CHAPTER III.
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE.
Mr. Birkenfeld's large house was situated on the summit of a green hillwith a lovely view across a lake to a richly-wooded valley beyond. Fromearly spring to the end of autumn, flowers of every hue glistened andglowed in the bright sunshine that seemed always to lie on those lovelymeadows. Near the house was the stable, in which stamped four spiritedhorses, and there, also, many shining cows stood at their cribs,peacefully chewing the fragrant grass with which they were well-suppliedby the careful Battiste, an old servant who had served the family for manyyears. When Hans, the stable-boy, and all the other servants were away,busy on the estate, it was Battiste's habit to walk round from time totime through the stalls, to make sure that all was as it should be. For heknew all about the right management of horses and cattle, having been inthe service of Mr. Birkenfeld's father when he was a mere lad. Now that hewas well on in years, he had been advanced to the position ofhouse-servant, but he still had an eye upon the stable and over the wholefarm. The mows were neatly filled with sweet-smelling hay, and the binswere piled full of wheat and oats and barley, all the product of the farm,which extended over the hill-side far away into the valley below. On theside of the house opposite the barnyards stood the wash-house with itsspacious drying-ground, and not far away, but quite concealed by a highhedge from the house and garden, was the tiny cottage which the owner hadkindly allowed the school-master's widow to occupy for several years past.
On the evening of which we write, the warm sunlight lay softly on thehillside, revealing the red and white daisies which nestled everywhere inthe rich green grass. A shaggy dog was basking in the open space beforethe house door, lazily glancing about now and then to see what wasstirring. All was quiet, however, and he peacefully dozed again after eachsurvey. Occasionally a young, gray cat peeped slily forth from beneath thedoor-step, stared at the motionless sleeper and cautiously withdrew again.Everything denoted peace and quiet except certain sounds of voices and ofgreat activity which proceeded from the back of the house, where the doorleading into the garden, stood open.
Presently wheels were heard, and a wagon drove up and stopped before thedoor of the widow's cottage. The dog opened his eyes and pointed his ears,but it was evidently not worth while to growl at something in the nextplace, so he dozed off again at once. The newly-arrived guests descendedfrom the carriage, and entered the cottage in silence. There they werecordially welcomed by Mrs. Kurd, and shown to the rooms reserved for them,and soon Aunt Ninette was busy in the large chamber unpacking her bigtrunk, while Dora in her little bedroom soon emptied her little box andput her clothes in the other room, which was to be his study, Uncle Titusalso sat at a square table, busy placing his writing materials inreadiness for work. Dora ran again and again to the window, whence she sawvery different sights from any she had ever looked upon before. Greenfields sprinkled with many-colored flowers, the blue lake, the snow-cappedmountains in the distance, and over all, the enchantment of thegolden-green light from the setting sun. The child could scarcely tearherself away from the window. She did not know that the world could be sobeautiful. But her aunt soon recalled her from her wonderment, for therewere still things to be put away which belonged to her, but had beenbrought in her aunt's trunk.
"Oh, Aunt Ninette," cried the child, "Isn't it perfectly beautiful?"
She spoke louder than she had ever thought of speaking in Uncle Titus'house, for the new scenes had aroused her natural sprightliness, and shewas herself once more.
"Hush, hush Dora! Why, I don't know what to make of you, child! Don't youknow that your uncle is in the next room, and is already at work?"
Dora took her things from her aunt's hands, but while passing the window,she asked softly,
"May I just look out of these windows a minute now, Aunt? I want to seewhat there is on every side of the house."
"Yes, yes, you may look out for a moment. There is nobody about. A quietgarden lies beyond the hedge. From the other window you see the big openspace in front of the great house. Nothing else but the sleepingwatch-dog before the door. I hope he is always as quiet. You may look outthere too, if you like."
Dora first opened the window towards the garden; a delicious odor ofjasmine and mignonette was wafted into the room from the flower-bedsbelow. The high green hedge stretched away for a long distance, and beyondit she could see green sward and flower-beds and shady bowers. How lovelyit must be over there! There was no one in sight, but some one certainlymust have been there, for by the door of the house rose a wonderfultriumphal arch, made of two tall bean-poles tied together at the top, andthickly covered with fir-branches. A large piece of card-board hung downfrom the arch, and swung back and forth in the wind, and something waswritten on it in big letters.
Suddenly a noise resounded from the open space in front of the greathouse. Dora ran to the other window and peeped out. A carriage stood thereand two brown horses there stamping impatiently in their traces. A crowdof children came bursting out of the door of the house, all together; one,two, three, four, five, six, both boys and girls. "I, I, I must get uponthe box," cried each one, and all together, louder and louder at everyword; while in the midst of the crowd, the great dog began to jump uponfirst one child and then another, barking joyfully in his excitement. Sucha noise had probably not greeted Aunt Ninette's ears within the memory ofman.
"What is the matter, in heaven's name," cried she, almost beside herself."What sort of a place have we come to?"
"Oh Aunty, look! see; they are all getting into the carriage," cried Dora,who was enchanted at the sight. Such a merry party she had never seenbefore.
One lad jumped upon the wheel, and clambered nimbly to a seat on the boxbeside the driver, from which he reached down his hand towards the dog,who was jumping and barking with delight.
"Come Schnurri, you can come too," cried the boy at the top of his lungs,at the same time catching at the dog, now by his tail, now by his paw, andagain by his thick hair, until the driver leaned down and pulled thecreature up beside them, with a strong swing. Meantime the eldest boylifted a little girl from the ground, and jumped her into the carriage,and two younger boys, one slender, the other round as a ball, began toclamor, "Me too, Jule, me too, a big high one! me higher still!" and theyshouted with glee, as they too were lifted up and deposited on the seat.Then Jule helped the older girl into the carriage, jumped in himself, andgave the door a good smart bang, for "big Jule" had strong muscles. Thehorses started; but now another cry arose.
"If Schnurri is going, I can take Philomele with me. Trine! Trine! bringme Philomele, I want to take Philomele!" shouted the little girl as loudas she could call.
The young, strong-fisted servant-maid who now appeared in the door-way,grasped the situation at once. She seized the gray cat that stood on thestone step casting angry looks at Schnurri, and flung her into thecarriage. The whip cracked, and off they rolled.
Aunt Ninette hastened into her husband's room in great alarm, not knowingwhat effect all this disturbance would have upon him. He was sittingcalmly at his table, with all the windows in the room closed and fastened.
"My dear Titus! who could have foreseen this? What shall we do?" shecalled out in tones of despair.
"It strikes me that the next house has a great wealth of children. Wecannot help that, but we can keep the windows shut," replied her husbandresignedly.
"But, my dearest Titus, only remember that you have come here expresslyto breathe the healthy mountain air! As you never go out, you must let theair come in to you. But what will be the end if this is the beginning?What will become of us if this goes on?"
"We must go home again," said Uncle Titus, continuing to write.
Somewhat calmed by this proposition, Aunt Ninette returned to her room.
Dora had been very busy, putting her little room in perfect order, for shehad formed a plan, which she meant to carry out as soon as this was done.The happy noise of the six children had so excited the lonely little gi
rlthat she was filled with the strongest desire to see them come back again,to see them get out of the carriage, and to see what would happen next;whether they wouldn't perhaps come into the garden where the triumphalarch stood, and then she could have a nearer view. She had made a littleplan for watching them if they came into the garden. She thought that shemight perhaps find a hole in the hedge that divided Mrs. Kurd's littlegarden from the large grounds next door, through which she could get agood view of what the children were doing, and how they looked. The childdid not know what Aunt Ninette would say to this, but she determined toask directly. At the door of her aunt's room she met Mrs. Kurd, who hadcome to call them to supper. Dora made her request then and there, to beallowed to go into the little garden, but her aunt said that it was nowsupper time, and after supper it would be quite too late. Mrs. Kurd putin a word in Dora's favor, saying that no one would be out there, and itwould be safe for Dora to run about there as much as she chose, and atlast Aunt Ninette consented to allow her to go out for a while aftersupper. The child could scarcely eat, so great was her excitement. Shelistened all the while for the sound of the returning wheels and thechildren's voices, but nothing was to be heard. When supper was over, heraunt said,
"You may go out now for a little while, but don't go far from the house."
Dora promised not to leave the garden, and ran off to search the hedge forthe opening she wanted. It was a white-thorn hedge, and so high and thickthat the child could see neither through it nor over it, but down nearthe ground were here and there thin places, where one could look into thenext garden; but only by lying close on the ground. Little did Dora mindthat; her one idea was to see the children. She had never seen so large afamily, boys and girls, big and little, and all so happy and merry. And tohave seen them all climbing into the carriage and driving off together!What a jolly party! She lay down on the ground in a little heap, andpeered through the hedge. There was nothing to be heard; the garden beyondwas still; the odor of the flowers was wafted to her on the cool, eveningair, and she felt as if she could not get enough of it into her lungs. Howbeautiful it must be in there, she thought; to be able to walk about amongthe flower-beds! to sit under the tree where the red apples were hanging!And there under the thick branches stood a table, covered with all sortsof things which she could not see plainly, but which shimmered white assnow in the evening light. She was quite absorbed in wonder and curiosity,when--there--that was the carriage, and all the merry voices talkingtogether. The children had returned. Dora could hear very plainly. Now allwas still again; they had gone into the house. Now they were coming outagain; now they were in the garden.
Mr. Birkenfeld had just returned from a long journey. The children had allgone down to the lake, to meet him at the landing when the steamboat camein. Their mother had remained at home to complete the preparations forthe grand reception and the feast in the garden under the big apple-tree.The father's home-coming after so long an absence was a very joyfuloccasion for the family, and must be celebrated as such.
As soon as the carriage stopped at the door, the mother came running outto meet her husband. All the children jumped down, one after another, andthe cat and the dog too, and they all crowded into the large hall, wherethe welcomings and greetings grew so loud and so violent that the fatherhardly knew where he was, nor which way to turn as they all pressed abouthim.
"Now one at a time, my children, and then I can give you each a goodkiss," he said at last, when he succeeded in making himself heard throughthe tumult, "first the youngest, and then the others according to age.Now, my little Hunne, what have you to tell me?"
So saying, Mr. Birkenfeld drew his chubby five-year old boy to his knees.The child's name was Hulreich, but as he had always called himself Hunne,the other children and the parents had adopted the nick-name. Moreover,Julius, the eldest brother, declared that the baby's little stumpy nosemade him look like a Hun, and so the name was very appropriate. But hismother would not admit the resemblance.
The little one had so much to tell his father, that there was not time towait for the end of his story, and it had to be cut short.
"Bye and bye, little Hunne, you shall tell me all about it. Now it istime for Wili and Lili." And giving the twins each a kiss he asked them,"Well now, have you been very good and happy? and obedient, too, all thislong time?"
"Almost always," replied Wili rather timidly, while Lili, recallingcertain deviations from perfect obedience during her father's absence,thought it best not to make any answer. The twins were eight years old,and perfectly inseparable, never more so than in planning and carrying outvarious delightful plans, of whose mischievousness they were really onlyhalf conscious.
"And you, Rolf, how is it with you?" said the father, turning to atwelve-year old lad with a high forehead, and a strong, firm neck. "Plentyof Latin learned? More new puzzles ready?"
"I have been doing both, father," said the boy. "But the children will notguess my riddles, and my mother has not time to try."
"That is too bad," said his father, kindly and turning to the eldestdaughter, a girl of nearly thirteen, he drew her to his side and saidtenderly,
"And you Paula, are you still alone in your garden walks? have you no dearfriend with you yet?"
"No, of course not, father, but it is beautiful to have you at homeagain," she answered as she embraced him.
"And I hope my 'big Jule,' is using his vacation in some sensible way?"
"I combine the agreeable with the useful," said Julius gaily, returninghis father's embrace. "You must know, father, that the hazel-nuts arealmost ripe and I am watching them carefully, and meantime I am ridingCastor a good deal, so that he may not grow too lazy."
Julius was at home now only for the summer holidays, his school being in adistant town. He was seventeen, and tall, even too tall for his years sothat in the family he was generally called "Big Jule."
Mr. Birkenfeld now turned to shake hands with the children's governess andthe dear friend of the family, Miss Hanenwinkel, when Jule interruptedhim.
"Come papa, I beg that you will do the rest of your greetings in thegarden, where a most astonishing reception awaits you."
But his words cost him dear, for Wili and Lili sprang upon him as hespoke, pinching, pounding and thumping him to give him to understand thatthe "surprise" was not a thing to be talked about beforehand. He defendedhimself to the best of his ability.
"Lili, you little gad-fly, you, stop, stop, I tell you. I will make it allright," and he shouted to his father,
"I mean you are to go into the garden where my mother has prepared allsorts of delicious things for your supper, to celebrate your return."
"That is delightful. We shall find a big table spread under my favoriteapple-tree. That is a surprise worth having. Come then let us all go intothe garden."
He drew his wife's arm in his, and they walked out to the garden, thewhole swarm following, Wili and Lili capering about in most noisy delightthat their father should suppose that he knew what the "surprise" wasalready.
As they passed out into the garden they passed under the great triumphalarch, with red lanterns hung on each side, lighting up the large tablet,on which was an inscription in big letters.
"Oh, oh, how splendid!" cried the father, now really surprised, "abeautiful arch and a poem of welcome. I must read them aloud:"
"Here we stand in welcome Beside the garden door, How glad we are that you're at home! We feared you'd come no more, So long you've stayed--but now to-day Forgot is all our pain. The whole world now is glad and gay, Papa is here again!"
"That is fine--Rolf must have been the author of that, was he not?" andWili and Lili jumped about more than ever, crying out,
"Yes, yes, Rolf wrote it, but we planned it all out and he made theverses, and Jule put up the poles and then we fetched the fir twigs."
"That was a delightful surprise, my children," said their father, muchgratified. "How pretty the garden looks, all lighted up wit
h red and blueand yellow lanterns. It looks like an enchanted spot, and now for myfavorite apple-tree."
The garden did look very pretty. The little paper lanterns had been madeup a long time before, and this very morning Jule had fastened them abouton all the trees and high bushes, and while the hand-shaking and kissinghad been going on in the house, Battiste and Trine had lighted thecandles. The big apple-tree was dotted all over with them, so that itlooked like a huge out-of-doors Christmas tree, and the red apples shoneso prettily in the flickering light, that altogether it would have beendifficult to imagine a more charming scene.
The table, spread with a white cloth and loaded with all sorts of nicedishes, looked irresistibly attractive.
"What a beautiful banquet-hall," cried the delighted father, "and how goodthe feast will taste! But what is this? Another poem?" and to be sure, alarge white placard hung by two cords from the high bushes behind theapple-tree, and on it were the following lines:
"My first is good for man to be-- Better than wealth. My second we have longed to see Our father do in health. My whole with merry hearts we cry Today, and shout it to the sky."
"A riddle! Rolf made this too, I am sure," said he, clapping the boykindly on the shoulder. "I will begin to guess it as soon as I can. Now wemust sit down and enjoy these good things before us, and the pleasure ofbeing all together again."
So they all took their places at the table, and each had his or her ownstory to tell of what had happened, and what had been done during theseparation. There was so much to say that there seemed no chance for apause.
At last however, came a silence, when lo! Mr. Birkenfeld drew a hugebundle from beneath his chair, and began to open the wrapper, while thechildren looked on with the greatest interest, knowing very well that thatbundle held some gift for each one of them. First came a pair of shiningspurs for "big Jule," then a lovely book with blue covers for Paula. Nexta long bow with a quiver and two feather arrows. "This is for Rolf," saidthe father, adding as he showed the boy the sharp points of the arrows,"and for Rolf only, for he knows how to use it properly. It is not aplaything, and Wili and Lili must never dream of playing with it, for theymight easily hurt themselves and others with it."
There was a beautiful Noah's Ark for the twins, with fine large animalsall in pairs, and Noah's family, all the men with walking-sticks and allthe women with parasols, all ready for use whenever they should leave theark.
Last of all, little Hunne had a wonderfully constructed nutcracker, thatmade a strange grimace as if he were lamenting all the sins of the world.He opened his big jaws as if he were howling, and when they were snappedtogether, he gnashed his teeth as if in despair, and cracked a nut in twowithout the slightest trouble so that the kernel fell right out from theshell.
The children were full of admiration over both their own and each others'presents, and their joy and gratitude broke out afresh at every newinspection of each.
At last the mother stood up and said that they must all go into thehouse, for it was long after the children's usual bed-time. At this theirfather arose, and called out,
"Who has guessed the charade?"
Not one had even thought of it, except to be sure, the author.
"Well, I have guessed it myself," said their father, as no one spoke. "Itmust be 'welcome,' is it not, Rolf? I will touch glasses with you, my boy,and thank you very much for your charade."
Just as Rolf was raising his glass towards his father's to drink hishealth, a terrible shriek arose, "It is burning, it is burning!" Everybodyran from under the apple-tree; Battiste and Trine came from the house withtubs and buckets, Hans from the stable with a pail in each hand; allscreaming and shouting together.
"The bush is on fire! the hedge is on fire!" There was terrible noise andconfusion.
"Dora! Dora!" cried a voice of distress from the cottage behind the hedge,and Dora rose from her hiding place and hurried into the house. She hadbeen so completely absorbed by what had been taking place under theapple-tree, though indeed she saw and heard but imperfectly, that she hadentirely forgotten everything else, and it was full two hours that she hadbeen lying all doubled up in the gap under the hedge.
Her aunt was flying back and forth, complaining and scolding. She hadcollected all her things from the drawers and the presses, and heaped themtogether, ready for flight.
"Aunt Ninette," said the little girl timidly, for she knew she had staidout too long, "you need not be frightened; it is all dark again in thegarden; the fire is all out."
Her aunt cast a rapid glance from the window, and saw that this was true;everything was dark, even the last lantern extinguished. Some one wasmoving about among the trees, evidently to make sure that all was safe.
"This is too terrible! Who would have believed that such things couldhappen?" said Aunt Ninette, half scolding, half-whimpering. "Go to bed nowDora. To-morrow we will move away, and find another house, or leave theplace altogether."
The child obeyed quickly, and went up to her little bedroom, but it waslong, very long, before she could sleep. She still saw the illuminatedgarden, the sparkling apple tree, and the father and mother with theirhappy children gathered about them. She thought of the time when she toocould tell her father everything, and the thought doubled her sense of herown loneliness, and of the happiness of those other children.
And the child had become so much interested in the life beyond the hedge,and so almost fond of that good father and mother, whom she had beenwatching, that the thought of going away again as her aunt threatened, wasa very sad one. She could not go to sleep. Presently she seemed to see thechildren with their kind father again, and her own father was standingwith them, and she heard these words,
"God holds us in his hand, God knows the best to send."
And so she fell asleep, and in her dreams she again saw the shiningapple-tree, and the merry group under its branches.
On investigating the cause of the fire, it was discovered that Wili andLili had conceived the happy thought of turning the riddle into atransparency, so that suddenly the company might see it shining with redlight behind it, like the motto behind the Christmas tree, "Glory to Godin the highest."
So they withdrew silently from the company, fetched two candles, climbedupon some high steps, which had been brought when the placard was put inplace, and held the candles as near as possible to the card. As they didnot perceive any expression of surprise on the faces of the company at thetable, they raised their candles higher and higher, nearer and nearer,until the paste-board suddenly took fire, and the flame quickly spread tothe bushes above.
The twins readily confessed themselves the cause of the mischief, and weresent to bed with but a gentle reproof, so as not to spoil the generaleffect of the festivity, but they were seriously warned never to play withfire again as long as they lived.
Soon all was quiet in the great house, and the moon looked peacefully downon the trees and the sleeping flowers in the silent garden.
Uncle Titus and His Visit to the Country Page 3
