brought the book and drew her chair up to the table, and all three
prepared for an hour of solid enjoyment. "But before I begin," she said,
"I want you to promise, Farmer Hartley, to take me with you the next
time you go to the village. I _must_ buy a hat for Pink Chirk."

CHAPTER IX.

THE OLD CAPTAIN.

"Let--me--see!" said Farmer Hartley, as he gathered up the reins and
turned old Nancy's head towards the village, while Hildegarde, on the
seat beside him, turned back to wave a merry farewell to Nurse Lucy, who
stood smiling in the porch. "Let--me--see! Hev you ben off the farm
before, Huldy, sence you kem here?"

"Not once!" replied Hilda, cheerily. "And I don't believe I should be
going now, Farmer Hartley, if it were not for Pink's hat. I promised
myself that she should not wear that ugly straw sun-bonnet again. I
wonder why anything so hideous was ever invented."

"A straw bunnit, do ye mean?" said the farmer; "somethin' like a long
sugar-scoop, or a tunnel like?"

"Yes, just that!" said Hilda; "and coming down over her poor dear eyes
so that she cannot see anything, except for a few inches straight before
her."

"Wal!" said the farmer, meditatively, "I remember when them bunnits was
considered reel hahnsome. Marm Lucy had one when she was a gal; I mind
it right well. A white straw it was, with blue ribbons on top of it. It
come close round her pooty face, an' I used to hev to sidle along and
get round in front of her before I could get a look at her. I hed
rayther a grudge agin the bunnit on that account; but I supposed it was
hahnsome, as everybody said so. I never see a bunnit o' that kind," he
continued, "without thinkin' o' Mis' Meeker an' 'Melia Tyson. I swan! it
makes me laugh now to think of 'em."

"Who were they?" asked Hildegarde, eagerly, for she delighted in the
farmer's stories. "Please tell me about them!"

The farmer shook his head, as was his wont when he was about to relapse
into reminiscences, and gave old Nancy several thoughtful taps with the
whip, which she highly resented.

"Ol' Mis' Meeker," he said, presently, "she was a character, she was!
She didn't belong hereabouts, but down South somewhere, but she was
cousin to Cephas Tyson, an' when Cephas' wife died, she came to stop
with him a spell, an' look out for his children. Three children there
was, little Cephas, an' Myrick, an' 'Melia. 'Melia, she was a peart,
lively little gal, with snappin' black eyes, an' consid'ble