Happy House Part 12

"It is too late in the evening to philosophize, and I mustn't let my wick burn too low or Aunt Sabrina will know I'm using the midnight oil.

Don't be cross, dear Claire, if you don't hear from me every day; although you might suppose that up here I'd have a great deal of leisure time, somehow each day seems to bring something unexpected.

And as I said on page 2 of this voluminous letter, I am growing fond of Happy House and there is a sort of fascination about everything here.

Dear Anne, with her n.o.ble dreams, never longed to bring about the reforms that I do! One is to throw out the dreadful waxed flowers and peac.o.c.k feathers and old gra.s.ses from Happy House and fill the vases with fresh flowers. Another is to sweep through the whole blessed village and open every blind and let in today!

"And then when I'm bursting with my longing to make the whole world better, I'm suddenly reminded that I'm just a little next-to-nothing that can't even remember to act grown-up, masquerading in our Anne's shoes and daring to find flaws in Miss Sabrina Leavitt with all the n.o.ble heritage of Leavitt tradition flowing in her veins.

"Good night, littlest pal, I wish I could be with you long enough for a good, long gossip. But, by and by--"

CHAPTER XI

MOONSHINE AND FAIRIES

"Good-evening, yellow b.u.t.tercups Good-evening, daisies white, Tell me, have you met the Moon-Queen On this pretty night?"

The little singer made a sweeping courtesy.

"How d'you do, Miss b.u.t.tercup? Do come here now and meet Mrs. Moon!"

With a gesture of exaggerated elegance she led an imaginary b.u.t.tercup out to a pool of silver where the bright moonlight slanted through the branches of an apple tree.

"Now, everybody, bow to Mrs. Moon," and the fairy-hostess bent to the ground. Then she snapped her fingers. "On with the music," she cried.

Like a spirit she danced off over the gra.s.s, now scarcely more than a shadow among the shadows, now full in the moonlight, bending, swaying, leaping, arms outstretched, face lifted.

But the frolic of the fairies in the moonlight came to a sad end, for a human hand reached out from behind a tree-trunk and caught the make-believe hostess of Mrs. Moon by one thin arm.

"Lemme go!" cried the child, shrilly.

Nancy, awakened by the moonlight streaming across the rose-cabbages of her carpeting, had been lured out into the night. Halting at the raspberry patch she had heard the little singer. Cautiously, lest indeed she disturb fairies at their revels she had crept into the orchard. From a hiding place she had watched the child's mad dance.

"Sh-h! I am the Moon-Queen! Let me dance with you!" Releasing the little wriggling body Nancy threw off her slippers. "Come!" Waving her hand she danced down through the apple trees, singing:

In their dress of yellow gold, In their petals white, I can see the fairy folk Gathered here to-night!

From the shadow the child watched her, sullenly, suspiciously. But with her loosened hair falling down over her pink dressing gown, Nancy herself looked an eerie little sprite; in a moment the child's alarm vanished. Of course she _knew_ that this must be Miss Sabriny Leavitt's niece, but it was fun, anyway, to pretend that she _was_ the Moon-Queen! And she must be very, very nice not to have "chased" her at once! And she might stop dancing, too, any moment! So out she ran to join Nancy, with hands outstretched, and together they capered and danced around among the old trees until, quite out of breath, Nancy fell upon the soft gra.s.s.

"Oh, goodness me, what _fun_! Now come here, Miss Fairy, and tell me who you are? _Are_ you a fairy come from the Village of Tall Gra.s.s in yonder field?"

The child, completely won, dropped at Nancy's feet.

"I'm Nonie Hopworth."

"Oh-h!" Nancy was genuinely surprised. "Are you Davy's sister?"

The child nodded. "Yep." She regarded Nancy closely. "You're _different_, aren't you?"

Nancy caught her meaning. "Yes, I'm different--at least, I'm not exactly like----"

"Miss Sabriny or--or B'lindy. _She'd_ have chased me! That's why I come here to play at night. Anyway, it's easier to pretend at night.

Do you ever pretend, Miss?"

"Call me Nancy, do! Of course, I pretend, often! I love to."

"Ain't it fun--I mean isn't! I forgot. I play it 'most all the time."

Nancy looked curiously at the strange little figure, almost wraithlike in the dim light. It was hard to believe that the winsome creature could belong in Freedom--and to the "no-good" Hopworths.

There was grace in every movement of the thin little body not in the least concealed by the worn, soiled, out-grown dress. Two dark, burning, eager, questioning eyes told of a spirit that lived above and beyond the sordid, colorless monotony of a life with old Dan'l Hopworth and Liz, who "didn't believe a feller oughta have any fun!"

"What do you pretend, Miss Nancy?"

Nancy laughed and rubbed the soles of her bare feet.

"Well, once I pretended I was the Moon-Queen and I scratched my poor feet dreadfully. What do you pretend?"

Nonie rocked back on her heels.

"Oh, lots and lots of different things. My every-day game is Rosemary.

She's my make-believe chum. She lives down in the haunted house on the North Hero road, only when I pretend, of course, the house isn't haunted. And it's got lovely gla.s.s things from the ceiling for candles and they sparkle like rainbows and diamonds. Rosemary and I play games and we--we read and tell each other stories and sometimes she helps me with the work, when Liz ain't around. Only Rosemary don't believe in fairies. She says that's baby, so when she's away I pretend fairy."

"When the moon shines----"

"Oh, yes, it's nicer then. And you can't play-fairy round our house because there ain't--there are _not_--any flowers. So I come here--there are such lots of pretty shadows--and nice smells. I pretend all the flowers come out from the garden and have a party.

It's fun having the flowers, 'cause you can just _tell_ how they'll act. You know a tulip's going to be awful tall and proud and bow--like this! And a rose'll act shy, and a b.u.t.tercup's pert. And a daisy's 'shamed 'cause her dress ain't better--I mean isn't. And a dandelion's awful bold. And a daffy-down-dilly--oh, _they're_ jolly!"

"How perfectly delightful! Tell me more, Nonie. I believe you have a witch for a fairy grandmother!"

Nonie giggled. "That's 'nother of my games. I've had that for a long time. She's coming some day and touch me with a wand and make me into a beautiful lady. And I'll go out and step into my carriage and a footman all shiny and white will say: 'To her Majesty's!' And I'll sit in the best parlor and drink chocolate and real whipped cream from cups with pink roses on 'em, and a page will say: '_Do_ have another piece of cake, your ladyship,' and--and I'll say, 'I couldn't hold another mouthful, thanks, I've had five!'"

Nancy and Nonie laughed together. Then Nonie sighed.

"Do any dreams ever come true? I mean the kind of things you sit and think about and want?"

"Maybe, if you dream hard enough, Nonie," Nancy answered, soberly.

"'Course I know _some_ of the things I pretend can't come true but maybe some will. Miss Denny told me they might. Only she said I'd have to make 'em. She's my teacher. I love her. I guess you're most as nice as she is. She gives me books and tells me when I say bad grammar. She says we must just think beautiful things and then put them into the right words--but it's hard! I forget awful easy. She don't--I mean, she does _not_--think I'm queer. Liz calls me 'loony!'"

"Oh, _no_--Nonie," protested Nancy, "Liz just can't understand."

"But _you_ do, don't you? Miss Denny did, too." Nonie was silent for a moment. "After I've learned a lot more I want to go out in the world with Davy and make a fortune. I don't know just how--but I want to do grand things. There's some places, ain't there--aren't there--that's so big folks wouldn't know we were Hopworths? Davy says he wants to go to sea and Liz says he'll come to no good end like Pa, but mebbe I can take him with me." She sighed. "It's awful long off 'til I grow up, though, I'm only twelve."

Then Nonie added slowly, as though she was sharing a secret: "There's one more thing I pretend. After I go to bed I shut my eyes tight and pretend that a beautiful lady with hair all gold and eyes that twinkle like stars and smile at you, comes and sits by my bed and takes hold of my hand and pats it and then kisses me, sort of on my forehead, and says: 'Good night, sweetness,' like that, in a voice that's soft like music and not a bit of the holler-kind!" Nonie gave a little sigh of rapture. "It's nice, you see, to have a make-believe mother like that!

I s'pose a real one wouldn't have time. Anyways, Liz says she'd like to _see_ a real mother do more for young 'uns than she does!"

Nancy blinked a sudden rush of tears from her eyes. She felt that she had seen bared the very soul of a child--a soul hungry for kindness and for love. She reached out and took one of the small hands in her own.