As for Rose, she was thinking almost more of Doctor Heath, with whom she was a great favorite, than of the coming guest. Chi had done up the chores early with March's help, and sat whistling and whittling in the shed door with his eye on the lower road.
"They 're coming; they 're coming!" screamed the twins, making a wild dash for the woodshed, that they might have the first glimpse as the wagon drove up to the kitchen porch.
"Chi, they 're coming!" they shrieked in his ear, as they flew past him.
"Well, I ain't deaf, if they are," said Chi, gathering himself together, and going out to help unload.
"Chi, how are you?" said the Doctor, in a hearty tone, grasping the horny hand held out to him.
"First-rate, 'n' glad to see you back on the Mountain."
"Here, lend a hand, will you? and take out a Little somebody who has to be handled rather gently for a week or two."
"I ain't much used to handlin' chiny," he replied, "but I 'll be careful."
He reached up his long arms and, gently as a woman, lifted Hazel out of the wagon on to the porch.
By this time, Budd had found his bearings and had the Doctor by the hand.
"Halloo, Budd! here you are handy. Just take Hazel's bag, and run into the house with her; she must n't stand a minute in this keen air."
Budd's heart was going pretty fast, but he faced the music.
"Come along, Hazel; we 've been waiting a month to see you."
"And I've been waiting longer than that to see you, Budd." The gentle voice made Budd her vassal forever after.
"Here, Martie, here's Hazel!" he shouted quite unnecessarily, for his mother had come to the door to welcome her guests. Cherry, hearing the shout, disappeared in the pantry, and was invisible until called to supper.
In the confusion of glad welcome that followed, Hazel was conscious of stepping into a large, warm, lighted room, of some one's arms about her, and of a loving voice, saying:
"Come in, dear; you must be so tired with your long journey and this cold ride;" and then a kiss that made her half forget the lonely, strange feeling she had had during the stage and wagon ride, despite the doctor's cheerfulness and care of her.
Then some one untied her brown velvet hood and loosened her long sealskin coat.
"Let me take off your things," said Rose.
Hazel looked up and into the loveliest face she ever remembered to have seen.
"I 'm Rose, and this is May. May, this is the valentine Martie told us of."
"I tiss 'oo," said May, winningly, and held up her rosy bud of a face to Hazel. Hazel stooped to give her, not one, but a half-dozen kisses.
There was no resisting such a little blossom.
May put up her hand and stroked the little silk skull-cap.
"What 'oo wear tap for?"
"Sh! baby," said Rose, horrified, putting her hand on May's mouth.
"Oh, don't do that," said Hazel, "I 'm so used to it now; I don't mind what people say or think. But I did at first."
May's lip began to quiver and roll over; Hazel sat down on the settle, and, drawing May up beside her, said gently:--
"There, there, little May Blossom, don't you cry, and I 'll tell you all about it. It's because I have n't any hair. I lost it all when I was sick so long. Sometime I 'll show you how funny my head looks, all covered with fuzz. Doctor Heath says it's like a little chicken's." And May was comforted and won once and for all to the Valentine, who gave her the tiny chatelaine watch to play with.
Budd had been hanging about to get the first glimpse of Hazel by lamplight, and now rushed off to the barn and Chi to give vent to his feelings.
"I say, Chi, where are you?"
"In the harness room," replied Chi. "What do you want?" as he appeared.
"I say, Chi, she 's a peach. She is n't a bit stuck up, as March said she would be."
"Good-lookin'?" queried Chi.
"N-o," said Budd, hesitating, "n-o, but I think she will be when she gets some hair."
"Ain't got any hair!" exclaimed Chi. "How does that happen?"
"She said she 'd been sick an' lost it all, an' 't was like chicken fuzz."
"Said that, did she?" exclaimed Chi, laughing; then, with the sudden change from gayety to absolute solemnity that was peculiar to him, he said:--
"She 's no fool, I can tell you that, Budd; 'n' I 'll bet my last red cent she 'll come out an A Number 1 beauty; 'n' March Blossom had better hold his tongue till he cuts all his wisdom teeth." And with that Chi went into the shed room to "wash up."
What a supper that was! And what a room in which to eat it!
But for the Doctor's cheery voice, Hazel, as she sat in a corner of the settle, might have thought herself in another world, so unaccustomed were her city-bred eyes to all that was going on before her. The room itself was so queer, and, in a way new to her, delightful.
The farmhouse was an old one, strong of beam and solid of foundation.
It had been divided at first according to the fashion of the other century in which it was built. But as his family increased, Mr. Blossom found the need of a large, general living-room. It was then that he took down the wall between the front square room and the kitchen, and threw them into one. It was this arrangement that made the apartment unique.
At one end was the huge fireplace that was originally in the front room.
At the left of the fireplace was the jog into which the front door opened, formerly the little entry.
This was the sitting-room end of the low forty-foot-long apartment; and it showed to Hazel the fireplace, the old-fashioned crane, with the hickory back-log glowing warm welcome, the long red-cushioned settle, a set of shelves filled with books, a little round work-table, Mrs.
Blossom's special property, a large round table of cherry that had turned richly red with age, and wooden armchairs and rockers, with patchwork cushions.
The middle portion served for dining-room. In it were the family table of hard pine, the wooden chairs, and Mrs. Blossom's grandmother's tall pine dresser.
At the kitchen end, next the woodshed, were the sink, the stove, the kitchen shelves for pots and pans, and the kitchen table with its bread-trough and pie-board, all of which Rose kept scoured white with soap and sand.
This living-room, sitting-room, dining-room, and kitchen in one had six windows facing south and east. Every window had brackets for plants; for this evening Rose had turned the blossom-side inwards to the room, and the walls glowed and gleamed with the velvety crimson of gloxinias, the red of fuchsias, the pink and white and scarlet of geraniums, the cream of wax-plant and begonia. Upon all this radiance of color, the lamplight shone and the fire flashed its crimson shadows. The kettle sang on the stove, and the delicious odor of baked potatoes came from the open oven.
"Why, March!" said the Doctor, coming down from the spare room at the call for supper, "waiting for an introduction? I did n't know you stood on ceremony in this fashion. Allow me," he said with mock gravity to Hazel, and presented March in due form.
Hazel greeted him exactly as she would have greeted a new boy at dancing-school. "Little Miss Finicky," was March's scornful thought of her, as he bowed rather awkwardly and thrust his hands into his pockets, racking his brains for something to say.