about on their pink feet, arching their shining necks as they cooed
and pecked. Carrots and cabbage-leaves also flew out of the
window for the marauding gray rabbit, last of all Jack’s half-dozen,
who led him a weary life of it because they would not stay in the
Bunny-house, but undermined the garden with their burrows, ate
the neighbors’ plants, and refused to be caught till all but one ran
away, to Jack’s great relief. This old fellow camped out for the
winter, and seemed to get on very well among the cats and the
hens, who shared their stores with him, and he might be seen at all
hours of the day and night scampering about the place, or kicking
up his heels by moonlight, for he was a desperate poacher.
Jill took great delight in her pretty pensioners, who soon learned to
love “The Holly Tree Inn,” and to feel that the Bird Room held a
caged comrade; for, when it was too cold or wet to open the
windows, the doves came and tapped at the pane, the chippies sat
on the ledge in plump little bunches as if she were their sunshine,
the jays called her in their shrill voices to ring the dinner-bell, and
the robins tilted on the spruce boughs where lunch was always to
be had.
The first of May came on Sunday, so all the celebrating must be
done on Saturday, which happily proved fair, though too chilly for
muslin gowns, paper garlands, and picnics on damp grass. Being a
holiday, the boys decided to devote the morning to ball and the
afternoon to the flower hunt, while the girls finished the baskets;
and in the evening our particular seven were to meet at the Minots
to fill them, ready for the closing frolic of hanging on
door-handles, ringing bells, and running away.
“Now I must do my Maying, for there will be no more sunshine,
and I want to pick my flowers before it is dark. Come, Mammy,
you go too,” said Jill, as the last sunbeams shone in at the western
window where her hyacinths stood that no fostering ray might be
lost.
It was rather pathetic to see the once merry girl who used to be the
life of the wood-parties now carefully lifting herself from the
couch, and, leaning on her mother’s strong arm, slowly take the
half-dozen steps that made up her little expedition. But she was
happy, and stood smiling out at old Bun skipping down the walk,
the gold-edged clouds that drew apart so that a sunbeam tiiight
give her a good-night kiss as she gathered her long-cherished
daisies, primroses, and hyacinths to fill the pretty basket in her
hand.
“Who is it for, my deane?” asked her mother, standing behind her
as a prop, while the thin fingers did their work so willingly that
not~a flower was left.
“For My Lady, of course. Who else would I give my posies to,
when I love them so well?” answered Jill, who thought no name
too fine for their best friend.
“I fancied it would be for Master Jack,” said her mother, wishing
the excursion to be a cheerful one.
“I’ve another for him, but she must have the prettiest. He is going
to hang it for me, and ring and run away, and she won’t know who
it’s from till she sees this. She will remember it, for I’ve been
turning and tending it ever so long, to make it bloom to-day. Isn’t it
a beauty?” and Jill held up her finest hyacinth, which seemed to
ring its pale pink bells as if glad to carry its sweet message from a
grateful little heart.
“Indeed it is; and you are right to give your best to her. Come away
now, you must not stand any longer. Come and rest while I fetch a
dish to put the flowers in till you want them”; and Mrs. Pecq
turned her round with her small Maying safely done.
“I didn’t think I’d ever be able to do even so much, and here I am
walking and sitting up, and going to drive some day. Isn’t it nice
that I’m not to be a poor Lucinda after all?” and Jill drew a long