of life and intelligence and good-will that whoever looks at it
once is sure to look again. There he stands, silent, absorbed; and so
standing, he, too, sees visions. A garden, and a boy at work in it; a
freckled, towsled boy, fighting weeds with a hoe, but keeping one eye on
a tattered spelling-book that lies beside him. Ten weeds to a word, that
was the rule; big weeds, of course,--he did not count chickweed. What
was the word,--ah! yes! _anticipate!_ That was it! And then he looked
up, and saw the face looking through the hedge,--the beautiful face,
with the proud, pretty mouth, and the bright eyes. It had hardly
changed, save that the mouth was now gentle, instead of proud. And then
she came forward, and talked to him,--to him, in his old shirt and
trousers, and asked about his lessons, and offered to teach him. Ah,
yes! that was the beginning of it all, the new life, the new world, the
new joy!

There was a suspicion of moisture in the youth's bright blue eyes, but
they twinkled nevertheless; and when he spoke, it was in the old,
homely speech that he loved, and in the very words that he had spoken
that day, all these happy years ago.

"I swan!" said Zerubbabel Chirk. "I reelly do! I swan to man!"

CHAPTER VII.

MERRY WEATHER SIGNS.

BUT the best of all, perhaps, was telling about it afterward. Sitting by
the fire that evening, in the pleasant sitting-room, Hildegarde told her
mother all about the Great Frisk, as she called it; and it would have
been hard to say whether narrator or listener were the more interested.

"But, child," said Mrs. Grahame, "how was it possible for you to do so
much, and see so many people in three days, or, rather, two days and a
half? I cannot comprehend it!"

"Nor can I!" laughed Hildegarde. "But--it just happened, you know! Why,
dear, it seemed to _rain_ friends! Wherever I turned I ran into some one
I loved. Oh, I feel so rich,--rich in every way! The money in my pocket
is the least part of it all, and yet I am glad enough of that, too. Only
_think_ of my getting such a price! And eight or ten dozen to send
every week! It is like a fairy story, isn't it, darling? And then to
meet Helena,--dear Helena! Oh, she was so delightful! And just to see
her was enough to fill one with beauty for the whole day. She wears her
hair brushed back now,--you remember how it waves,--wonderful hair! And
she was in dark blue velvet, trimmed with chinchilla, and--and
altogether, my love,