Kathie's Soldiers Part 15

"DO you think we could go to Middleville to-day?" Kathie asked, one bright Sat.u.r.day morning.

It was a sharp, keen winter's day, but the roads had been worn tolerably smooth with the sleighing, and it was by far too cold for alternate freezing and thawing; but the sky was of a clear, steely blue, and the sun as brilliant as a midwinter's sun could be.

"If you did not mind the cold. What is your opinion, Dora?"--turning to Mrs. Alston.

"I suppose you could stand it if you were wrapped up good and warm."

"Would you take the buggy?" asked Aunt Ruth.

"O yes!" answered Kathie, eagerly; "I cannot bear to be shut up in a close prison, as if I was being taken off somewhere for my misdeeds."

"It will be a good deal colder."

Uncle Robert laughed as he met Kathie's mirthful eyes.

"I shall not freeze, auntie. I like the sensation of this strong, fresh wind blowing square into my face; it takes the cobwebs out of my brains."

So the ponies had orders, and p.r.i.c.ked up their ears as if they were rather interested in trying the bracing wind as well.

Kathie bundled herself up quite to mamma's liking. She slipped a little parcel under the seat,--two books that she had read time and again, and which she fancied might interest Sarah, and a few other little matters, the giving of which depended upon circ.u.mstances.

They said good by, and were off. "Up in the mountains" was always spoken of rather sneeringly by the Brookside community. They really were not mountains, but a succession of rough, rocky hills, where the vegetation was neither lovely nor abundant. Several different species of cedar, scrubby oaks, and stunted hemlocks, were the princ.i.p.al variety, with a matted growth of underbrush; and as there were many finer "woods" around Brookside, these were seldom haunted by pleasure-lovers or wonder-seekers.

The dwellers therein were of the oldest-fas.h.i.+oned kind. You could always tell them when they came to shop at Brookside by their queer bonnets and out-of-date garments, as well as by the wonderful contrast of colors. But the small settlements enjoyed their own manner of living and their own social pleasures as thoroughly as their more refined neighbors.

For quite a stretch the road was level and good, then the ascent began, the houses were wider apart, and with an air of indifference as to paint and repairs, while fences seemed to be vainly trying to hold each other up.

The ponies were fresh and frisky, and did not mind the tug. Kathie was silent for the most part, her brain in a kind of floating confusion, not at all unpleasant, but rather restful.

"Now, which is the back road, I wonder?" said Uncle Robert, slowly, checking the horses a trifle.

Both roads were exceedingly dreary-looking, but they decided to take the one farther north, and before they had gone a quarter of a mile they met a team, driven by a young lad.

"Is this Middleville?" asked Uncle Robert.

"Yes."

"Which is the back road?"

"Keep straight along. You're right."

"Where does Mr. Jotham Strong live?"

"Over there in that yaller house," the boy answered, nodding his head.

The place began to take on quite a village look. There was a brown, weather-beaten meeting-house, a small country store, and houses scattered around at intervals. Some were quite tidy-looking, but the most had a kind of dilapidated air.

Mr. Strong's was large and roomy on the ground-floor, as numerous additions had been made on three sides of the building. There was a door-yard in front, where in summer they must have an abundance of roses, and two wide flower-beds down the path. Such signs went to Kathie's heart at once.

Uncle Robert sprang out and knocked at the door. The hard-featured face that Kathie remembered so well in connection with the purple bonnet peered through the kitchen window.

The child would have laughed at the commotion inside, if she could have seen it,--how Sary Ann dragged the floating ends of her hair into a knot, caught up a towel and wiped her face, making it redder than before, jerked down her sleeves, which, having neither hooks nor b.u.t.tons, hung round her wrists.

She stared as she opened the door to a strange man, but glanced past him to the carriage.

"I have brought Miss Kathie Alston up to see you," Mr. Conover announced, in his warm, cheerful voice, for he recognized Sarah from Kathie's graphic description.

"O my! and I'm all in a heap; but I'm so glad!" and she ran out to the wagon, but stopped at the gate with a sudden sensation of bashfulness, and a wonder if she ought not to have said something more to the gentleman.

"How do you do, Sarah?" Kathie's voice was like the softest of silver bells pealing on the frosty air.

"O, I'm so glad! I didn't hardly believe you'd come. I looked last Sat'day. Your letter was so nice. I'm glad you liked the lichen. Jim and me hunted over hundreds of 'em, and found the very biggest. Do get out and come in the house; you must be perished! Is that the uncle you wrote about in your letter?"

"Yes." Uncle Robert had come down the path by this time. "My uncle, Mr.

Conover," Kathie said, gracefully, "and Miss Sarah Strong."

Sarah made a dash at her hair again as if she was afraid of its tumbling down, and courtesied to Uncle Robert so in the style of a country school-girl that he smiled inwardly. "O, coax her to get out!" she exclaimed, appealingly. "I've got a fire all ready to light in the best room, and I want you to see my pictures,"--with a very long emphasis on the last syllable. "Mother 'xpects you to stay to dinner, and my Sat'day's work is 'most done. Come in,--do."

By this time Mrs. Strong had made herself tidy and appeared at the hall door.

"Come in," she exclaimed, cordially,--"come in. Sary Ann, show the gentleman how to drive right down to the barn. Jim's there thras.h.i.+n' and he'll see to the hosses!"

Kathie was handed out. Sarah turned the horses to face the path to the barn.

"Down there," she said. "Steve, come here!"

Steve, thirteen or thereabout, sheepishly obeyed, and took the rest of his sister's order in silence.

"Don't you go," said Mrs. Strong to Mr. Conover. "There's boys enough to the barn, and they know all about hosses. Come in an' get warm. You must be about froze! I'm right glad to see you, child."

Kathie introduced Uncle Robert again. They were marshalled into a large, uncarpeted kitchen, full of youngsters, with a great red-hot stove in their midst.

"Get out of the way, childern! Sary Ann, run light the fire in the parlor while they're gettin' warm."

"It is not worth while to take that trouble," returned Uncle Robert. "We came up for a call, but judged it best to take the pleasantest part of such a cold day. So do not let us interfere with your usual arrangements."

"You ain't a goin' to stir a step until after dinner. Sary'll be awful disapp'inted. We've plenty of everything, and you won't put us out a bit. We've been looking for you, like, ever sence Sary Ann had her letter. Take off your things, child! Ain't your feet half froze?"

"O no."

There was no resisting, however. Mrs. Strong talked and worked, tumbled over the children, picked them up and set them on chairs, bidding them keep out of the way, insisted that Kathie should sit beside the roasting stove, and presently Sarah returned. She had brushed her hair into a more respectable shape, and tied a most unnecessary scarlet ribbon in it, seeing that the hair was of a sandy reddish color.

But her clean calico dress certainly did improve her. Yet as she entered the room she was seized with a fit of awkward bashfulness.

"I believe I will go out and look at the ponies," remarked Mr. Conover.

"Mind they're put out. You're not going to stir a step till you've had your dinner. Marthy, you peel them taters; quick now." This to a rather pretty girl of ten, who had been writing with a pin on the steamed window-pane.

"Come in the other room," said Sarah to Kathie.