Chapter 9 A DAY TO BE REMEMBERED.

It was great fun unpacking the baskets, and Tom made himself very useful to the ladies; so much so, that Miss Goldthwaite felt constrained to whisper one word of praise in his ear, which sent a glow to his heart. Surely never was meal so enjoyed as that lunch on the summit of Pendle Peak; and they lingered so long over it, that Judge Keane passed a great many jokes on the gigantic appetites, and professed great concern about the small quantity of provisions left for tea.

When plates and forks and knives were stowed in the waggon again, the party broke up in twos and threes, and went off exploring. Lucy was tired, and said she would remain beside the goods and chattels, whereupon the judge declared he would keep her company. Mr. George and Miss Goldthwaite went off together to search for ferns, they said; while Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom went to the ravine on the other side of the Peak to find some rare specimens of wild flowers Miss Keane was anxious to secure for her collection. The judge was to whistle at four o'clock, if they had not then returned; and promised to have tea ready, which was considered a great joke. Lucy sat on the smooth green turf, leaning against a boulder, feasting her eyes on the beauty, of which she thought her eyes could never tire. The judge lay on the grass with half-closed eyes, looking at the girl's sweet face, wondering why it looked older and sadder and more womanly than it ought. It was a good while before either spoke.

"Would you mind telling me, Judge Keane, please," said Lucy timidly, "where Newhaven lies from here, and how far it is?"

The judge raised himself on his elbow, put on his gold eye-glass, and looked along the plain. "There, straight as the crow flies, little one," he said, pointing west. "It is about thirty miles in a direct line from where we sit; by rail about fifty, I think."

"It is a long way," she said, and a little sigh followed, as if she wished it nearer.

"You lived in Newhaven, I think, didn't you?" asked the judge.

"Yes, sir, till mamma died. It is not a nice place, but I love it dearly."

Ay, for a quiet grave there held the loved father and mother who had once made for her a happy home.

The judge did not speak, he did not know what to say just then, and Lucy did not seem to expect an answer. He shut his eyes again, and there was a long silence. Thinking he slept, Lucy rose, and, gently laying a rug over him, slipped away. He opened his eyes directly and watched her. She only moved a few yards from him, and knelt down with her face to the west. He heard a few faltering words, followed by a sob-"O dear papa and mamma, I wonder if you can see Tom and me to-day, and know how happy we are. God bless the dear friends who have made us so, for Christ's sake. Amen."

The judge's lips twitched beneath his mustache, and when Lucy rose again, he drew the rug up over his face, not wishing her to see that he had heard that little prayer. But he never forgot it. Two hours did not take long to slip away, and then the judge sat up and looked at Lucy with a comical smile.

"It is ten minutes to four, little one, and there isn't a sign of the wanderers. Suppose you and I make tea: do you think we could manage it between us?"

"Oh yes, sir; I know how to build a fire, and make tea too, and there are sticks in the waggon. May I try?"

"Of course, and I'll help to the best of my limited ability."

Lucy went to the waggon and got out sticks and the kettle, while the judge made an amateur stove between four stones. Lucy then laid the fire, and in a minute there was quite a cheerful little blaze. Water was the next thing, and the judge remembered there used to be a tiny spring a few yards down the slope, which was found without any difficulty; and he brought back the kettle filled, and placed it on the fire. He had so many odd remarks to make about his new occupation, that Lucy was kept laughing pretty nearly all the time. It was getting on for five o'clock before four heads appeared at the edge of the slope. Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom arrived laden with flowers and ferns, and reported themselves exhausted, and thankful to see that tea was ready. George and Carrie had not been seen since they departed at two o'clock."

"You made tea all by yourself, Lucy," said Miss Keane, laying her kind hand on Lucy's sunny head. "Clever little maiden, how are we to thank you?"

"Judge Keane helped me, Miss Alice," replied Lucy blushing and smiling.

"Helped! I should think I did," said the judge tragically: "she sat on the waggon like a queen, and commanded me like a slave. She looks meek and mild enough, but don't trust her."

"Papa, how much nonsense do you talk in a day?" she said. "I wish the other two would turn up; I'm famished."

"Are we to wait on them, papa?" inquired Minnie piteously. "I guess they don't want any tea: lovers never want anything to eat. Mayn't we have it now?"

"Yes," said Miss Keane.-"Lucy dear, may I trouble you for the teapot.-Papa, hand the sugar, and make yourself useful."

"What a real nice boy your brother Tom is," said Minnie Keane, dropping down by Lucy's side. "We had a splendid time down there, while Alice and Mr. Goldthwaite talked out of books. Aren't you very fond of him?"

"Of Tom? Of course I am," answered Lucy; "you know I have nobody but him, and he has nobody but me."

"Lucy, your tea is delightful," said Mr. Goldthwaite from the other side of the table-cloth. "I don't know when I enjoyed anything so well."

"Hunger is good sauce," said the judge;-"here are the truants." Mr. George Keane and Miss Goldthwaite appeared now, apparently very much astonished to find themselves behind time. The judge made room for Carrie beside himself, and after looking blankly at her for a few minutes, said solemnly, "I thought I heard you say you wanted ferns; but I must have been mistaken, or possibly they haven't come up in the glen this year.-Some tea here, Alice.-Miss Goldthwaite, may I help you to a piece of cake?" The truants joined in the laugh against themselves, and the rest of the meal was passed in a perfect babel of talking.

"What shall we do now, papa?" said Alice when they had finished. "We won't be going home for a little while."

The judge looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes past five: we shall start at six. Well, I propose that each member of the company composes, within the space of ten minutes, four lines of verse descriptive of the scenery. I have brought pencils and paper; and the best writer shall have my gold pencil-case to him or her self."

There was a general exclamation, and each one declared it impossible to perform such a feat.

"Try," said the judge briefly; and he passed round the pencils and the sheets of paper. Then he laid his watch on the cloth, and gave the signal. You would have laughed at the utter stillness then, and at the perplexity on each face. Slowly the hands moved round, till the ten minutes were up, and the judge cried halt.

"You read then, judge," said Mr. Goldthwaite; "begin with your own."

"Well, here I am," said the judge with a very comical smile, and he read slowly and distinctly:-

"It seems to me that if you go

Enjoyment for to seek,

You'll find out all you want and more

Up here on Pendle Peak."

A shout of laughter greeted th is effusion, and the judge pretended to be highly offended.

"I object to the 'for' in the second line," said Mr. Goldthwaite.

"Do you think I don't know it has no business there?" said the judge. "But I couldn't get it to rhyme, so I was obliged to put in something. It is not bad for an old fellow who never made two lines rhyme before in his life. Come then, Frank, pass up yours."

"To read a page from Nature's book,

In this deep solitude,

Uplifts the heart in purer aims,

And leads us nearer God."

"True, Frank," said the judge solemnly. "You have beaten me hollow anyway.-Now, Carrie."

"Mine is very poor indeed, Judge Keane," said Carrie, as she passed up her slip. "Like yours it is my first attempt."

"The beauty of the hills,

So calm, so free, so bright,

Can dim my eyes with tears,

And fill me with delight."

"Very good" was the verdict; and then Miss Keane reluctantly gave up her paper.

"How still it is! No rude discord

Falls on the ear;

We feel all earthly thoughts and aims

Must vanish here."

That also was pronounced "very good," and Judge Keane feared he should have some difficulty in adjudicating the prize. Mr. George Keane's was the next.

"I never wrote a poem, but since

You will not be refused,

I do declare I don't know how,

And beg to be excused."

"You have no chance anyway, George," said his father, laughing with the rest. "It has not the remotest reference to the subject in hand.-Well, Lucy."

"Mine last, please," pleaded Lucy.

So the judge took the paper from Minnie's hand and read,-

"Papa, you know I can't make verse,

And it was very bad

Of you to make us play at this,-

I tell you I'm real mad."

There was another shout at Minnie's performance, and then Lucy timidly slipped her paper into the judge's hand, and drew back behind Minnie. The judge read very slowly this time, and every beautiful word was distinctly heard.

"The calm, still brightness on the hills,

The beauty on the plain,

Fill all my heart with strange sweet joy,

That is akin to pain.

"We stand upon a stepping-stone

Up to the Better Land;

I seem to see the glory there,

And feel my Father's hand.

"And hovering near me seem to be

The loved ones gone before;

One day we'll mount God's stepping-stones,

And weep earth's tears no more."

There was a moment's surprised silence. All eyes were turned to Lucy, who shrank further back with a very distressed face.

"The prize is yours, Lucy," said Judge Keane at length.-"Who would have thought this shy little maiden was the poet of the company?"

There were many other remarks made, which seemed to distress Lucy so much that they held their peace at length, and the judge remembered Tom's contribution had not been called for.

"You thought you were to escape, young man," said he, as he received the paper from Tom's reluctant hand. "Perhaps the last may be best yet, who knows? Well, I never-ha! ha!"

He held up the paper, and lo, a sketch of the circle of anxious faces, with paper and pencil before them, and every expression true to the life. It was wonderfully well done, and created much amusement as it was handed round the company.

"The pencil-case is Lucy's," said the judge. "But I think you deserve a special prize, my lad. Will you let me keep this? Robert must see it."

"Yes, sir, of course," answered Tom. "When I felt a pencil in my hand I had to draw. I always feel so."

"True artist; eh, Carrie?" whispered the judge, and she nodded assent. She had not yet recovered from the surprise Lucy had given her.

"The sun is thinking of setting," said the judge then. "We must be preparing to depart."

There was a general move, and Miss Keane and Miss Goldthwaite proceeded to clear the table.

"Let us sit here and see the sun set, and have a talk, Lucy," said Minnie, drawing Lucy a little apart. "What a perfectly elegant poem that was you wrote. It's 'most as good as Whittier's George reads to mamma sometimes. I guess you'll grow up to be a Mrs. Whittier."

"Oh no," said Lucy, laughing a little; "Miss Keane's was just as good, I think, only I wrote more. How funny yours was."

"I should think so. Mopsy, or Ted, or Silver Tail could do just as well, I believe.-Tom, won't you draw me a picture of my very own to keep? I wish you'd come up and do the kittens; won't you? I ask Robert every time he comes, but he just teases me."

"I'll draw a kitten for you if you like," answered Tom readily, "but I can't promise to come up and do it."

Before very long Billy was harnessed again, and after bidding a reluctant good-bye to the Peak for another year, the descent was begun. Lucy walked part of the way with Mr. George Keane's arm to help her along, and Miss Goldthwaite beckoned Tom to her side.

"I haven't seen much of you to-day, Tom," she said pleasantly. "Have you had a nice day?" "I shall never forget it, Miss Goldthwaite," answered Tom very gravely.

And though after years brought many happy excursions up the Peak, never was one so exquisitely enjoyed as this had been. The sun had dropped behind the hill when the tired party reached the Red House, and a big moon was coming up serenely in the opal sky. Mr. and Miss Goldthwaite paused at the avenue gate, saying they would not come any further; so the good-nights were said there and the company separated.

"Good-night, my little poetess," whispered the judge as he lifted Lucy from the waggon. "Go on writing, my dear; we will hear of you yet." And he kissed her as he set her to the ground, and added softly, "You have done an old man good to-day though you did not know it."

It was a very quiet walk home by the river-side to the parsonage, but the thoughts were all pleasant ones. Mr. Goldthwaite had not spoken much to Lucy all day, but he had watched her, how closely she did not know. He held her hand at parting, and looked straight into her beautiful eyes, his own very grave and earnest.

"God bless you, Lucy; good-night." She wondered a little at the oddness of his manner. "My soldier has shown to advantage to-day," said Miss Carrie, smiling as she shook hands with Tom. "I have been very proud of him."

"Lucy," said Tom, as they turned into the paddock at Thankful Rest, "do you know what I'm going to do when I'm a man?"

"Be a great painter," answered Lucy promptly. "What else?"

"Anything else?" inquired she in much surprise.

"I'm going to marry Miss Goldthwaite!"

Lucy laughed outright.

"You can't, Tom; she's going to marry Mr. George Keane, Minnie told me."

"Is she? Well, Mr. George Keane is a very good fellow," said Tom in a tone which would have infinitely amused that gentleman had he heard it; "but he isn't half good enough for her.-O Lucy, hasn't this been a day?"

"Yes," answered Lucy, and she turned full eyes up to the quiet sky. "I think papa and mamma must see us, and be glad we have been happy."

"I feel so too," answered Tom with the sudden beautiful earnestness which had often come to him of late.-"Kiss me, Lucy; there are only you and I."

She put her arm about his neck, and kissed him as he wished; then the two went very soberly into the house.