many fans, and shut her in so closely from the rest of the wood that you might have pa.s.sed close by, and never guessed she was there.

The kitten went fast asleep in her lap, and Violet, folding her hands, looked up among the leaves, and across where the boughs parted a little into the wood, and down at her feet, where the gra.s.s grew so long and fine, and was sprinkled over with such pretty little leaves--as tiny, some of them, as Violet's finger nails, and yet as beautifully scolloped or pointed, and as perfectly finished, as the stoutest laurel or broadest oak leaf in the wood; and, noticing this, Violet wondered if G.o.d, who had taken as much pains in making little leaves as big ones, had not taken as much pains with, and didn't care as much for, little _people_ as big ones.

Who knew but he loved her, in her ragged dress, just as well as Narcissa in all her finery, or even the tall, rich doctor, who tried to mend Toady's leg?

Then she listened, and felt how still it was there alone with the trees; and the sweet, low sounds that came through this stillness were beautiful as music.

Far off she could hear the cool, sparkling brook foaming and hurrying over its stony bed; and then the air came breathing through the trees, as if they sighed for joy; and each leaf trembled, and seemed rising to meet the air and fly away with it, and then, falling back again, nestled closer to its neighbor leaves, and whispered softly, as if it were making love to them.

But there came a louder rustling among the boughs, and a flutter of wings, and then burst forth a clear, wild song, so near that Violet held her breath; for a golden oriole had alighted close beside her, and chirped, and twittered, and trilled, as if he meant to say aloud what the leaves and the brook had been whispering.

When he paused, the leaves all clapped their hands for more; and oriole understood them, for he gave another and another song, waiting between each to wet his bill in some bunch of bright, juicy berries.

Violet did not suspect that the reason the sunshine looked so bright, and the shadows so cool and refreshing, and the leaves and brook so wide awake and so musical, was because the good fairies Love and Contentment were watching over her; and the beautiful purple light from Love's wings, and from Contentment's starry crown, and the fragrance from her lily urn, would make any, the dullest place, bright.

But as the bird flew away, Fairy Love whispered inside of Violet's heart, "The bird has gone to her nest. Isn't it time for Violet to be thinking about _her_ nest, and the good mother, who will be there first if she does not make haste and run home?"

Love's voice was lower than the whisper of the leaves or the far-off murmur of the brook; but the little girl heard and obeyed it for all that.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE KITTEN'S BATH.

Violet had picked a whole ap.r.o.n full of leaves, reaching up in the trees for the largest and handsomest, and then, kneeling where they grew close to the ground, had collected the lovely, delicate ones that were so small you would not notice unless you were looking for them--broad, shining oak leaves, long, graceful chestnut leaves, and some from the fluttering poplar, and some from the hemlocks and pines, tall ferns, and maiden's-hair, and gra.s.s, clover, sorrel, ground pine, and hundreds more.

Violet had been counting how many kinds there were; and as I have forgotten, the first time you go into the woods you must try yourself, and lay them side by side, as she did, to see which is prettiest.

But away flew all the leaves, as, directly she heard Love's voice, the little girl sprang to her feet, waking puss out of her nap so suddenly that she spit, and put up her back, and her hair stood all on end with fright.

Then you might have heard Violet's laughter ringing merrily enough through the silent wood.

Such an unusual noise startled a whole flock of crows, where, hid in a tall pine tree, they had, like p.u.s.s.y, been taking a nap, and scolded well because they were awakened.

Violet wondered if it would help the matter to make such a noise about it with their hoa.r.s.e voices, which sounded as if they were made on purpose to scold--so grating and shrill.

She went to the brook for her flowers, while the kitten followed, gaping such great gapes that Violet told her she'd better take care, or she wouldn't be able to close her mouth again. And looking back among the trees, as she climbed the stone wall and was going out into the sunshine again, Violet wondered if G.o.d _could_ have made that beautiful place for no one but her; no one else entered it, she knew.

"I guess G.o.d thinks it's no matter how small I am, so long as I'm large enough to love it all," she thought; and I don't believe Violet was wrong.

As they went home, a great cricket flew from under the kitten's feet and frightened her again, for she was hardly awake. Away she sprang to catch it, and away sprang the cricket, while Violet had to run fast to keep up with them, laughing to see how puzzled puss would be when the cricket hid under the long gra.s.s; and while she was pawing, and purring, and looking up to Violet as if she'd ask, "Where is he?" out he'd spring again, directly past her nose, and in among the gra.s.s would hide, and peep at her, while she looked every where but in the right place.

At last, in her eagerness, the kitten jumped rather too far, and went into the brook; and in her fright I don't know what would have happened next if Violet had not seized her just as, mewing and trembling, the water was washing her down stream.

She lapped Violet's face and purred as the little girl tried to dry her fur and warm her again in her bosom; but she was a wilful puss, and preferred creeping along in the sunshine, shaking each of her four paws at every step in the drollest fashion. But she didn't chase any more crickets _that_ day.

This affair of the kitten's, and waiting to look for her berries, which Violet had hid among the bushes so safely she could not find them herself at first, delayed her so long that she almost flew the rest of the way; for when the old people went to market with their goods, they always came home tired and hungry, and were very glad of a cup of warm tea.

So she did not stop flying until a fire was made and the table set; and just then she heard voices at the door.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE PRICE OF TOADY'S LEG.

Reuben and Mary had come; and glad enough Violet was to see them; but this, like all her days, had been so long that she forgot to say a word about her flowers and the gilded cup; she could not remember back to the morning, until her mother asked if she knew whose birthday this was; and then it all came back, and she gave more thanks and kisses than there had been flowers in the cup.

"But why is it empty?" asked Reuben.

And Violet told about the carriage, and Narcissa, and Toady's misfortune, and the kind doctor, who had waited to mend the mischief his daughter had done, and how he took her violets, leaving money in their stead.

You should have seen the old people hold up their hands when Violet showed them the coin she had only looked upon as so many bright stones.

Their marketing had not sold as well as usual, and the winter was to be a hard one for poor people, every one said; and they had been telling each other, as they came home, that if Providence had not taken care of them so well thus far, they should certainly expect to starve now.

And here stood Violet with six silver dollars! They could hardly believe their eyes. Some fairy must have given it to the child.

True enough, old Reuben--the fairy LOVE!

The rich doctor might have given six times as much, and never have felt the loss enough to remember it. But I cannot tell you how many comforts his money procured for the poor old people.

Mary had a new warm gown, and Reuben a pair of rubbers and some flannel, and Violet a blanket shawl, and what was left they spent in tea, rice, flour, and mola.s.ses.

Every afternoon, when the old lady sat down to sew that winter, feeling warmer than she had for many a cold month, and seeing so beautifully, too, from the light that came in at a new window they had bought for the hut where they lived, Mary would bless the rich man, and the good child G.o.d had given her.

And every time Reuben waded through the snow towards town, and did not wet his feet, nor come home with rheumatism, as he used to the winter before, he, too, would think of the rich man, and thank G.o.d for his little daughter, and wonder if ever _any_ one had so many blessings as he.

Violet too, with her thick, warm shawl, could go to the district school; and very soon she learned more out of books than Reuben and Mary had known in all their lives.

CHAPTER XIX.

GOING TO SCHOOL.

Violet's years were like her days--busy and joyous; for they were spent in making all about her happy, and in finding new wonder and beauty in the world.

Winter evenings she would sit on her cricket at the old people's feet, and amuse them by telling her adventures on the way to and from school, or the wonderful things she had learned there.