A Young Mutineer Part 10

"Then I'll take Babs upstairs," said Jasper. "Put your arms tightly round my neck, you quaint monkey, and I'll race up to your room with you."

"Hilda," said Judy, the moment the door had closed behind the two, "I haven't given you my present yet."

"My darling," said Hilda, "when we love as you and I love each other, presents mean nothing--nothing at all. I know you have no money, dearest little Judy and I think it was so sweet of you not to ask for any. Your present to me is your thoughtfulness; no gift could be sweeter."

"Hilda, may I rest my head against your shoulder?"

"Of course, darling. Now aren't we cozy?"

"We are; I feel warm now, and--and happy. I won't be able to sit like this for a long time again."

"Yes you will, for you're coming to stay with us; as soon as ever we get into our house, or our flat, or wherever we shall live, you are to come.

One of the very first rooms I shall furnish will be your little bedroom, my Judy."

"And then I can sit close to you every night. But oh, Hilda, _he'll_ be there, he won't like it."

"Yes, he will; he'll like anything that I like. There is an old proverb that I must repeat for your benefit--'Love me, love my dog.' That means that those whom I love you ought to love."

"Ought I? Very well, I'll try to love--Jasper. Anything that you say I'll try to do. Hilda, why does loving a person give pain? I have an ache in my heart--a big ache. There now, what a horrid girl I am! I am making your eyes fill with tears. You shan't be unhappy just when you're going to be made into a beautiful white bride. Sutton says it is unlucky for a bride to cry. You shan't cry, Hilda, you shan't--you mustn't."

"But I can't help crying, Judy, when I think that you are unhappy, and when you speak of your love to me as a pain."

"I'll never speak of it again. I'll be happy--I won't fret--no, I won't fret at all, and I won't cry even once," said the child, making a valiant effort to bring a smile to her face. "Hilda, will you promise me something very, very solemnly?"

"If it is in my power I certainly will, my pet."

"You have not got my wedding present yet, Hilda; but it is coming.

Promise me----"

"What, darling?"

"Promise to take it to church with you to-morrow--I'll give it to you just before church--it will be full of me--my very heart will be in it--take it to church with you, Hilda, and hold it in your hand when you're giving yourself to Jasper--promise--promise."

"How excited you are, my dearest! If it makes you really happy to know that I shall hold something of yours in my hand when I am being married, I will certainly do so."

"Oh, it does make me happy, it does!"

CHAPTER VII.

A WEDDING PRESENT.

But my lover will not prize All the glory that he rides in, When he gazes in my face: He will say: "O Love, thine eyes Build the shrine my soul abides in, And I kneel here for thy grace!"

--E. BARRETT BROWNING.

There was a holly tree not far from the church with berries so red and leaves so green and s.h.i.+ning that it was generally denuded of its beauties to decorate the most important parts of the church.

Judy knew this holly tree well. It had been much crippled in shape and color for the Christmas decorations, but one perfect branch had been left where the berries still grew in full rich cl.u.s.ters--this special branch had not been noticed by the gardener when he was cutting the holly for Christmas, and Judy determined that from it she would pick the crimson berries which were to const.i.tute Hilda's wedding present.

"Barnes," she said to the old gardener the day before, "you mustn't allow anyone to touch my bough of holly."

"Well, Miss Judy, you're a queer child; what bough of holly do you mean?"

"The bough on the round tree near the church. I want it most particular badly; you won't let anyone pick it--will you, Barnes?"

"No, that I won't," said Barnes, good-naturedly; and Judy, quite satisfied and happy in her mind, ran away.

On the wedding morning, just when the day broke, she got softly, very softly out of bed. Babs was having happy dreams at the moment, for smiles were flitting across her face and her lips were moving. Judy, heavy-eyed and pale, rose from her broken slumbers and proceeded to dress herself. She must go out now to fetch her holly bough. She could dress herself nicely; and putting on a warm jacket she ran downstairs and let herself out into the foggy, frosty air. She was warmly clad as to her head and throat, but she had not considered it necessary to put on her out-door boots. The boots took a long time to lace, and as she did not expect to be absent from the house more than ten or twelve minutes, she did not think it worth while to go to this trouble.

She ran swiftly now, her heart beating with a certain pleasurable excitement. It was so nice to be able to make a beautiful, quaint wedding present out of the red berries and the glistening leaves and the little note full of love hiding away in their depths. How delighted Hilda would be by and by to open that note and to read some of Judy's innermost thoughts.

"Even though she has Jasper, she loves me," thought the child. "She will know _something_ of what I think of her, the darling, when she has read my note."

The little letter, written on a tiny pink sheet of paper, was put away all ready in Judy's drawer; she had but to cut the bough of holly and her unique wedding present would be almost ready. She reached the tree, having to go to it through long gra.s.s heavy with h.o.a.r frost. Her stockings and feet were already very wet, but she thought nothing of this fact in her excitement. She had a small knife in her pocket which she proceeded to take out in order to cut the bough away--it grew low down and she had to pull the gra.s.s aside to look for it.

Alack, and alas! where was it, who had taken it? Had wicked, wicked Barnes been faithless? There was a torn gash on the trunk of the tree, and no long bough red with berries was anywhere to be seen.

Poor little Judy could not help uttering a cry of anguish. Hot anger against Barnes swelled up in her heart. Miss Mills was in reality the culprit. Knowing nothing of Judy's desire, she had cut the bough late the night before for some window decoration.

"I won't go back to the house until I get some holly," thought the child. She wiped away her fast-falling tears and set her sharp little wits to work. This was the most scarce time in the whole winter for holly berries, the greater number of them having been used for church and Christmas decorations; but Judy, whose keen eyes noticed Nature in all her aspects, suddenly remembered that on the borders of a lake nearly a mile away grew another holly tree--a small and unremarkable bush which might yet contain sufficient bright berries for her purpose.

Without an instant's hesitation she determined to walk that mile and reach that tree. She must go quickly if she would be back before anyone noticed her. She was particularly anxious that her gift should not be seen in advance. Running, racing, and scrambling she effected her purpose, reached the tree, secured some berries and leaves, and returned to the house wet through and very tired.

Babs was rubbing her eyes and stretching her limbs in her snug bed in the nursery when her sister came back.

"Oh, Judy, what have you been doing?" she exclaimed, sitting up and staring in round-eyed astonishment.

"Hush, Babs," said Judy, "don't speak for a moment--don't say a single word until I have locked the door."

"But you oughtn't to lock the door. Miss Mills doesn't wish it."

"I am going to disobey her."

"But you'll be punished."

"I don't care."

The key was turned in the lock, and Judy, going over to Babs' bed, exhibited her spoils.

"See," she said, "here's my wedding present."

"Did you go to fetch those holly berries this morning?" asked Babs.

"Yes, I did, and I had to go a long way for them too; that horrid, wicked old Barnes had cut away my bough, and I had to go all the way to the lake."

"Your feet do look so sloppy and wet."