"'Fess, 'fess, Martie!" cried Budd and Cherry, hilariously breaking up the meeting. "We 've got you now!" And without more ado they anchored her to the settle, each linked to an arm, while Hazel took off her hood, March drew off her rubbers, and Rose unpinned her shawl.
Mrs. Blossom laughed. "No, you guess," she replied.
"Down to the Mill Settlement?"
"Wrong."
"Over to Aunt Tryphosa's?"
"No."
"Down to see the Spillkinses?"
"Wrong again."
"Over eastwards to the Morris farm," said Chi.
"Right," said Mrs. Blossom, smiling. "How did you know, Chi?"
"I didn't, just guessed it; coz I knew the new folks was goin' to move in this week."
"What new folks?" chorussed the children in surprise.
"An addition to the Lost Nation," replied their mother, "and a very charming one. Now there are five families on our Mountain."
"Who are they, Martie?"--"Are you going to ask them to Thanksgiving, too?"--"What's their name?"--"How many are there of them?"--"Any boys?"
They were all talking together.
"One at a time, please," laughed Mrs. Blossom, putting her hands over her ears. "I never heard such mill-clappers!"
"_Do_ hurry up, mother," said March, appealingly.
"A young man from New Haven has taken the lease of the farm for three years. He has his mother and sister with him. He was in the law school at Yale until last spring; then his father died, and his sister, a little older than you, Rose, was injured in some accident--I don't know what it was--and now she is very delicate. The doctor says if she can live in this mountain country for a few years, she may recover her health. The brother and mother are perfectly devoted to her. She calls herself a 'Shut-in'--"
"Then she can't come over for Thanksgiving dinner," said Rose, interrupting.
"Not this year, but I hope she may next."
"Did he give up college for his sister's sake?" asked March.
"He gave up the last year of his law course; they could not afford to travel so many years for the benefit of her health, so they came up here. I do pity them; it must be such a change. But, oh, March! how you will enjoy that house! They have been there only a week, yet it looks as if they had lived there always. They have such beautiful framed photographs of places they visited when they were in Europe with their father, and cases of books, and a grand piano--I don't see how they ever got it up the Mountain. The young man and his mother both play, and he plays the violin, too."
The children and Chi were listening open-eyed as Mrs. Blossom went on enthusiastically:--
"It's just like a fairy story, only it's all true. Just two weeks ago, when your father and I drove by there, that long, rambling house looked so bleak and bare and desolate--your father and I always call it the 'House of the Seven Gables,' for there are just seven--and the spruce woods behind it looked fairly black, and the wind drew through the pines by the south door with such an eerie sound, that I shivered. And to-day, what a change! All the shutters were open, and muslin curtains at the windows, and the sun was streaming into the four windows of the great south room that they have made their living-room. There was a roaring big fire in the hall fireplace, and plants--oh, Rose, you should see them! palms and rubber trees and sword ferns,--and lovely rugs, and--I can't begin to tell you about it; you must go and see for yourselves." Mrs. Blossom paused for breath, with a glad light in her eyes.
"It sounds too good to be true," said Rose, "and you look as if you had been to a real party, Martie."
"Well, I have, my dear. Just to see such people and such a house is a party for me."
"And you can keep having it, too, can't you, Martie? because they 're going to be neighbors," cried Cherry, every individual curl dancing and bobbing with excitement.
"Is the young man good-looking?" asked Hazel, earnestly.
"Very," replied Mrs. Blossom, smiling.
"As handsome as Jack?" said Hazel.
"Very different looking, Hazel; quiet and grave, but genial. Not so tall as Mr. Sherrill, I should say; talks but little, but what he says is well worth listening to--and when he smiled! I did n't hear him laugh, but I know he can enjoy fun. He has a fine saddle horse, Chi, and he wants you to come and give him some advice about selecting stock."
"'Fraid he 's too high-toned for me," said Chi, modestly; "but if I can help him anyway, I 'd like to. Seems a likely young man from all you say."
"He 's more than 'likely,' Chi," returned Mrs. Blossom, with a twinkle in her eye that only Chi caught.
"Speakin' of horses, Mis' Blossom, we 've decided to send March to the Academy at Barton's, 'n' if I let him have Fleet, he could come 'n' go, a matter of sixteen miles a day, without bein' from home nights. I don't approve of that for boys."
"No, indeed, neither his father nor I would think of such a thing for a moment. But how kind of you, Chi, to let March have Fleet."
"I want to help on the college education all I can; 'n' if our boy wants to go, he 's goin' to have the best to get him there so far as I 'm concerned."
"I don't know how to thank you, Chi," said March, "but I 'll treat Fleet like a lady and I 'll study like a--like a house on fire. I don't envy that other fellow his saddle horse if I can have Fleet. What's his name, mother? you haven't told us yet."
"Why, so I have n't--Ford, Alan Ford, and his sister's name is Ruth."
"When can we go over and see them, Martie?" said Rose.
"I thought two or three days after Thanksgiving, and then you can take a little neighborly thank-offering with you."
"What can we take?" queried Cherry.
"Oh, a mince pie or two, some raspberry preserves, a comb of last summer's honey, a pat of butter, a nice bunch of our white-plume celery, and, perhaps, Chi could find a brace of partridges."
"M-m--does n't that sound good-tasting!" said Cherry, patting her chest ecstatically.
"Who 's coming for Thanksgiving, Martie?" asked Budd.
"All the Lost Nation--the Spillkinses and Aunt Tryphosa and Maria-Ann, Lemuel and his wife and--who else? Guess."
"Why, that's all."
"Not this year, you forget your new teacher, Budd. She boards around, and it's the Mountain's year, so she is at Lemuel's now."
"Oh, good!" cried Budd enthusiastically. "She 's a daisy. I know you 'll like her, Hazel. All the fellows are awfully soft on her, though--bring her butternut candy, an' sharpen her pencils, an' black the stove, an' wash off the black-board; an' I saw Billy Nye sneak out the other day and wipe the mud off her rubbers with his paper lunch-bag!
Catch me doing it, though," he added, his chest swelling rather pompously as he straightened himself and thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his knickerbockers.
"Why not?" his mother asked with an amused smile.
"Oh, coz," was Budd's rather sheepish reply, and thereupon he followed Chi out to the barn, whistling "Dixie" with might and main.