THE VILLAGE OF HIDE AND SEEK.
"The now smiling vagabond stood bowing and scraping in the middle of the sunbaked road."
THE VILLAGE
OF
HIDE AND SEEK
BY
BINGHAM THOBURN WILSON
AUTHOR OF
"YE MOUNTAINEER," "THE TALE OF THE PHANTOM YACHT," ETC.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
W. HERBERT DUNTON
NEW YORK
CONSOLIDATED RETAIL BOOKSELLERS
1905
Copyrighted, 1905, by
CONSOLIDATED RETAIL BOOKSELLERS
REGISTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL, LONDON
(All Rights Reserved)
Published, October, 1905.
{Printed in the United States of America}.
Dedication.
TO THE CHILDREN OF POVERTY AND RAGS. TO THE
HOUSEHOLD OF SORROW AND BURDENSOME CARE.
TO THE LIVES IN THE SHADOW OF THE DARK GAUNT
FORM OF WOE. TO THOSE WHOSE EARS HAVE BEEN
ATTUNED TO THE HOLLOW, MOCKING VOICE OF
GRIEF. TO THE HUMBLEST OF THE HUMBLE, THE
POOR; THE VERY POOR. AND MAY THIS STORY
PROVE TO BE STARLIGHT IF NOT SUNSHINE.
VERY RESPECTFULLY,
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
["All the odd, ill-fitting garments ... were changed into raiments of rich lace and gold"]
["He seemed to be leaping over great fields fully a mile at a stride"]
["The children stopped to look back upon the spot from which they had just come"]
["Looking upward they were amazed to behold the open sky filled with sweet-voiced angels"]
THE VILLAGE OF HIDE AND SEEK
CHAPTER I
"HIS HIGHNESS," THE VAGABOND
On a bright sunny day in the middle of the month of August, a merry group of gaily dressed children were romping upon the green lawn of a country place, that, from its well kept and cleanly surroundings, could not have been mistaken for any other than the home of some prosperous and perhaps retired gentleman of wealth and refinement.
The old-fashioned stone house, with its wide porch and heavily carved wooden columns green-coated with climbing ivy, rose amid the stately trees of the lawn, until it seemed lost in a bower of shadowy foliage. The low, thatch-roofed out-buildings and long lines of far-reaching fence, carefully coated with fresh whitewash, stood glistening in the sunlight, quite in harmony with the polished marble window sills of the great stone mansion.
Standing in the very centre of the scene, like some still lingering remnant of the long gone and almost forgotten past, arose the tall, rustic arm of an old-fashioned well-sweep, that raised or lowered a moss-covered, old oaken bucket, filled to overflowing and dripping wet with cool, clear water, not unfrequently visited by this gamboling group of merry children both during and after their play.
As the children rested for a moment beneath the sheltering arms of an old oak tree, they were much surprised to behold the form of a wandering vagabond ambling along the dusty road. His hat was well drawn down over his eyes to avoid the glaring rays of the mid-day sun. Over his shoulder and made fast to the end of a crooked stick, that might have answered as well for a defence as for a staff, hung his sum total of earthly possessions, tied carefully into a small bundle and as carefully hid from view within the folds of a red bandanna handkerchief.
A passing glance only was needed to tell that the wanderer was weary; and as his eyes, glistening with envy, beheld the cool shade of the trees, and the still more inviting bucket above the well, that, half-filled and leaking, hung suspended in mid-air, he halted his weary pace in the road near the gate and beckoned the children to approach.
No second invitation was needed. The boys, more daring and venturesome, bounded toward him with a merry shout and were soon standing on the edge of the lawn near the wanderer; but the little girls, like so many timid fawns of the forest, with a feeling more of fear than of curiosity, lingered tardily behind; and it was some time before they joined their less cautious companions.
He was a curious-looking, but quite jolly vagabond indeed; and although his face was begrimed and smeared with mingled perspiration and dust, his eyes shone with a merry, good-natured twinkle, as he doffed his well worn and dusty black hat and bowed with an air of politeness, quite unknown to the common everyday tramp of the highways of the world.
One of the children laughingly exclaimed:
"Where are you going?"
And another: "Where did you come from?"
And still a third: "Where is your home?"
And so on, until the now smiling vagabond, waiting for a chance to reply, stood bowing and scraping in the middle of the sunbaked road as he calmly received volley after volley of almost unanswerable questions.
"Well!" he exclaimed at last, as the children became suddenly silent, "you ask me where I am from and where I am going, so now let me say: just at present I am from everywhere in general and bound nowhere in particular!"
And he began pounding the dust from his body and limbs with his old hat, as if wishing to make himself look presentable, even if out in the middle of a hot, dusty roadway; and looking up with a longing glance, he asked permission to obtain a drink of water from the well on the lawn.
The big gate was still closed to "His Most Royal Highness," and as the mere thought of his entering the lawn dawned upon the minds of the now silent children, they drew back in affright and with solemn faces; nor would they think of granting the stranger's request until finally one little fellow called his companions together for a moment, as he almost pleadingly said:
"It is wrong to deny a poor man a drink of water. He is weary and perhaps far from home, while God gives us the water so freely. Beside, he cannot take the shade of these trees away with him when he goes, so, while he rests on the lawn, I will bring him a drink from the well myself."
And with a light foot, but a much lighter heart, the boy bounded away in haste, while the weary "Knight of the Road" entered the shadow of a big maple tree on the lawn and stood waiting for him to return.
As he gulped down the cool, refreshing water in a manner as though famished, he blinked his bright sparkling eyes in evidence of much relish; then casting a thankful glance upon the face of his new found friend, he turned toward him with a smile as he said:
"My little lad, for your kind act to a weary and thirsty man let me say; if you will gather your little friends about me under the shade of this tree, I will tell you an interesting story, which, if you will listen carefully, may give you something of my past wanderings as well as an answer to some of the questions you asked of me while I was out in the road."
Without a word of reply, the children, anxious to know what the stranger's story might be, sank here and there upon the grass, as the vagabond thus began his strange tale.
CHAPTER II
"AUNT TWADDLES"
"As I paused in the middle of the road near the gate," began the vagabond, "this manly little fellow who so kindly brought me a drink from the well, wanted to know where I came from. In answer to his question let me say: I am, as you see, a friendless vagabond, wandering hither and thither over the face of the earth. But think not that I never had a home; for although I may not look it, I once had a dear mother, just as each one of you has, who, when I was a baby kissed me and rocked me to sleep every night with a sweet lullaby. But that was a long time ago, and it is little wonder that, as you now gaze upon me, you are anxious to know who I am and whence I came.
"Now I might be an earthly prince in disguise for aught that you know, though I'm not. Yet right here let me say, I am the son of a King, for we are all the children of God and our earthly end is alike in this dust that some of you children at first so pretended to scorn as you saw it all over my clothes. So from this on, remember, we are only of the dust; and the babies of satins and silks, all humbled at last, shall lie down and sleep side by side with the children of tatters and rags.
"Be that as it may; I was born in the village of Harpers Ferry on the banks of the fair Shenandoah River, where lofty mountains rise and overhang with rugged cliffs that seem about to fall into the deep valley below; and where, in order to get into the town at all, the trains pass through a dark tunnel in the mountains, and leaping with shrill whistle across the long span of a great steel bridge, slow down and stop at a quaint, stone station, so closely surrounded by tall mountains on all sides that a traveller might think himself at the very end of the world.
"It is here that the wild Shenandoah empties its foaming waters into the Potomac River, (for be it remembered that the two streams were joined in Holy wedlock by the Indians long, long ago), and mingling their currents in loving embrace, they leap onward through a pass in the mountains and together journey joyfully eastward toward the sea.
"As the stranger stands upon the platform at the little stone station, and gazes far across the Shenandoah River, he cannot help noticing a dark path, or roadway, leading straight up the face of a steep cliff; and long will he wonder how it could ever be possible to climb that path, for it stands almost straight up and down.
"Right here let me say there are but three persons on earth who can truthfully boast of having once included that path as a part of their journey; while strangest of all is the fact that one of these was an old woman, so awkward and fat that she looked to be almost helpless, while the other two, at the time of ascent, were mere children.
"For many years prior to the time of my story, (how long, nobody ever could tell), there dwelt an old woman somewhere up in these mountains, and unless something has happened to her recently she is living there still.
"She was a strange-looking creature and from her jolly, good nature and laughing, happy way, had grown in weight until she must have tipped the scales at fully five hundred pounds.
"She did not look in the least like a mountain climber, nor in fact hardly able to mount a short flight of stairs; yet she was a quite frequent wanderer up and down the opposite bank of the river, where most of her time was spent in gathering wild herbs on the rough side of the mountain, or along the fertile bed of the Shenandoah.
"When the great bag, which she always carried slung over her shoulder, was filled with herbs almost to bursting, she would start at the bottom of this high cliff, and, aided by the scrubby bushes that grew from the dark fissures in the mountain's time scarred face, she would manage in some mysterious way to drag her full five hundred weight with its load to the top, and then disappear in the mountain woodland above.
"It was not only a tiresome, but likewise a dangerous journey, for there were few places where she could catch her toes in the steep rock; and as she climbed slowly upward, and with much difficulty felt for each foothold, her great body swayed and staggered upon the face of the cliff, while she puffed and blew from her toil so loudly that her heavy breathing could plainly be heard far across in the village of Harpers Ferry.
"Never did she go up the cliff but that great boulders would break loose under her ponderous tread, and tumbling headlong with mighty bound, would dash down the steep mountain-side and land with a roaring crash in the bed of the river below, where to this day they may be seen choking the tide of the stream in a great rocky mass.
"In many ways this strange woman was more odd than she looked. She was not very high, but so terribly spread out that she was equally as tall when lying down as when standing up; and if, like a turtle, she might have drawn in her feet and her head, she could have rolled about over the ground like a great ball—but of course she was not a turtle.
"The garments, too, that she wore, both in make and material, were strange to look upon. Her skirt, which could never have been made for another, was fully a foot too long. It entirely concealed her feet, which could not have been small, and so caused her to stumble and trip that often indeed have I wondered how she could get along with her big bag of herbs over a level road, much less up a path on the face of the cliff, that even the bravest of hunters and mountain-men dared not attempt to climb. Thus she went stumbling along in her own silent, industrious way.
"And now comes the strangest thing of all about this wonderful, fat woman.
"Many are the grown people that have passed her while busy at her labor of herb gathering, yet not for a moment would she stop work to talk with any of them. If they smiled, she might look up and smile in reply; but if they asked her a question she would answer it with such an uncivil grunt that they were glad to pass rapidly along on their way.
"But should she happen to meet with a group of gay children, this strange, fat woman was sure to drop her big bag of herbs, and pausing for a long jolly chat, would unbosom her goodness of heart and draw from her ponderous pockets handful after handful of candy and pop-corn balls, taffy and chocolate drops, the like of which for sweetness and flavor, no mortal man had ever made.
"Nor was she in the least inclined to be stingy for she would give the children as much of her sweets as they could eat and then bid them good-bye with a kiss and a parting blessing. For so many years had she thus kindly treated the children that they watched for her coming and going day after day and were ever on the lookout to greet her, with tears of joy in their eyes.
"The name of this fat woman was 'Twaddles;' and as nobody thereabout knew just whether she was a Miss or a Mrs., the children had nicknamed her 'Auntie,' although that might have been as big a mistake as either of the other two names. But it sounded motherly and sweet to her ears, and, as its mention was sure to bring forth an abundance of bon-bons and candies, all of the grown people as well as the children called her 'Aunt Twaddles.'
"Where did she come from? you ask. Well, for many years nobody ever could tell. Some claimed that she lived in a nest with the eagles far off in the mountains. Others, that she dwelt alone with some half grown cubs in the heart of a dark bear den, where the foot of a hunter had never passed; while some even vowed that at night all the humming birds kept guard while she slept far back in a cave in the rocks.
"Old Nimrod, the hunter, declared, (and he had spent his whole life in the mountains), that she was 'Queen of the Witches' and lived in the dark hollow of a great tree, far down in a deep rocky glen, where panthers and owls with wildcats and rattlesnakes dwell. Once when he saw her, he said she was leading a pack of fierce wolves along on the side of the mountain; and again she was holding a live panther close to her breast and rocking it to sleep in her arms.
"At any rate, wherever she lived, so marvelous indeed was she skilled in the art of making candy, that her praises were sung by the children far and near; and strangest of all was the fact that, should you once eat a little bite of it, the sweetness and flavor it left in your mouth lasted for over a week, while its memory lasted a lifetime. Years might pass silently away and the children who had once tasted of 'Aunt Twaddles'' candy grow up and be married, yet they could never forget it, though they tried; while stranger still was the fact that a mere recollection was sure to bring tears to the eyes, nor could one cease crying until he went home and forgot about it.
"In proof of this part of my tale let me say; I remember one day as I stood quite hidden from view amid the green alder-berry bushes that grew on the bank of the river, I beheld 'Aunt Twaddles' coming slowly down the edge of the stream. Her big bag was heavily laden with herbs, and, as the sun was quite high in the heavens, she paused in the shade of a tree near the foot of the steep path for a moment of rest before starting up the dangerous face of the cliff, for she needed all of her strength to go up.
"Just as she had comfortably seated herself on a log, I noticed a little old man tottering across the long foot-bridge that led over from the village. He was hurrying along, rapping his feet and his staff on the boards as fast as his seventy-odd years would allow. His long, snow-white hair waved on the midsummer breeze, while the long flaps of his old-fashioned coat were dangling about his thin, wabbly legs in a manner too funny for anything.
"As he drew near, I noticed that there were real tears in his eyes, and his withered old cheeks were much stained where they had fallen. Carefully I watched him as he drew near, and, with a feeling of deepest respect bowed low as he said in a tremulous, squeaky voice:
"'Good morning, Aunt Twaddles. Would you mind giving an old, life-long friend another bit of your candy?'
"In a second 'Aunt Twaddles' arose.
"'No sir!' she cried, with a frown, 'I gave you plenty of it, Sir, when you were a good little boy. Tobacco seems to be your favorite candy now from the appearance of your stained white beard, so you get none of mine.'
"And she began to empty her pockets that were filled with sweet, juicy bon-bons, over the brink and down into the stream; and shouldering her big bag of herbs, prepared to start up the face of the cliff. The little old man went tottering back over the foot-bridge to the village; nor is there any doubt that he went home and cried over the thought of her candy and kept crying until he forgot about it.
"And now," said the vagabond, "lest the thought of 'Aunt Twaddles'' candy brings tears to my eyes, for I have eaten some of it myself, let us pause for a moment while we more comfortably seat ourselves before I proceed with the story."
The almost vertical rays of the mid-day sun were pouring a merciless fire upon a portion of the charmed circle and the story-teller with his group of merry children was not slow in selecting a new spot further in under the protecting branches of the tree. The children had been so absorbed in the wonderful tale of the wanderer that they had failed to notice the intense heat until, down the faces of some of the smaller ones, drops of perspiration were flowing like tears.
Amid a clamorous shout of "Go on! Go on!" uttered in concert by the delighted children, it was thus the wanderer continued.
CHAPTER III
THE PATH UP THE CLIFF
"In the Village of Harpers Ferry, there stood for many years an old Inn;—so old that no one knew its age. It was built in the days before saw-mills were known, when all the lumber was either split out or sawed out by hand. The weather-stained boards on its rickety sides were covered with moss from the eaves down to the ground, while the shingles of the roof were so twisted and warped out of place that they afforded little or no protection to the dwellers within.
"Travel was light in Harpers Ferry during the time of which I speak, and the lack of good business, together with his miserly nature, kept the old Inn-keeper peevish and cross; so much so that he was despised by everyone about the village.
"He was a wheezy little old man with a wooden leg, the rough oaken stump of which, with its shafts and mysterious harness, was a source of much wonder as well as merriment to the children of the neighborhood; while the little old man himself seemed to be just withering away and drying up on his feet, instead of growing weak and infirm, as is the usual course with most things that are old.
"Two bright little orphan grandchildren answered his cross, squeaky call, and as their father had been dead ever since they were babies, and their dear mother had died some two years before, they lived with the cross old man at the Inn, where they received a scolding or whipping much oftener than they did a good dinner. Never was he heard to speak a kind word to either of them.
"Through the early part of every spring this old Inn-keeper would suffer dreadfully from asthma, which is a kind of disease that chokes people just as if they were strangling all the time. During these bad spells of smothering he would drive the poor children off into the mountains to gather wild pennyroyal, which he burned under a funnel and inhaled the smoke to relieve his wheezing during the night, for without it he could not sleep. Many indeed were the whippings they had received at the hands of the cruel old Inn-keeper just because they failed to find enough of the herb in the mountain to suit his suffering needs.
"The bright sun was warm on this particular spring morning although the frost had not yet departed from some of the deep mountain glens. The old Inn-keeper called the two children from their play in the village street and bade them hasten away over the river to search for pennyroyal. He did not forget to threaten them with an angry frown before they left, as he loudly vowed that he expected to spend a bad night with the asthma, and solemnly declared that, should they return without a goodly supply of pennyroyal, he would whip them both soundly, deny them their suppers and make them sleep without covers on the floor of the attic,—a place that swarmed with both rats and mice.
"With this terrible threat still ringing in their ears, the two children hastened away toward the river and with much fear in their hearts started across the long foot-bridge toward the mountains.
"Arthur, the boy, was eleven years old, while his little sister Maud, a beautiful but shy little thing, had hardly turned nine. They journeyed along hand in hand and when midway the stream, they looked back just as the old Inn-keeper entered the Inn, then paused for a moment to glance over the wide flowing stream and look down into its clear waters for bass,—which, I might add, was their principal sport on a hot summer day.
"Far up the tide, a fish-hawk sailed silently round and round over the foamy water, searching the more shallow places with a keen, piercing eye, and looking no doubt for its dinner. A long-necked blue heron, awakened by the loud, clattering footsteps and shouting voices of the two children, arose from beneath a dark tangle of water-elms that grew near the farther end of the foot-bridge, and, with lazy wings, and dragging its slim legs over the water as if it were too much trouble to lift them up under its body, it went on up the edge of the stream and disappeared from sight along the dark shore. High over all and circling with mysterious ease, a bald eagle held stately repose in the sky.
"'Come, Maudie,' exclaimed little Arthur at last. 'Let us make haste, for the journey may be tiresome and long.' And hand in hand they hastened across the bridge.
"As they came to the edge of the woods they began their search for pennyroyal. This herb was not plentiful so early in the spring and the side of the mountain was steep and rough.
"Bright, fancy-formed ferns were growing here and there from beneath the edge of the big rocks, and johnny-jump-ups were lifting their tiny blue heads aloft to the fresh morning breeze, wherever an occasional dead tree allowed the rays of the sun to fall unshadowed upon the rich soil below. All through the woodland they noticed the poison-oak vine, as it slowly began its long summer climb up the trunks of the stately oak trees.
"'Alas!' thought the two children as they journeyed along, 'there is no pennyroyal.'
"Then looking up with affright at the sound of a familiar voice, they were greatly surprised, for there stood 'Aunt Twaddles' before them.
"At once the object of their journey was forgotten and they buried their grief for a time as the kind-hearted old lady drew forth a handful of her sweet candy, and all three sank upon a green, moss-covered mound for a rest and a feast and a chat.
"When they were comfortably seated, 'Aunt Twaddles' glanced carefully about her, and, as she measured the moss-covered mound with one sweep of the eye, she suddenly exclaimed:
"'Perhaps this mound is the grave of some long dead but great Indian chief;' and while the two children sat gazing about, she continued: 'But he can't scalp us now, children! He can't scalp us now!'
"And with a loud, harsh laugh that rang through the woodland, she leaned her fat back against the trunk of a tall tree that towered ever so high above them.
"'And where are you going, my dears?' at last she inquired.
"'After pennyroyal for grandfather,' replied little Arthur, and his words were followed by a deep sigh.
"'Have you found any?' she asked, as her fat face lighted up with a broad smile that drove all thoughts of sorrow and care from their minds.
"'Not yet, Ma'am!' exclaimed little Maud. 'I don't think it has come up out of the ground, for we have searched so far very carefully.'
"'Aunt Twaddles' laughed outright. 'Oh yes, it has, dear,' she replied. 'Pennyroyal is the second flavoring herb of the spring-time.'
"And she reached her hand down deep into her herb bag and drew forth quite a quantity of fresh plucked pennyroyal and laid it before their envious gaze on the ground.
"'And what is the first flavoring herb, Aunt Twaddles?' inquired little Arthur, as he glanced up from the pennyroyal.
"'Mint, darling,' she replied with a laugh, and continued: 'On the south side of the mountain, where the springs moisten and soften the soil, it lifts its green head out of the earth as soon as the frost leaves the ground.'
"She lowered her hand to her big pocket as she ceased speaking and drew from its mighty depth two great, round pop-corn balls, that were dripping with honey and of the deep crimson color of ripe cherries. Placing one in the hand of each of the children, she glanced down upon them with a happy smile, as she exclaimed:
"'There, darlings. These are flavored with mint that I gathered only yesterday. Taste them and see what you think of the flavor.'
"The two children were delighted with the sweet gift, but though it pleased them greatly, they could not keep their envious eyes from the pennyroyal, for they knew that the time thus spent in delay meant a terrible whipping and a much more-to-be-dreaded night with the rats and mice in the attic.
"Seeming to notice the troubled look on their little faces, 'Aunt Twaddles' exclaimed:
"'Now, darlings, I know these mountains as well as you know yonder streets of the village; and if you will take a short journey with me, I will gather you enough pennyroyal to last the wheezy, old Inn-keeper for the rest of his life.' And without waiting for them to reply, she gathered her big bag of herbs into her arms and arose, as if ready to start.
"Little Arthur looked up, amazed at her words, while Maud could scarcely believe her ears, so great was the promise of her dear, old, kind-hearted friend. Well did they recall the long, sorrowful journeys they had often made into the mountains in a vain search for the scarce herb;—journeys that were followed by terrible beatings. The mere thought of gathering enough pennyroyal to last their cruel old grandfather for the rest of his life made their little hearts fairly leap with joy."
"'Come, Maudie,' cried Arthur, as he leaped to his feet, 'let us go.'
"In a second the children were standing beside 'Aunt Twaddles' who, after shouldering her big bag of herbs, led the way.
"They journeyed along down the bank of the river past the end of the foot-bridge that led from the village, when, pausing at the foot of the dangerous path on the face of the cliff, 'Aunt Twaddles' rested her herb-bag on the ground for a moment, and, glancing first at the tall mountain and then at the children, she exclaimed, with a somewhat doubtful shake of her head:
"'It's a pretty stiff climb, children! It's a pretty stiff climb! But come on, let's go up!'
"Had 'Aunt Twaddles' asked the two children to rise like two eagles and soar high over the tops of the mountains, it would not have seemed to them more of a task than to walk up the bald face of that cliff; and for a long time they stood gazing upon 'Aunt Twaddles' as if they thought she had gone completely out of her head.
"Little Arthur suddenly exclaimed:
"'Why, Aunt Twaddles, we could never go up there.'
"As the children glanced at her face, they noticed a strange look in her eyes that startled them. Was it the look of an evil one seeking to lure two innocent children to certain death amid the cruel rocks of the mountain? Or was it the look of the witch that Old Nimrod, the hunter, had so often told them about as they sat at his feet by the fire in the old inn? That look that charmed wildcats and panthers and snakes into doing her will?
"Without further delay she shouted with a frown.
"'Oh yes, you can, children. You shall go up with me. How often have I gone up this path with double your weight as a load!'
"And gathering the thick twill of her skirt into a fold, she placed it tightly within the clasp of Arthur's hands, at the same time saying:
"'Come, Maudie, take hold by the side of your brother and hold fast.'
"And before the two frightened children could realize what they had done, they were high up on the side of the cliff and did not dare to let go.
"When they had climbed somewhat higher than the church spire that towered aloft over the village across the river, a fisherman, going to raise his nets, beheld them; and raising a shout of alarm, it was not long before the street in the village was filled with excited people. Men yelled with hoarse voices, pleading with 'Aunt Twaddles' to come down, but their voices sounded faintly upon the ears of the children, who hung dangling from the end of 'Aunt Twaddles'' skirt, high up in the air.
"The old, one-legged Inn-keeper hastened away, pounding his peg-leg on the boards of the bridge, in a vain effort to get over to where his squeaky voice might be heard; but without pausing to heed the tumult below, 'Aunt Twaddles' continued on up the face of the cliff, constantly warning the two children to 'Hold fast!'
"Old Jonas, the fisherman, with dripping fish net gathered under his arms, ran with all his might over the long foot-bridge and down the opposite bank, where strong men, with pale faces, aided him in stretching it at the base of the cliff, to catch, as he said, the lifeless and mangled bodies of the two children in case they should fall.
"Old Nimrod, the hunter, came tottering out of the bar-room at the inn, his long trusty rifle in hand, renewing his vow that 'Aunt Twaddles' was a witch, as he took rest on the rail of the bridge, firmly resolved to shoot her in case the children should let go. With eagle eye he gazed along the polished barrel of his gun and covered the sight-sickening climb with an unfaltering aim.
"Out in the village street, women stood crying and wringing their hands, while strong men turned white at the sight of the fat woman, swaying and wabbling from side to side in her effort to get up the face of the mountain.
"From the loud sound of her puffing and blowing, she seemed almost exhausted. Now she would stumble and totter as if about to fall, when, suddenly grasping with desperate hand a stout, scrubby bush, or a ledge of the broken rock, she would steady herself for a time and by the merest chance gain a fortunate foothold.
"Even the dogs began howling everywhere throughout the village. Every house stood wide-open and deserted. Someone entered the old village church and began slowly tolling the bell, the sound of which seemed to add a doleful appeal to Heaven for the safety and care of the children.
"Slower and slower, weaker and weaker, yet onward and upward, 'Aunt Twaddles' toiled on the face of the cliff, when suddenly one loud moan of horror swept from the parched throats of the multitude as 'Aunt Twaddles,' by accident, stepped on the end of her long skirt and reeling from the face of the rock, started to fall. Men turned from the horrible sight and sank to their knees, while over in the village women fell helpless into each others arms for support and turned from the sickening scene.
"The crack of a rifle rang out on the air from the end of the foot-bridge and a puff of blue dust arose from the face of the cliff just over 'Aunt Twaddles'' head, where the bullet had shattered the rock.
"Loud shouted the voice of Old Jonas, the fisherman, 'Stretch the net tight, men! Stretch the net tight! They are falling!' While strong limbs steadied themselves and firm hands drew tight on the meshes of stout twine.
"But Fate favors the brave who have presence of mind. 'Aunt Twaddles' laid firm hold on the arm of a deep-rooted bush, and, as she drew her swaying form close to the mountain, the frightened children, swung far out in mid air, like the pendulum of a clock, and then heavily back against the cliff. Still they held firmly on to her dress.
"Louder and louder the people now renewed their cries for 'Aunt Twaddles' to come down; but to attempt to descend in her weary condition meant certain death to all.
"Onward and upward she continued; and while the people below were suffering the anguish of suspense, with one last weary reach she laid firm hold on an overhanging arm of a dogwood tree that hung from above and, with a deep sigh of relief, drew both herself and the children to safety on top of the cliff.
"A murmur of joy went up from the dry, hoarse throats of the men at the base of the mountain, while women sank fainting far across in the streets of the village. Strong men broke down and wept under the spell of excitement. Old Nimrod, the hunter, ceased ramming the charge in his gun, and Jonas, the fisherman, shouldered his fish net; but he trembled so from excitement that he could not carry it home. The slow, solemn toll of the church bell turned into one long, loud ring of joy.
"A wild shout from high up in the air echoed and re-echoed over the broad valley below. Far up on the side of the mountain, the people beheld 'Aunt Twaddles' wildly waving her sun-bonnet and lifting the children into plain view. In a moment she lowered them again in the shade of a tree and then sank for a rest at their side.
"As the children sat gazing about on the beautiful scene below, they could plainly see the bent form of the old inn-keeper. He was rattling his peg-leg back over the bridge, and as he hobbled along he was shaking his head with an air of anxiety, thinking no doubt about the safety of the children, left to the mercy of a witch on the side of the mountain.
"'Mercy!' exclaimed 'Aunt Twaddles' with a deep, weary sigh, 'we will take a good rest before we go on, for that was a hard climb.'
"And now while 'Aunt Twaddles' and the two children are resting under the shade of a tree on the side of the mountain, we will rest for a moment, and I will thank you for a fresh drink of water before I go on with my story."
CHAPTER IV
THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAIN
As the "Prince of the Highway" finished the first part of his story and asked for a fresh drink of water before continuing, there was a wild, scampering foot-race between the two largest boys as they hastened away to the well, straining every muscle and nerve in the struggle to see who might have the pleasure of honoring the wanderer with a drink.
All the children that were seated upon the grass about the Vagabond, began working closer and closer toward him, forgetful now of the cool and almost unkind manner in which they had turned a deaf ear to his request for a drink when first he paused in the centre of the hot, dusty road. The little girls took off their bright colored sun-bonnets in order that they might not lose a single word that fell from the lips of the dust-covered story-teller.
"Mercy!" exclaimed one of the boys, as if just awakening from the scene that fancy had painted in his little brain. "Mercy!" again he exclaimed. "What a terrible climb! Isn't it a wonder that the two children could hold on so long?"
As the words fell from the lips of the little speaker, the assembled children seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, for they well remembered that the two children were safe on the side of the mountain.
Back over the lawn came the two boys bearing the water; and after the thirsty Vagabond had refreshed himself, he blinked his little black eyes and smacked his dry lips with evident delight, as thus he continued his story:
"'Aunt Twaddles' and the children, by this time, were well rested; and rising from the ground she took them by the hands and went slowly up through the mountain woodland.
"The effort was not nearly so tiresome as the long struggle on the face of the cliff had been, and for some time they made rapid progress; for the mountain rose in a gentle slope and the way was closely shaded by tall trees, that some weeks before had unfolded their bright foliage to the blue sky of spring.
"If nothing greater was to be expected, the journey was a delight in itself; and it was fully an hour before they paused in a merry group on the very top of the mountain.
"As their feet reached the level soil of the mountain crown, 'Aunt Twaddles' dropped her big bag of herbs for a moment of rest, and turning to the children, she exclaimed:
"'There, darlings, at last! Now gaze about you on the great underworld and see if this isn't worth all the trouble and toil that we had on the face of the cliff?'
"Almost dumb with surprise, the children turned about to gaze upon the world that lay far beneath them.
"For some time they stood looking upon familiar scenes, dwarfed now by the distance. The two children, both seeming to think of this fact, were wondering in their little minds how they would ever get down the side of the mountain, for they were really so high that it made them quite dizzy to look below.
"Almost dumb with surprise, the children turned about to gaze upon the world that lay far beneath them."
"Way down in the deep valley, like the houses of so many pygmies, nestled the village of Harpers Ferry, where the foot-bridge appeared like a narrow strand of dark tape, stretching across a snow-white stream.
"Far to the westward, the long winding path of the Potomac River glistened in the bright sunlight like a spotless streamer of snow-white ribbon, sweeping with many a graceful curve far away into a narrow trail.
"Nearer by, dashing with loud, rumbling roar against the foot of the Blue Ridge mountains on the very top of which they were standing, the foaming, frolicking Shenandoah could be seen here and there, leaping between the tall rocky cliffs with merry, gamboling shout that arose like a song to their ears.
"Green wheat-fields, like so many squares of bright velvet carpet that good farmers had laid out in the sunlight to air, were plainly in view up the broad valley; and the blossoming peach-trees on the far distant hillsides, that stood bathing in the full glory of the day, looked to them like so many tiny rose bushes just bursting into full bloom.
"Nearer by on the mountain ridge, a stray mocking-bird sat in a tree top, testing his ruffled throat by bursting forth in a wild, beautiful chant, but changing the notes every moment or so to mock the sweet song of some one of his feathered acquaintances.
"Now sweet and low he was singing the song of the linnet and calling them all about him from their busy labor of nest building. Now he was causing the blue bird to flutter forth in jealous anger by softly coaxing away its mate. Then, uttering a loud shrill whistle, he sank into silence, waiting a reply to his eloquent call from some greatly deceived 'Bob White' that was eating its dinner far off in a bramble of mountain shrubs.
"Now sweet and low, he sang a song all his own; so sweet that the linnet and thrush grew silent; so tremulous and low that it called back his faithless mate from its wanderings. Then growing bold and defiant, with frantic effort, he carolled forth music wild and shrill, as if challenging the rest of the song birds to a relentless vocal war.
"A gray squirrel barked high up in the top of the tall chestnut tree under which they were standing, and far down in a deep, cool hollow below, they heard a plumed pheasant drumming his battle tune unchallenged upon a log.
"'Come, children,' exclaimed 'Aunt Twaddles,' 'let us go!'
"They followed the ridge of the mountain for some time; but the journey was made so delightful and charming by the wonderful scenes beneath them that the two children did not seem to notice just how far they had travelled, although they had gone a great distance and everything about and beneath them seemed new and changed.
"Suddenly they turned to the left from the mountain ridge and passed down into a dark ravine, the sides of which were so very high that 'Aunt Twaddles' said the sun never shone anywhere within its dark bounds, not even during the noon hours of midsummer.
"It was a dark and gloomy place indeed, filled with great pitfalls of slimy, green liquid, from which arose an unpleasant odor; while there was barely enough light for them to see that the steep sides of the ravine were covered with a damp mould.
"With a feeling of relief they emerged from this horrible place to find themselves entering a beautiful and heavily wooded glen.
"'Aunt Twaddles' informed them that the gloomy ravine through which they just passed was called 'The Valley of Dry Bones,' for the reason, as she said, that the bird or animal once entering it scarcely ever came out alive, and that what few did escape death were mere skeletons.
"'And how is it that we are not skeletons, Aunt Twaddles, now that we have passed through the valley?' exclaimed Arthur, with an inquiring glance.
"'Because we have used the power of reason, my dear, which no bird or animal except man possesses,' she replied. Then, pausing to glance back, she continued: 'Knowing the dangers of the valley, I used the power of reason and laid my course. If you do not use the power of reason, my boy, you will often find yourself in the Valley of Dry Bones as you journey along through life.'
"Arthur would have questioned 'Aunt Twaddles' further, but they were now in a beautiful glen; and as they journeyed along he turned about to behold the lovely creations of nature that lay on every hand.
"The glen was not very wide, and the leafy branches of the tall, overhanging trees were so mingled together that the bright sunlight could not break through, while the beautiful wild flowers seemed striving to outdo each other in spreading their perfume about on the balmy air. Yet search as they might, there was not a spray of pennyroyal anywhere to be seen.
"A second glance over the glen proved it to be a most picturesque spot indeed; for the rocks that arose here and there from the flower-covered soil were not dark and weather-stained like those along the Shenandoah River, and the wild ferns and perfumed flowers tempted the observing children to stay their steps.
"'Now,' exclaimed 'Aunt Twaddles,' as they walked slowly along, 'this beautiful glen, my darlings, is called Temporary Delight, which means short pleasures; for, as you see, we are near its end.'
"Looking up, the children were surprised to behold in front of them a mountain of solid stone.
"They had not met with a greater surprise during their entire journey than this towering cliff of rock that now barred their way; and little Maud, suddenly hushed, dropped her flowers upon the ground and turned with a troubled look to 'Aunt Twaddles' as she said in a trembling voice:
"'Aunt Twaddles, the flowers are beautiful, but, see, they fade as quickly as they are plucked, and are not worth carrying. Besides, I do not see any pennyroyal. How shall we ever get beyond this great mountain?'
"'Aunt Twaddles' was standing on the top of a rock, the summit of which she had reached with a mighty bound; and as she noticed the troubled look on the faces of the children, she laughed until her fat sides fairly shook, when she said to little Maud in reply:
"'The pleasures of life, like these flowers, are never very lasting, my dear. Never mind, you shall have your pennyroyal. Just learn to wait and be patient, for all things require time.'
"She made an effort to whistle, but her fat cheeks refused to make other than a low hissing sound.
"It was enough. There was an answering warble from far off in the woodland, then a sudden flutter of swift crimson wings among the near-by branches. In another second a beautiful Red Bird came sailing down the dark glen and, greatly to the surprise of the two children, lighted upon one of 'Aunt Twaddles'' shoulders where it began to sing a most beautiful song.
"In the excitement of the moment, Arthur dropped the handful of withered flowers he had gathered for his little sister, and with hands half raised, shouted for her to turn quickly that she might behold the wonderful bird; but the startling cry of the boy was hushed as he beheld the Red Bird drop from its slender claw a bright golden key into the outstretched hand of 'Aunt Twaddles', and then sail away into the woodland.
"'Aunt Twaddles' stepped toward the cliff and, turning to the surprised children, she waved the golden key in the air, as she said in her usually kind way.
"'Now, children, listen. I know the old one-legged miser who keeps the Inn at the Ferry and have known him ever since he was an ill-tempered boy who respected not the will of his parents. I knew your brave father, too, let me say, many years before he marched gallantly away to the war from which he never returned. Often have I given your sweet mother a bite of my candy, long, long before she went to live with the angels. And now, for the love of yourselves, as well as for the memory and respect that I bear your dear, dead parents, I am going to give you that moment of peace and joy that the cross old miser so begrudges you down at the Inn.'
"With that she faced the mountain and placed the golden key in a deep crevice of the rock, at the same time repeating some strange and mysterious words.
"There was a deep, rumbling roar within, that sounded like the angry roll of distant thunder and greatly frightened the children; when, with a tearing crash, the tall mountain parted at the centre.
"Pieces of bursting rock went flying through the air in every direction.
"Great columns of smoke rose upward and spread over the entire sky like a mighty cloud.
"The severed cliff rolled away to the side and there before them stood the entrance to a deep, dark cave that looked gloomy and filled with danger.
"At first, little Arthur and Maud drew back in affright and stood ready to fly up the glen for their lives; but 'Aunt Twaddles,' turning toward them, exclaimed in calm, easy tones:
"'Fear not, my children! Fear not, for I am your friend!'
"Then without another word she entered the mouth of the dark cave and at the chiming sound of a deep-toned bell, the cavern became filled in a second with a million bright and glowing lights, the like of which no mortal eye had ever beheld.
"The two little children, now overcome with amazement, stood for the moment speechless and motionless in the presence of the strange scene that lay before them.
"The great flood of light that poured from the cavern illumined the scene with a strange beauty, that, falling upon the clear, crystal-like rocks of the glen, seemed to make them glow with sparkling radiance like so many diamonds; and the wild flowers of the woodland and the foliage of the trees hung trembling beneath the magic glare that the flood of fire cast upon them from the mouth of the enchanted cave.
"Both Arthur and Maud seemed enchanted too. They could have remained upon the spot perfectly contented, for a long time, had not 'Aunt Twaddles' broken the spell by calling them. Taking each by the hand, she led them into the cavern.
"Instead of the rough, rude, unpolished walls of dark stone that the two children had expected to find, they were surprised to see the beautiful crystallized formations that hung everywhere from the roof of the cavern. The whole place seemed to be one living blaze of light. The floor was as smooth as a piece of glass and so polished that it might have answered the purpose of a mirror.
"They stood gazing about the great cave for some time, when 'Aunt Twaddles' hurried them on their journey, exclaiming:
"'Come, children, for we have far to go!'
"They walked rapidly on through the cavern for some distance, not failing, however, to take time to explore its most interesting parts.
"It was not long before they came to a broad river that, with its swift current, dashed through the great cave with mighty roar. 'Aunt Twaddles,' realizing that in order to proceed upon their journey they had to cross this stream in some manner, paused with the two children on the shore. They stood at the edge of the water, gazing far out over the tide and wondering what they were going to do, when, at a wave of command from 'Aunt Twaddles,' a water sprite rose slowly from the tide and in another instant stood bowing and scraping before them.
"He was a most curious-looking creature indeed; and, although bearing little or no resemblance to the people of the earth, he was not at all bad to look upon.
"His face beamed constantly with a broad smile, that spread his wide mouth with its thin lips almost from ear to ear; while, in addition to a good pair of arms, and hands with long, bony but webbed fingers, he had, on either side of his shoulder blades, broad fins like a fish, which, no doubt, he used in his progress through the water.
"His head ran up to a very sharp point on the top—not a bad feature at all for diving, as it was sharp like a boat. His eyes, instead of setting crosswise in his head, as the eyes of most everything do, set straight up and down with an eyebrow running along on either side of his nose, the sight of which caused little Arthur almost to laugh in his face.
"As he thus stood smiling and bowing before them, 'Aunt Twaddles' turned to the two children and said:
"'I left a boat here on this side of the river but this mischievous creature has taken it away. We had him sent to this underground river because one night he cut off the beautiful hair of a mermaid and made it into a wig for himself. I wish you could have seen him when he appeared the next day with his false golden locks and dark skin. He really looked as ridiculous as some of those women who have yellow hair and black eyebrows.'
"With that she made a movement of the hand and the sprite leaped straight upward into the air, almost as high as the roof of the cavern; then, turning a somersault in mid air, he landed head first in the water with a splash and was gone.
"It was not long before a big boat came swiftly across the stream. No one was in it, no one was pushing it, and no one was pulling it, so far as anyone could see. It came rapidly on and landed with great care directly in front of 'Aunt Twaddles' and the children, and without visible aid, bore them swiftly across the stream and landed them safely on the other side of the river, where they resumed their journey.
"As they walked slowly along under the glaring light, the children beheld long rows of shelves covering one entire side of the cavern. When Arthur inquired of 'Aunt Twaddles' what they might be, they paused for a moment while she informed them that this great cavern was the Store House for the seeds of all the flowers and fruits that grew in 'Beauty Valley.'
"Although Arthur wanted to inquire further about 'Beauty Valley,' for he had never heard its name mentioned before, his inquisitive nature was silenced; for, scarcely had 'Aunt Twaddles' finished telling about the wonderful places to be found in the enchanted cave, when they came to its end and found themselves stopped by the presence of a great stone door.
"For a moment, 'Aunt Twaddles' stood before this door, waving her fat arms in a strange, frantic manner, as if she had entirely gone out of her mind. In a low tone she uttered many strange words, which the children did not understand; and you can imagine their surprise as they beheld the stone door move quickly but silently to one side, and a flood of golden sunlight sweep into the cave.
"They were now very anxious indeed to know what new wonder might lie before them.
"As the stone door rolled away, the enchanted cavern again became dark and the children wanted to hasten out into the sunshine at once; but the voice and hand of 'Aunt Twaddles' caused them to stay their steps, as in earnest tones she exclaimed:
"'Wait, darlings! We must wait until the Red Bird comes back with a message before we dare step upon this sacred soil.'
"And before she had finished speaking, a beautiful Red Bird flew into the mouth of the cavern and lighted upon 'Aunt Twaddles' shoulder. She whispered some strange words into its ear and it darted rapidly away.
"And now while 'Aunt Twaddles' and the children are waiting the return of the magical Red Bird in the mouth of the great cave, we will wait here for a moment of rest while the boys bring some fresh water from the well, for I know some of you are quite thirsty."
And the Vagabond, wiping the perspiration from his dusty brow, sank into silence and began fanning himself with his tattered black hat.
CHAPTER V
THE VILLAGE OF HIDE AND SEEK
As the Vagabond ceased speaking, a murmur passed completely around the party, and it was easily seen that the children were delighted with the story so far as it had gone.
Three of the boys arose, and bidding their near-by companions hold their places in the charmed circle, dashed away to the well for water. The rest of the children closed in about the now smiling wanderer and sat silently gazing upon him, thinking, no doubt, how fortunate they were in having given him a drink of water when he first paused in the roadway.
By this time they were almost willing to give him the well itself if he desired it.
The three boys hastened back with the water, and the Vagabond, having passed it around to the children, dampened his brow with the remainder, and wiping it dry on his coat sleeve, waited for the boys to be seated.
A robin came from far across the field and lighted in the top of the tree under which they were seated, as if it, too, wanted to hear a part of the story. Turning his eye for a second upon the red-breasted songster, the Vagabond continued his tale.
"A little time soon passes away like the song of that robin above us; and it was not long before the Red Bird returned with a noisy flutter of its crimson wings, while the clang of deep-toned bells sounded within the cavern. As the great stone door moved slowly into place, 'Aunt Twaddles' and the children stepped from the mouth of the cave with a merry bound into the sunlight.
"Before them lay a broad, beautiful, green valley, that, at a first glance, seemed to be shut in by tall mountains on all sides; while in the centre of a blue-grass lawn rose a village of tiny play-houses, each as perfectly and as carefully built as the home of some boasted citizen of wealth and fame.
"Each house was ornamented with a vine-covered porch and green window shutters, while through the open windows and doorways floated a balmy, midsummer atmosphere, laden with mingled perfume of wild honeysuckle, orange blossoms and roses,—so charming that I, a poor vagabond, am at a loss for suitable words to describe it.
"The village itself was laid out in wide, well-paved streets with a great public square in the centre, where arose a most beautiful building of white marble, ornamented here and there with figures of doll babies carved from the solid stone.
"The streets stretched away from the public square in every direction for considerably more than a mile and so charmed and bewildered were the children by this unexpected sight that, for a long time, they stood looking at it, fairly trembling with delight.
"From the side of a cliff that formed part of a mountain near where they were standing, a great rock projected far over their heads like a rugged shelf, to which a winding staircase of pure onyx gave easy access. A golden throne stood far out on this rocky shelf from which all parts of the village, as well as of the valley, could be seen with a sweeping glance.
"Before the children had time to make any inquiry, 'Aunt Twaddles' took them by their hands and led them up this glistening stairway to the golden throne, where they stood looking about over the wonderful surroundings.
"'Make yourselves at home,' said 'Aunt Twaddles,' as she sank back with a sigh of relief into a golden chair; but when little Maud turned to thank her politely, she found her little heart so full of gratitude and joy she was unable to speak a single word.
"Down in the village of tiny play-houses, bright, happy-faced dolls were playing upon the clean streets and out on the lawn of the public square; while hundreds of dolls were streaming in and out of the beautiful building around which lay the miniature village.
"They were laughing and talking, chatting and romping, until the air fairly echoed with the sound of their merry voices. Many, separated from the rest in groups, were playing all sorts of games; and so firmly were the bright eyes of the children riveted upon the gamboling, playful beauties that nothing seemed able to draw their attention away.
"Over the village hung an unclouded arch of bright, blue sky, while scattered everywhere on the green lay toys and playthings of every known kind that might either amuse or instruct the doll babies.
"Some dolls were busily engaged in running toy steam engines. Others were spinning their tops on the streets of the village. Still others were sending up crimson and yellow and blue balloons and watching them pass out of sight or burst in mid-air.
"Off in a vacant place a number of boy dolls were flying their kites, and others were playing baseball and tennis; while marbles in millions lay scattered all over the ground. Little Arthur, eyeing them enviously, turned to his sister and said:
"'Mercy! Wouldn't I like to have some of those beautiful toys down in Harpers Ferry.'
"Maud's only reply to her delighted brother was a long-drawn sigh, on the very breath of which she exclaimed:
"'Oh, Arthur! Look at the beautiful dolls!'
"For a long time the children watched the dolls as they romped upon the clean streets and green playgrounds. Finally, little Maud looked up at 'Aunt Twaddles' and inquired with a serious air and softened voice:
"'Aunt Twaddles, is this Heaven?'
"A sudden smile spread over 'Aunt Twaddles'' big fat face. Leaning forward toward the edge of the golden throne, she placed her head between the two children, and pointing to the village with a clumsy, awkward hand, she said:
"'This beautiful spot, my dear children, is the Village of Hide and Seek. You might truthfully call it a heaven for the dolls, for they never have any trouble or sorrow here.'
"Little Maud breathed a deep sigh as she turned again to her friend and exclaimed in breathless surprise:
"'The Village of Hide and Seek! What a beautiful place! And I never heard of it before!'
"She sank into silence when she saw a little doll bowing very politely, as it introduced one little doll to another whom they happened to meet on a side street of the village.
"The question asked by his little sister and so beautifully answered by 'Aunt Twaddles,' paved the way for Arthur to ask some questions himself. Turning to 'Aunt Twaddles' he said:
"'Aunt Twaddles, what is that beautiful white building with the tower of gold standing in the very centre of the public square? See! The dolls are hurrying to it from every direction!'
"When the boy had finished speaking, 'Aunt Twaddles' took one sweeping glance over the village and replied:
"'That fine building, my darlings, is the Temple of Music. When the clock in its tower strikes twelve all the dolls will come out of the Temple, and, gathering on the green about the band stand, they will all begin to sing.'
"Arthur and Maud glanced away toward the clock that stood just beneath the golden dome in the tower of the Temple of Music. It was five minutes to the hour; yet the dolls were forsaking their playthings all over the village and rapidly hastening to the Temple. In a moment more the streets of the village were deserted.
"There lay their thousands of fine toys with no one to molest them. There stood their play-houses with wide-open windows and doors and no one to touch the fine furniture within; while beyond lay the broad, green, but now idle playground.
"The hands of the clock in the tower closed slowly, one upon the other, as if in loving embrace.
"One, two, three, came the sound of the chime in the belfry, and thus it continued until the last stroke of twelve, when, from the wide-open doors of the Temple of Music, the dolls filed out into the public square and formed themselves in circling rows around the band stand.
"In glittering raiment of silver and gold lace, the Doll-Baby Brass-Band of fully five hundred pieces appeared on the scene and took its place in the band stand.
"A marshall, or music master, climbed to his place on a pedestal.
"There was a loud tap of his gold baton and the instruments went up to the lips of the happy-faced players. Then came a firm wave of command; and one grand, wild burst of sweet melody fell upon the ears of the delighted children, so overcome by the sight and sound they had to lean upon the side of the golden throne, as all the dolls in the village thus began to sing:
"'Oh come to the Village of Hide and Seek,
For Little Boy Blue, and Little Bo-Peep,
With Hi-Diddle-Diddle, the Cat and the Fiddle,