Hildegardes Neighbors | Page 6

am Will Merryweather," said the black-eyed boy.
"I am very glad to see you, Will. I hope you and Hugh will be friends,
for it is so nice to have friends of one's own age, and Hugh has no one.
You, of course, have brothers and sisters, and that is the best of all, isn't
it?"
There was no resisting Hildegarde's smile; the young Merryweather
wavered, smiled, smiled again, and in five minutes they were all seated
together, and chatting away like old friends.
It appeared that Master Will was pleased with his new surroundings,
but that the absence of a base-ball nine was a tragic thing, not lightly to
be contemplated. The house was "no end;" the dwelling they had just
left was entirely too small for them.
"You see," he said, "when we went to that house we weren't born at all,

most of us; that is, there was only Bell and the boys. So it was big
enough then, and they had rooms to themselves, and all kinds of things.
But then we began to come along, and at last it got so small that the
boys had to sleep in the barn, and when there was more than one visitor
I had to go on the parlour sofa, and it's a beast of a sofa to sleep
on,--haircloth, you know, and you slide off all night; so father thought
we'd better move, and we came here."
"Is Bell your eldest sister?" asked Hildegarde, not sure how far it would
be right to question this frank youth.
"Yes, that's Bell. She's no end nice and jolly; and she's in college, you
know, and we have such larks when she comes home."
In college! Hildegarde's hopes fell. She knew she could not get on with
college girls, though she had great respect for them. Dear me! Probably
Bell would be very learned, and would despise her as an "unidead girl."
Cruel Dr. Johnson, to originate that injurious epithet!
At this moment she heard a fresh, joyous voice calling,--
"Will! Willy boy! W--I--Double--L, where are you?"
"That's Bell," cried Will, starting up. "She's come after me."
"Here I am, Bell!" he shouted. "Here's a jolly place; come along! I say,
may she come along?" he added, turning to Hildegarde with a
conscience-stricken look. Hildegarde nodded eagerly, hoping that his
request had not been heard. Just beyond the Ladies' Garden was a high
board-fence which separated Braeside from the neighbouring place. At
the top of this fence appeared two small but strong- looking hands, and
following them, a girl's face, blue-eyed, rosy- cheeked and smiling.
"You little rascal!" cried the girl; and then she caught sight of
Hildegarde. "Oh, I beg your pardon!" she cried, hastily. "I didn't
know,--I was looking for my brother--"
"Oh, please come up!" cried Hildegarde, running to the fence. "Please
come over! Oh, you mustn't hang by your hands that way; you'll get
splinters in them. You are Miss Merryweather, and I am Hildegarde
Grahame; so now we are introduced, and let me help you over, do!"
Hildegarde delivered this breathlessly, and held out both hands to help
the stranger; but the latter, with a frank smile and a nod, drew herself
up without more ado, perched on the top of the fence, then sprang
lightly to the ground.
"Thank you so much!" she said, warmly, taking Hildegarde's

outstretched hand. "Of course I didn't know I was trespassing, but I'm
glad I came. And oh, what a lovely place! I didn't know there was such
a place out of a book. Oh, the hedges! and the brook! and the trees!
How can it be real?"
Hildegarde nodded in delight. "Yes!" she said. "That is just the way I
felt when I first saw the place. It was some time before I could feel it
right to come here without apologizing to the ghosts."
"Your ancestors' ghosts?" said Bell Merryweather, inquiringly. "Aren't
they your own ghosts? Haven't you lived here always?"
Hildegarde explained that the place had belonged to a cousin of her
mother's, who left it to her at his death.
"Oh!" said Miss Merryweather; then she considered a little, with her
head on one side. Hildegarde decided that, though not a beauty, the
new-comer had one of the pleasantest faces she had ever seen.
"On the whole," the girl went on, "I am rather glad that my theory was
wrong. The truth is less romantic, but it makes you much more real and
accessible, which is, after all, desirable in a country neighbourhood."
"Do tell me what you mean!" cried Hildegarde.
Miss Merryweather laughed.
"If you are quite sure you won't mind?" she said, tentatively. "Well,
your place is so beautiful,--even apart from this--this-- bower of
nymphs,--it is so shadowed with great trees, and so green