A single cloud on a sunny day
When all the rest of heaven
is clear,
A frown upon the atmosphere,
That hath no business to appear,
When skies are blue and earth is gay.
Byron.
Come, dear grandpa!—the old mare and the
wagon are at the gate—all ready.”
“Well, dear!”—responded a cheerful
hearty voice, “they must wait a bit; I haven’t
got my hat yet.”
“O I’ll get that.”
And the little speaker, a girl of some ten or eleven
years old, dashed past the old gentleman and running
along the narrow passage which led to his room soon
returned with the hat in her hand.
“Yes, dear,—but that ain’t
all. I must put on my great-coat—and
I must look and see if I can find any money—”
“O yes—for the post-office.
It’s a beautiful day, grandpa. Cynthy!—won’t
you come and help grandpa on with his great-coat?—And
I’ll go out and keep watch of the old mare till
you’re ready.”
A needless caution. For the old mare, though
spirited enough for her years, had seen some fourteen
or fifteen of them and was in no sort of danger of
running away. She stood in what was called the
back meadow, just without the little paling fence
that enclosed a small courtyard round the house.
Around this courtyard rich pasture-fields lay on every
side, the high road cutting through them not more
than a hundred or two feet from the house.
The little girl planted herself on the outside of
the paling and setting her back to it eyed the old
mare with great contentment; for besides other grounds
for security as to her quiet behaviour, one of the
men employed about the farm, who had harnessed the
equipage, was at the moment busied in putting some
clean straw in the bottom of the vehicle.
“Watkins,” said the child presently to
this person, “here is a strap that is just ready
to come unbuckled.”
“What do you know about straps and buckles?”
said the man rather grumly. But he came round
however to see what she meant, and while he drew the
one and fastened the other took special good care
not to let Fleda know that her watchful eyes had probably
saved the whole riding party from ruin; as the loosing
of the strap would of necessity have brought on a trial
of the old mare’s nerves which not all her philosophy
could have been expected to meet. Fleda was satisfied
to see the buckle made fast, and that Watkins, roused
by her hint or by the cause of it, afterwards took
a somewhat careful look over the whole establishment.
In high glee then she climbed to her seat in the little
wagon, and her grandfather coming out coated and hatted
with some difficulty mounted to his place beside her.
“I think Watkins might have taken the trouble
to wash the wagon, without hurting himself,”
said Fleda; “it is all specked with mud since
last time.”
“Ha’n’t he washed it!” said
the old gentleman in a tone of displeasure. “Watkins!”—
