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She had no thought as to where she was going when she ran from the garden, and it was only chance that led her to the grove. She ran to the bridge and stood watching the rippling brook, as it rushed beneath it. Softly she crooned a little tune, for wee Dollie was never long unhappy.
The winds had kissed with fragrant touches, the birds had sung to her, the bees had crooned, and the early summer insects ventured upon faint chirps, as if they hardly knew whether they might be allowed to mar the radiant summer day. How divinely beautiful it was! Her head had fallen on her shoulder and the old tree rose gray and protecting.
"Oh my puir wean! My bonnie bairn!" crooned Mrs. Maitland, as she bent over the figure of her daughter who, clinging to Matthew's knees, was looking up into his face, as he lay back in his chair where he had fallen, when Mysie fell at his feet. "Oh, my puir lamb, you're wet to the skin, an' fair done; for God knows its an' awfu' mess you hae cam' hame in."
There was something in her Indian mother's voice she had never heard before at least, not since she was a little child, and swung in a deer-skin hammock in a tamarac tree by Renton's Lodge, where the chiefs met, and the West paused to rest on its onward march. Something of the accents of the voice that crooned to her then was in the woman's tones now.
And in upon these dreary musings broke an altercation between Mrs. Sin and her husband. "Keep the blasted thing covered up!" she cried hoarsely. "Tling-a-Ling wantchee catchee bleathee sometime," crooned Sin Sin Wa. "Hello, hello!" croaked the raven drowsily. "Smartest smartest smartest leg." "You catchee sleepee, Tling-a-Ling," murmured the Chinaman. "Mrs. Sin no likee you palaber, lo!"
It darted forth rays of light as it fell, and tinkled like a silver coin rolling down flights of marble steps. The Banshee corked the bottle and held it up proudly to the light. "Will you look at that, now?" she crooned. "The finest ever I brewed. Ah, the mystic droplet!
Possum was in a frenzy of agitation, whining, trembling, writhing, twisting, licking her face, all for forgiveness. "Heart of gold with a rose in his mouth," Saxon crooned, burying her face in the soft and quivering bundle of sensibilities. "Mother is sorry. She'll never bother you again that way. There, there, little love. See? There's your bone. Take it."
Alone, with no eye looking, she pressed her lips on his forehead. Courant's callousness roused a fierce, perverse tenderness in her. He might sneer at David's lack of force, but she understood. She crooned over him, moved his hair back with caressing fingers, pressing him against herself as if the strength of her hold would assure her of the love she did not feel and wanted to believe in.
He flung himself down among the rank gray grass and heather, while the moor cock called to his mate in an agony of pleading passion, the lapwing crooned upon a tuft of grass as she prepared a place for her eggs, the whaup wheepled and twirled and cried in eerie alarm, the plover sighed to a low white cloud wandering past; while the snipe and the lark, the "mossie," the heather lintie, and the wandering, sighing winds among the reeds and rushes of the swampy moss, all added their notes to soothe and satisfy the little wounded spirit lying there on the soft moorland.
The characteristic of girls having a disposition to rise, is to be cravingly mimetic; and they remembered, and crooned over, till by degrees they adopted the phrases and manner of speech of highly grammatical people, such as the rector and his lady, and of people in story-books, especially of the courtly French fairy-books, wherein the princes talk in periods as sweetly rounded as are their silken calves; nothing less than angelically, so as to be a model to ordinary men.
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