ildegarde passed back through the long
room where the sick children lay, Benny woke from his nap, and shouted,
"Sing-girl! _my_ sing-girl! come back soon!"

So, half laughing and half crying, Hildegarde passed out, her heart very
full of painful pleasure.

CHAPTER X.

THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD.

Rose was wonderfully better. Every day in the clear, bracing air of
Bywood seemed to bring fresh vigor to her frame, fresh color to her
cheeks. She began to take regular walks, instead of strolling a little
way, leaning on her friend's stronger arm. Together the girls explored
all the pleasant places of the neighborhood, which were many; hunted for
rare ferns, with tin plant-boxes hanging from their belts, or stalked
the lonely cardinal-flower, as it nodded over some woodland brook. Often
they took the little boat, and made long expeditions down the pleasant
river,--Hildegarde rowing, Rose couched at her ease in the stern. Once
they came to the mouth of a stream which they pleased themselves by
imagining to be unknown to mankind. Dipping the oars gently, Hildegarde
drew the boat on and on, between high, dark banks of hemlock and pine
and white birch. Here were cardinal-flowers, more than they had ever
seen before, rank behind rank, all crowding down to the water's edge to
see their beauty mirrored in the clear, dark stream. They were too
beautiful to pick. But Hildegarde took just one, as a memento, and even
for that one the spirit of the enchanted place seemed to be angered; for
there was a flash of white barred wings, a loud shrill cry, and they
caught the gleam of two fierce black eyes, as something whirred past
them across the stream, and vanished in the woods beyond.

"Oh! what was it?" cried Hildegarde. "Have we done a dreadful thing?"

"Only a kingfisher!" said Rose, laughing. "But I don't believe we ought
to have picked his flower. This is certainly a fairy place! Move on, or
he may cast a spell over us, and we shall turn into two black stones."

One day, however, they had a stranger adventure than that of the Halcyon
Stream, as they named the mysterious brook. They had been walking in the
woods; and Rose, being tired, had stopped to rest, while Hildegarde
pursued a "yellow swallow-tail" among the trees. Rose established
herself on the trunk of a fallen tree, whose upturned roots made a most
comfortable armchair, all tapestried with emerald moss. She looked about
her with great content; counted the different k