Virginia of Elk Creek Valley Part 22

"My hair makes me think of Priscilla," said Virginia, brus.h.i.+ng back some loose locks and re-tying her ribbon. "Wasn't she funny this afternoon when she said good-by, her hat on one side and her hair all falling down, and her eyes full of tears? I can't help saying all over and over how lovely it's been. And now another year's beginning, and in two weeks more you and I will go away to school again. I'm wondering," she finished thoughtfully, "I'm wondering if next June, when we ride up here, you'll say that I'm not a young lady after all."

"You don't feel you're going to be--too grown-up, do you?" There was anxiety in Donald's tone.

"No, not in the way you mean," Virginia promised him. "Not ever like Imogene or Katrina Van Rensaelar. But I _am_ growing up! I feel it coming!

It's just as though I'd met my older self and shaken hands with her before she went away again, for, you see, she hasn't come to stay for keeps yet.

I think she came the first time when Jim went away, and then again at Easter time when Miss King talked to us at Vespers, and then this summer when Aunt Nan told me about Malcolm. That time she stayed longest of all."

"I hope she won't be a lot different from you," said Donald. "I shouldn't want to have to get acquainted all over again."

"You won't," Virginia a.s.sured him. "Only she knows a lot more than I know, and she's told me a great many things already. That night on the mountain she came and stayed with me while Vivian and Carver were asleep. I learned so many things that night, Don. I'm just sure she taught them to me--she and the night and the stillness." Her voice softened. "Somehow, away up there on the mountain, life seemed such a big, wonderful thing--all full of dreams and opportunities and surprises and--and comrades, all going along the same trail. Don't you like to think of life as a trail--like the kind that leads to Lone Mountain, I mean--all full of dangers and surprises and beautiful things?"

"Yes," he said simply. His eyes as he watched her filled with pride in their comrades.h.i.+p--his and hers.

"And, oh, that makes me think!" she cried excitedly. "I've forgotten to tell you about the poem Miss Wallace sent me yesterday. You see, I'm collecting lovely ones, and she's such a help in sending them to me. I learned this one to say to you. Of course she didn't know, but it's just like we were the Christmas before I went away to school when you were home for the holidays. Don't you remember how we went for Christmas greens up Bear Canyon in that big snow-storm and didn't get home until long after dark, and how Jim and William were just starting to hunt for us? Listen! I know you'll like it. It's called 'Comrades.'

"'You need not say one word to me as up the hill we go (Night-time, white-time, all in the whispering snow),

You need not say one word to me, although the whispering trees Seem strange and old as pagan priests in swaying mysteries.

"'You need not think one thought of me as up the trail we go (Hill-trail, still-trail, all in the hiding snow), You need not think one thought of me, although a hare runs by, And off behind the tumbled cairn we hear a red fox cry.

"'Oh, good and rare it is to feel as through the night we go (Wild-wise, child-wise, all in the secret snow) That we are free of heart and foot as hare and fox are free, And yet that I am glad of you, and you are glad of me!'"

"Don't you like it, Don?" she finished eagerly. "I do. I like it because I think it shows the finest kind of friends.h.i.+p--the kind that makes you free to do just what seems right and best to _you_, and yet makes you glad of your friends. Miss Wallace calls it the friends.h.i.+p which doesn't _demand_, and it's her ideal, too. I'm sure she was thinking of that when she sent me the poem. And then I like it most of all because it makes me think of that Christmas, and the good time we had. Don't you like it?" she repeated.

In her eagerness she was all unconscious that she had given him no time to reply.

"Yes," he said. "I should say I do like it. I guess I'll copy it, if you don't mind. And, Virginia," he added, hesitating, "you don't know what our comrades.h.i.+p means to me. You see, when a fellow goes away to college the way I'm going, it helps him to be--to be on the square in everything, if he has a comrade like--like you've always been."

But there was no hesitation--only gladness in Virginia's frank gray eyes as she looked at him.

"Oh, I'm so glad!" she cried, her face flooded with happiness. "That's the very kind of a comrade I want to be, Don! I like to feel just as it says in the poem:

"'That we are free of heart and foot as hare and fox are free, And yet that I am glad of you, and you are glad of me!'"

THE END

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