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Updated: June 22, 2025
We'll arrange the flowers on the back stoop, I think, and you might bring us some refreshment there." Frieda had gathered flowers eagerly, but without much discrimination. Miss Lyndesay helped her sort them and make several bouquets instead of one variegated one, talking with her the while of incidents of their journey, till Frieda was entirely at her ease.
It was a torrent of words this time, but Miss Lyndesay, listening, distinguished between essentials and non-essentials by a divine gift which had always been hers. "She doesn't seem the same Frieda," declared Hannah, at last. "I don't feel acquainted with her. Mamma says it is just because everything is new and strange to her.
The afternoon light was low and the little church she passed on her way seemed more than usually quaint and inviting. Half-way by, she turned irresolutely, then entered the churchyard. A local guide was showing a party of tourists about. Miss Lyndesay was turning away to avoid them, when a deep "Ach, so!" followed by a feminine "Wunderhübsch! Ganz malerisch!" fell on her ear.
Hannah is going to pick raspberries with me. I have a most beautiful old glass bowl to put them in." Frieda undertook the task assigned her joyfully, and Hannah followed Miss Lyndesay to the kitchen, where Aunt Abigail's old servant, inherited with the house, supplied them with pails for the berry-picking.
For as she turned, Frieda stepped on her train, and with shrieks both fell to the floor, splitting their hundred-year-old seams. Miss Lyndesay helped them up, laughing at their rueful faces, and kissing away the tears that would come at the sight of the havoc they had wrought. "Cheer up, dear hearts! It was purest accident. And Millicent's pretty gowns have served their purposes long ago.
She couldn't come in to meet the boat, because we've been at the shore until two days ago, and she was getting the house open; and Dad was too busy, so they sent me down with Karl. But I know if they were here, they would beg you to come. Can't you, please?" Miss Lyndesay took Hannah into her arms and kissed the warm red cheeks.
By the way, would you like that little old set in the guest-room for your library? I put it there, because there wasn't a shelf free anywhere else, and we are rather overstocked with the gentleman's writings in the rest of the house. Clara Lyndesay laughed at finding them there. She says she is going to write an essay some day on guest-room literature, and its implications."
Will you go to the Hielands, Lizzy Lyndesay, Will you go the Hielands wi' me? Will you go to the Hielands, Lizzy Lyndesay, My bride and my darling to be? Old Ballad. A former chapter opened in the royal confessional; we are now to introduce our readers to a situation somewhat similar, though the scene and persons were very different.
Miss Lyndesay smiled at Frieda and Frieda smiled in return, but had almost immediately to be drawn forcibly into the carriage by Karl. "You can see enough of America without putting your head out," he suggested. "It is an interesting country, but not worth so much effort, I assure you."
O, Aunt Clara, wouldn't Catherine love it?" Miss Lyndesay was so unused to the house, herself, that she took a keen delight in showing the girls all over it, taking them from one big room into another, and telling them how to appreciate the fine old furniture. "The hangings are all new," she explained. "Aunt Abigail's taste was not like her heart!
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