The Children's Portion Part 10

In fifteen minutes the train would be along and then she would go back.

Idly gazing down from her secure height, her eye was suddenly caught by something creeping along the ground. Letty's keen sight at once decided this to be a man--a man with a log in his hand. This log he carefully adjusted across the track.

"What a very curious--" began Letty. But her exclamation was cut short by the awful intuition that the man meant to wreck the on-coming train.

All thought of private sorrow fled in an instant. What could she do?

What must she do, for save the train she must, of course. Who else was there to do it? And oh, such a little time to do it in. To go around by the path would take a half-hour. To climb down the side of the ravine would be madness. Suddenly her mind was illuminated. Yes, she could do that, and like the wind she was up at the house and back again, only this time she steered for a spot a hundred rods up, just the other side of the curve.

In a trice she had whipped off her scarlet balmoral, the balmoral she hated so, and had attached to it one end of the hundred feet of rope she had brought from the house.

Could she do it? Could she crawl out on that branch there and hold that danger signal down in front of the train?

She shuddered and covered her face with her hands. O, no, no, she never could do it. Suppose she should fall off or the limb break. But she wouldn't fall, she mustn't fall. Hark! There is the engine. If she is going to save the train there is no time for further delay.

With a prayer for guidance and protection, slowly, oh so slowly, that it seemed hours before she got there, Letty crawled out to the branch and dangled below her, across the track, her flag of danger. She could not see what was going on, because she dared not look down. So, looking constantly up (and, children, believe me, "looking up" is one of the best things you can do when in danger or trouble), and sending a silent wordless pet.i.tion for the safety of the train, Letty held her precarious post. Hark, it is slowing up. Her balmoral has been seen and the train is saved. The tension over, she cautiously turned and crawled slowly back to land, and then dropped in a dead faint.

Recovering, however, she went slowly up to the house, trembling and sick and s.h.i.+vering with the cold from the loss of the warm skirt hanging on the clothes-line down in the ravine.

Relaxed and limp she sat down in the big rocker before the kitchen stove, a confused ma.s.s of thoughts racing through her head. Dazed and excited, she hardly knew how time was pa.s.sing until she heard the sound of wheels.

"O, Letty, the funniest thing--" shouted Laura, bursting into the kitchen.

"Wait, let me tell," interrupted Jamie. "Why, Letty, somebody's hung--"

"Somebody hung," exclaimed Letty, in horror. "Why, Laura Mason, how dare you say that was funny?"

"I didn't--" began Laura, indignantly, but here Mrs. Mason interfered with a "Sh-sh-sh, children, mercy, goodness, you nearly drive me wild.

Here. Laura, take mother's bonnet and shawl up-stairs.

"Here, Jamie, take my boots and bring me my slippers. I'm that tired I don't know what to do with myself. Goodness, but it feels good to get home. The strangest thing's happened, Letty. The afternoon express was coming into town this afternoon, and, when it was about two miles out, all of a sudden the engineer saw a red flannel petticoat hanging right down in the middle of the track, hanging by a clothes-line, mind, from the limb of a tree. He thought at first it was a joke, but changed his mind and thought he'd look further, and would you believe it, he found a great, big log across the track. If the train had come on that I guess there'd been more grief than Thanksgiving in this neighborhood to-morrow."

Mrs. Mason had said all this along in one steady strain, while she was walking round the room putting away her parcels.

Getting no response, she turned to look at Letty for the first time.

"Why goodness! The girl has fainted. What on earth do you suppose is the matter with her?

"Jamie, come quick. Get me some water.

"There," when the restorative had had the desired effect. "Why, what ailed you, Letty? You weren't sick when I went away. Bless me! I hope you ain't going to be sick, and such a surprise as we've got for you, too, out in the barn. But there. If that isn't just like me. I didn't mean to tell you yet."

"Why, mother, mother," exclaimed Father Mason excitedly as he rushed into the room. "Somebody's just come from the village with this,"

flouris.h.i.+ng Letty's skirt wildly around, "and they say the train was stopped right back of our house."

"For the land's sake, Job! Well, if that ain't our Letty's red balmoral. How did it--is that the--Letty, was it you?" she finished up rather disjointedly.

Letty nodded, unable to speak just then.

"Well, who'd 'a' thought it. So you saved the train! Do tell us all about it."

"Mother, don't you think we'd better wait a bit till she looks a mite stronger," suggested kind-hearted Job Mason.

"Well, I don't know but you're right, but I'm clean beat out. Don't you think, Job, that we might bring Letty's surprise--but there's the surprise walking in from the barn of itself. Tired of waiting, likely as not."

"Yes, Letty," broke in Laurie. "Did you know your brother had come home and that you saved his life this afternoon with that old red skirt of yours?" So the mischief was out at last, and though the excitement and everything nearly killed Letty, it didn't quite, or I don't think I would have undertaken to tell this story. I don't like sad Thanksgiving stories. Not that there aren't any; I only say I don't like them, that's all.

Well, sitting in her brother's lap--(what, fifteen years old?)--yes, sitting in her brother's lap, she had to tell over and over again all she thought and felt that afternoon, and to hear over and over again what a dreadful time they had keeping the secret from her. How they were so afraid that she would find out that they expected to meet her brother--how he had been so anxious that she should not be told lest by some accident he shouldn't arrive, and then she would be bitterly disappointed and her Thanksgiving spoiled.

Accident! Letty shuddered each time that they reached that part of the story, for she thought how nearly the accident had happened, and as she knelt to say her prayers that night it was with a penitent heart that she remembered how she had felt in the morning, and she had added fervently, "Dear Lord, I thank Thee for this beautiful Thanksgiving."

THE KNIGHT'S DILEMMA.

(FROM CHAUCER.)

One of the n.o.bles of King Arthur's court had grievously transgressed the laws of chivalry and knightly honor, and for this cause had he been condemned to suffer death. Great sorrow reigned among all the lords and dames, and Queen Guinevere, on bent knees, had sued the king's pardon for the recreant knight. At length, after many entreaties, Arthur's generous heart relented, and he gave the doomed life into the queen's hands to do with it as she willed.

Then Guinevere, delighted at the success of her suit with her royal husband, sent for the knight to appear before her, in her own bower, where she sat among the ladies of her chamber.

When the knight, who was called Sir Ulric, had reached the royal lady's presence, he would have thrown himself at her feet with many thanks for the dear boon which she had caused the king to grant him. But she motioned him to listen to what she had to say, before she would receive his grat.i.tude.

"Defer all thanks, Sir Knight," said the queen, "until first I state to thee the conditions on which thou yet holdest thy life. It is granted thee to be free of death, if within one year and a day from this present thou art able to declare to me what of earthly things all women like the best. If in that time thou canst tell, past all dispute, what this thing be, thou shalt have thy life and freedom. Otherwise, on my queenly honor, thou diest, as the king had first decreed."

When the knight heard this he was filled with consternation and dismay too great for words. At once in his heart he accused the king of cruelty in permitting him to drag out a miserable existence for a whole year in endeavoring to fulfill a condition which in his thoughts he at once resolved to be impossible. For who could decide upon what would please all ladies best, when it was agreed by all wise men that no two of the uncertain s.e.x would ever fix upon one and the same thing?

With these desponding thoughts Sir Ulric went out of the queen's presence, and prepared to travel abroad over the country, if perchance by inquiring far and wide he might find out the answer which would save his life.

From house to house and from town to town traveled Sir Ulric, asking maid and matron, young or old, the same question. But never, from any two, did he receive a like answer. Some told him that women best loved fine clothes; some that they loved rich living; some loved their children best; others desired most to be loved; and some loved best to be considered free from curiosity, which, since Eve, had been said to be a woman's chief vice. But among all, no answers were alike, and at each the knight's heart sank in despair, and he seemed as if he followed and ignis fatuus which each day led him farther and farther from the truth.

One day, as he rode through a pleasant wood, the knight alighted and sat himself down under a tree to rest, and bewail his unhappy lot.

Sitting here, in a loud voice he accused his unfriendly stars that they had brought him into so sad a state. While he spoke thus, he looked up and beheld an old woman, wrapped in a heavy mantle, standing beside him. Sir Ulric thought he had never seen so hideous a hag as she who now stood gazing at him. She was wrinkled and toothless, and bent with age. One eye was shut, and in the other was a leer so horrible that he feared her some uncanny creature of the wood, and crossed himself as he looked on her.

"Good knight," said the old crone, before he could arise to leave her sight, "tell me, I pray thee, what hard thing ye seek. I am old, and have had much wisdom. It may happen that I can help you out of the great trouble into which you have come."

The knight, in spite of her loathsomeness, felt a ray of hope at this offer, and in a few words told her what he was seeking.

As soon as she had heard, the old creature burst into so loud a laugh that between laughing and mumbling Sir Ulric feared she would choke herself before she found breath to answer him.

"You are but a poor hand at riddles," she said at length, "if you cannot guess what is so simple. Let me but whisper two words in your ear, and you shall be able to tell the queen what neither she nor her ladies nor any woman in all the kingdom shall be able to deny. But I give my aid on one condition,--that if I be right in what I tell, you shall grant me one boon, whatever I ask, if the same be in your power."

The knight gladly consented, and on this the old hag whispered in his ear two little words, which caused him to leap upon his horse with great joy and set out directly for the queen's court.

When he had arrived there, and given notice of his readiness to answer her, Guinevere held a great meeting in her chief hall, of all the ladies in the kingdom. Thither came old and young, wife, maid and widow, to decide if Sir Ulric answered aright.

The queen was placed on a high throne as judge if what he said be the truth, and all present waited eagerly for his time to speak. When, therefore, it was demanded of him what he had to say, all ears stretched to hear his answer.

"n.o.ble lady," said the knight, when he saw all eyes and ears intent upon him, "I have sought far and wide the answer you desired. And I find that the thing of all the world which pleaseth women best, is to have their own way in all things."

When the knight had made this answer in a clear and manly voice, which was heard all over the audience chamber, there was much flutter and commotion among all the women present, and many were at first inclined to gainsay him. But Queen Guinevere questioned all thoroughly, and gave fair judgment, and at the end declared that the knight had solved the question, and there was no woman there who did not confess that he spoke aright.

On this Ulric received his life freely, and was preparing to go out in great joy, when suddenly as he turned to go, he saw in his way the little old woman to whom he owed the answer which had bought his life.