Mr. Pat's Little Girl Part 5

"Well, I think a fellow has a right to sigh when he can't do anything or go anywhere; and everybody else is having a good time," Maurice felt anxious to vindicate himself.

"I am not having a good time," said Rosalind, "at least not very; but then you know if you stay in the Forest of Arden, something pleasant is bound to happen before long."

Maurice stared at her blankly.

"Perhaps you don't know the story," Rosalind suggested.

"What story?"

"Its real name is 'As You Like It,' but I call it 'The Story of the Forest.'"

"What is it about?"

"Oh,--about a banished duke, who lived in the Forest, like Robin Hood, you know, with a lot of people who were fond of him. He had a daughter, named Rosalind, and after a while she was banished too and went to look for her father in the Forest. Her cousin Celia and a funny clown, Touchstone, went with her, and they were all disguised. And--well, there is a great deal more to it--but they were all cheerful and brave--everybody is in the Forest of Arden, because they are sure there is good in everything if you only try to find it."

"But that is all a story. It isn't true."

"Oh, yes, it is."

"There wasn't a bit of good in hurting my knee and having the whole summer spoiled." Maurice's tone was undeniably fretful.

"If you had been banished as Rosalind was, I suppose you would not have thought there was any good in that; but she didn't cry about it. She made the best of it, and had a good time in spite of it."

"Who says I was crying?" Maurice demanded angrily.

Rosalind opened her gray eyes wide, then she sat up and tossed back her hair. Maurice felt convicted of rudeness. Was she going? He hoped not, for he wished to talk to her.

"I suppose I am rather cross," he acknowledged; "but don't you think it is pretty hard to hurt your knee and have to walk with a crutch, and stay at home when the other boys go fis.h.i.+ng?"

"Yes, indeed. Does it hurt much?" Rosalind asked, with ready sympathy.

"No, not now; it did at first, but the doctor says it will be five or six months before it is well again."

"Then it isn't for always? That is something good."

Maurice somehow felt uncomfortable. He did not wish the emphasis laid on the good. It seemed wise to change the subject. "What a lot of hair you have," he remarked.

"It has been washed, and grandmamma said I might dry it in the sun,"

Rosalind explained, shaking her head so vigorously she was enveloped in a s.h.i.+ning cloud.

"Isn't it a great bother? Kit hates to have hers braided."

"Who is Kit?"

"She is my sister Katherine."

"It must be nice to have a sister. I haven't anybody but father and Cousin Louis, and of course they are better than any one else. There are grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve, but I am not very well acquainted with them yet. I should love to have some children related to me."

I have a little sister, too; her name is Blossom. That is, her real name is Mary, and we call her Blossom."

"Kit and Blossom; and what is your name?" Rosalind asked.

"Maurice Roberts."

Rosalind tossed back her hair and began to twist it into a s.h.i.+ning rope.

"I am Rosalind Whittredge," she said. "I should not think you would ever be unhappy," she added.

"Do you know, I saw you last Sunday when you were studying something. Kit and I peeped at you through the hedge."

"I was learning a hymn for grandmamma. Why didn't you speak to me?"

"I didn't know whether you'd like it."

"Why, of course I should have liked it. I was beginning to think that day I should never get acquainted with any one, and I was feeling dreadfully lonesome when the magician came in."

"The magician?" Maurice exclaimed. Certainly this was a singular girl who talked about magicians in an everyday tone.

Rosalind laughed. "I mean Morgan, who does cabinet work. Do you know him?"

"Everybody in Friends.h.i.+p knows Morgan. He is a good fellow, too. Why do you call him the magician?"

"Because that is what father called him when he was a little boy. Once when Morgan had made an old desk look like new, grandfather said he was a magician, and father, who heard him, thought he meant it really. Father and Uncle Allan used to play in his shop and talk on their fingers to him.

Can you do that?"

"Why, yes; I'll teach you if you like."

"I should like it very much. It is so tiresome to write things."

"Morgan is very clever, too, about understanding. You only begin to spell a word when he guesses what you want to say," Maurice added.

"I went to his shop the other day with Miss Herbert, but she wouldn't let me stay long. I made friends with his funny dog."

"Do you know what we call him? Curly Q. And the cat--did you see him? He is Crisscross."

"How funny," said Rosalind. "I think they are very good names. Crisscross wouldn't have anything to do with me."

"Are you going to live here?" Maurice asked.

"No; but I shall be here a long time. I think Friends.h.i.+p is a nice place, and funny too, because it has a bank with a garden around it. At home our banks are all on the street and have offices over them."

"Yes; Friends.h.i.+p isn't a city," Maurice acknowledged apologetically. "I should like to live in a big city."

"I like Friends.h.i.+p. It only seems a little odd, you know," Rosalind hastened to add. "Do they ever let you go into the bank part of your house?"

"Why, of course, I can go in whenever I choose. My father is the cas.h.i.+er, and it is to take care of the bank that we live here."

The conversation was brought to an end by a maid sent to find Rosalind.

After she had gone Maurice saw a book on the gra.s.s where she had been lying, and reaching through the hedge with his crutch, he drew it toward him. When he removed the outside cover, even his uncritical eye saw it was a handsome hook. "Shakespeare's 'As You Like It.' Edited by Louis A.