A Daughter of the Rich. Mary Ella Waller
hot curling-iron had been drawn quickly across it; then a sound of sizzling flesh, and the odor of broiled beefsteak rose up just under her nostrils.
There was a diabolical thud of falling flat-irons; Rose tore the bandage from Hazel's eyes, and the bewildered candidate for membership, when her eyes grew somewhat wonted to the dim light, found herself in a corner of the loft in the barn, with the elegant figure of the Marquis in cocked hat, white wig, yellow vest, blue coat, and yellow knee-breeches dancing frantically around her; Ethan Allen in white woollen shirt, red yarn suspenders, and red, white, and blue striped trousers, turning back-hand somersaults on the hay; Chi standing at salute with his great-great-grandfather's Revolutionary musket, his old straw hat decorated with a tricolor cockade, and Cherry in a white cotton-wool wig, a dark calico dress of her mother's and a white neckerchief, flat on the floor beside two six-pound flat-irons.
A piece of raw beef on a tin pan, some bits of ice, and a kid glove stuffed with ice and sawdust, lay scattered about. They told the tale of the initiation.
"Three cheers for Barbara Frietchie!" shouted Budd, as he came right side up. The barn rang with them.
"Now we 'll give the right hand of true fellowship," said Chi, rapping with the butt of his musket for order.
Rose gave Hazel's hand a squeeze. "I 'm so glad you 're to be one of us," she said heartily; and Hazel squeezed back.
March came forward, bowed low, and said, "I apologize for my distrust of your pluck," and held out his hand with a look in the flashing gray eyes that was not one of mockery; indeed, he looked glad, but never a word of welcome did he speak.
"I could flog that proud feller," muttered Chi to himself.
Hazel hesitated a moment, then put out her hand a little reluctantly. March caught the gesture and her look.
"Oh, you 're not obliged to," he said haughtily, and turned on his heel. But Hazel put her hand on his arm.
"I 'm afraid we are both breaking some of the by-laws, March. I do want to shake hands, but I was thinking just then that you did n't mean the apology–not really and truly; and if you did mean it, there was something else you needed to apologize for more than that!"
March flushed to the roots of his hair. Then his boy's honor came to the rescue.
"I do want to now, Hazel–and forgive and forget, won't you?" he said, with the winning smile he inherited from his father, but which he kept for rare occasions.
Hazel put her hand in his, and felt that this had been worth waiting for. She knew that at last March had taken her in.
Budd gripped with all his might, Cherry shook with two fingers, and Chi's great hand closed over hers as tenderly as a woman's would have done.
This was Hazel's initiation into the Nobody's Business But Our Own Society. It was the second meeting of the year.
"Now, March, I 'll make you chairman and ask you to state the business of this meetin', as you 've called it. Must be mighty important?"
"It is," replied March, gravely, all the fun dying out of his face. "You remember, all of you,–don't you?–what mother told us that night she said Hazel was coming?"
"Yes," chorussed the children.
"Well, I 've been thinking and thinking ever since how I could help–"
"So 've I, March," interrupted Rose.
"And I have, too," said Budd.
"What's all this mean?" said Chi, somewhat astonished, for he had not known why the meeting had been called.
"Why, you see, Chi, we never knew till then that the farm had been mortgaged on account of father's sickness, and that it had been so awful hard for mother all this year–"
Chi cleared his throat.
"–And we want to do something to help earn. If we could earn just our own clothes and books and enough to pay for our schooling, it would be something."
"Guess 't would," said Chi, clearing his throat again. "Kind of workin' out the third by-law, ain't you?"
"Trying to," answered March, with such sincerity in his voice that Chi's throat troubled him for full a minute. "And what I want to find out, without mother's knowing it, or father either, is how we can earn enough for those things. If anybody 's got anything to say, just speak up."
"What you goin' to do with those Wyandottes?"
"I knew you 'd ask that, Chi. I 'm going to raise a fine breed and sell the eggs at a dollar and a half for thirteen; but I can't get any chicken-money till next fall, and no egg-money till next spring, and I want to begin now."
"Hm–" said Chi, taking off his straw hat and slowly scratching his head. "Well," he said after a pause in which all were thinking and no one talking, "why don't all of you go to work raisin' chickens for next Thanksgivin'?"
"By cracky!" said Budd, "we could raise three or four hundred, an' fat 'em up, an' make a pile, easy as nothing."
"I don't know about it's bein' so easy; but children have the time to tend 'em, and I don't see why it won't work, seein' it's a good time of year."
"But where 'll we get the hens to set, Chi?" said March.
"Oh, there 's enough of 'em settin' round now on the bare boards," Chi replied.
"Can I raise some, too?" asked Hazel, rather timidly.
"Don't know what there is to hinder," said Chi, with a slow smile.
"And can I buy some hens for my very own?"
"Why, of course you can; just say the word, 'n' you 'n' I 'll go settin'-hen hunting within a day or so."
"Oh, what fun!" cried Hazel, clapping her hands. "But I want some that will sit and lay too, Chi; then I can sell the eggs."
There was a shout of laughter, at which Hazel felt hurt.
"There now, Lady-bird, we won't laugh at your city ways of lookin' at things any more. The hens ain't quite so accommodatin' as that, but we 'll get some good setters first, 'n' then see about the layin' afterwards."
"But, Chi, it will take such a lot of corn to fatten them. We don't want to ask father for anything."
"That's right, Rose. Be independent as long as you can; I thought of that, too. Now, there 's a whole acre on the south slope I ploughed this spring,–nice, hot land, just right for corn-raisin'; 'n' if you children 'll drop 'n' cover, I 'll help you with the hoein' 'n' cuttin' 'n' huskin'; 'n' you 'll have your corn for nothin'."
"Good for you, Chi; we 'll do it, won't we?" cried March.
"You bet," said Budd.
"I can pick berries," said Rose, "and we can always sell them at the Inn, or at Barton's River."
"Yes, and we can begin in June," said Cherry; "the pastures are just red with the wild strawberries, you know, Rose."
"It's an awful sight of work to pick 'em," said Budd, rather dubiously.
"Well, you can't get your money without workin', Budd; 'n' work don't mean 'take it easy.'"
"I 'm sure we can get twenty-five cents a quart for them right in the village. I 've heard folks say they make the best preserve you can get, and you can't buy them for love nor money," said Rose. "Mother makes beautiful ones."
"Was n't that what we had last Sunday night when the minister was here to tea?" asked Hazel.
"Yes," said Rose.
"I never tasted any strawberries like them at home, and the housekeeper buys lots of jams and jellies in the fall." Hazel thought hard for a minute. Suddenly she jumped to her feet, clapped her hands, and spun round and round like a top, crying out, "I have it! I have it!"
The N.B.B.O.O. Society was amazed to see the new member perform in this lively manner, for Hazel had been rather quiet during the first month. Now she caught up her skirts with a dainty tilt, and danced the Highland Fling just to let her spirits out through her feet. Up and down the floor of the loft she charged, hands over her head, hands swinging her skirts, light as a fairy, bending, swaying,