Witch Winnie Part 9

Adelaide explained matters, and the case of the Hettermans was discussed, Miss Prillwitz agreeing to take them in if we would a.s.sist in their support. "I shall leaf zem in my apartement for ze summer," she said, "for it is necessaire to me zat I go ze sh.o.r.e of ze sea, and I s'all take Giacomo with me, for I cannot bear to separate myself of him.

Zis is so near to your school zat Mrs. Hetterman can sleep her nights here. But I have not decided to myself where I shall repose myself for ze summer."

I spoke up quickly, referring her to Miss Sartoris for the beauties of our part of Long Island and for mother's low price for board. Miss Prillwitz was evidently pleasantly impressed. She thought she would like to study the seaweed of that part of the coast, and when she heard of the lighthouse, against which the birds of pa.s.sage dashed themselves, and how the keeper had kept their skins, waiting for some one to come that way and teach him to stuff them, she was quite decided in our favor.

I noticed that Winnie grew suddenly silent. As we left the house she pinched me softly. "You didn't mean any harm, Tib," she said, "but if they go, it will take every bit of pleasure out of my summer."

CHAPTER VII.

Winnie's confession.

[Ill.u.s.tration: {Drawing of Wilhelm Kalbfleisch.}]

Wilhelm Kalbfleisch, the butcher's boy, was one of the most uninteresting specimens of humanity that I have ever seen. That any of us would ever give him even a pa.s.sing glance seemed quite beyond the range of probability, and yet Wilhelm's stolid, good-natured face haunted Winnie's dreams like a very Nemesis, and came to acquire a new and singular interest even in my own mind.

We pa.s.sed a little Catholic church on our way to the boarding-school.

"We are early," said Winnie. "Let's go in."

It was Lent, and the altar was shrouded in black, and only a few candles burning dimly. We stood beside a carved confessional. A m.u.f.fled murmur came from the interior, and the red curtains pulsated as though in time to sobs.

"Let us go out," whispered Milly; "I am stifling."

She looked so white that I was really afraid she was going to faint. "I feel better," she gasped, when we reached the open air.

"It was frightfully close," Winnie said, "and the air was heavy with incense."

"It was not that," said Milly, "it was the thought of it all; that there was a poor woman in that confessional telling all her sins to a priest.

I never could do it in the world."

"It would be a comfort to me," said Winnie, fiercely. "I only wish there was some one with authority, to whom I could confess my sins, that I might get rid of the responsibility of them."

"There is," I said, before I thought; "'He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.'"

Winnie gave me a quick look. "You don't usually preach, Tib," she said, and burst into a merry round of stories and jokes, which convulsed the other girls, but did not in the least deceive me. I could see that she was troubled, and was trying to carry it off by riding her high horse.

"Girls," she said, "I want you to come around to the butcher's with me.

They have such funny little beasts in the window. I mean to get one, and the butcher's boy, Wilhelm, is such a princely creature--just my _beau ideal_--I want you to see him."

The funny little beasts proved to be forms of head-cheese in fancy shapes. Strange roosters and ducks, with plumage of gayly colored sugar icing, and animals of uncouth forms and colors. Winnie bought a small pig with a blue nose and green tail, all the while bombarding the butcher's boy, who was a particularly stupid specimen, with keen questions and witty sallies. He was so very obtuse that he did not even see that she was making sport of him.

As we hurried home to make up for our little escapade, Winnie amused us all by asking us how we thought Wilhelm would grace a princely station.

"Just imagine, for an instant, that he was the lost Prince Paradiso!

What a figure he would cut in chain armor, or in a court costume of velvet and jewels! Did you notice the elegance of his manners and the brilliancy of his wit?"

"Winnie, Winnie, have you gone wild?" Adelaide asked. "Why do you make such sport of the poor fellow? He is well enough where he is, I am sure."

"Is he not?" Winnie replied, a little more soberly; "I was only thinking what a mercy it is that people are so well fitted for their stations in life by nature. Now, think of Jim as a butcher, growing up to chop sausage-meat and skewer roasts!"

"Jim never could be a butcher," Adelaide replied; "even if Miss Prillwitz's dreams do not come true, the education she is giving him will do no harm. He will carve a future for himself."

We went into the house, and the subject was dropped. The next morning a message came from Miss Prillwitz that one of the Hetterman children was sick. It was the fever, contracted in their old home, and we were told that our botany lessons must be interrupted for the present. We heard through Mrs. Hetterman that the child was not very sick. It was one of the chubby little ones that had looked so well. She was quarantined now in Jim's room, the green one up under the roof, and had a trained nurse to care for her. Mrs. Hetterman did not see the child, but talked with her daughter Mary in the bas.e.m.e.nt every evening She thought it was a great mercy that they had completed their moving before the child was taken sick. This did not seem to me to be exactly generous to Miss Prillwitz, but I could not blame the mother for the feeling, for under the careful treatment the child speedily weathered the storm, and came out looking only a little paler for the confinement. We were expecting a summons to return to our lessons, when Mrs. Hetterman told us that Jim was sick. We were not greatly alarmed, for the little girl's illness had been so slight that we fancied we would see our favorite about in a fortnight.

Milly sent in baskets of white grapes and flowers, and Adelaide carried over a beautiful set of photographs of Italian architecture. "It may amuse him to look them over," she said, "and it is just possible that his ancestral palace figures among them."

Adelaide hoped to go to Europe as soon as she graduated. "If Jim is established in his rights by that time, I shall visit him," she said, "so, you see, I am only mercenary in my attentions to him now."

Winnie looked up indignantly, "Then you deserve to be disappointed."

Adelaide laughed merrily. "I thought you knew me well enough, Winnie, to tell when I am in fun. I like Jim so much, personally, that I would do as much for him if he had no great expectations; but I do not see that there is any harm in thinking of the kindnesses which he may be able to do me."

"If you don't count too surely on them. Miss Prillwitz has had time to notify his relatives, and they do not seem to take any interest in him."

It is the unexpected that always happens. That very evening Mrs.

Hetterman brought us this note from Miss Prillwitz. She wrote better than she spoke, for on paper there was no opportunity for the foreign accent to betray itself:

"MY DEAR YOUNG LADIES:

"The elder brother have arrived, and I fear you will have no more opportunity to see little Giacomo, for I think he will take him away very shortly to his father's house.

"You must not be too sorry, but think what a so great thing this is for poor little Giacomo, to be called so soon to his beautiful estate; no more poorness or trouble, in the palace of the King.

Giacomo desire me to thank you for all you kindness to him. He hope some time you will all come to him at his beautiful country of everlasting springtime, and the elder brother invite you also. Mrs.

Halsey is here. She is much troubled. She forget that Giacomo was not her very own, and the pain of parting from him is great. She can not rightly think of the good fortune it is to him. She wish to go with him, but that is not possible for now. Giacomo hope you will comfort her. He hope, too, we will continue our care to the children Hetterman. Come not to-night, dear young ladies, to bid him farewells; I fear you to cry, and so to trouble his happiness.

"Your at all times loving teacher,

"CeLESTINE PRILLWITZ."

"The idea of our crying, like so many babies!" said Emma Jane Anton; "why, it's the best thing that possibly could happen to him, and I, for one, shall congratulate him heartily."

"I suppose so," Milly a.s.sented, doubtfully, "but I shall miss him awfully, he is such a nice little fellow."

"So much the better," said Adelaide; "how glad the prince must be to find that his little brother is really presentable. As Winnie was saying, 'Fancy his feelings if he had found him a coa.r.s.e, common creature like Wilhelm, the butcher's boy!' And now, Winnie, what do you say to my being too sure about visiting him some day? Here is the invitation from the prince himself. I wonder just where in Italy they live!"

So the girls chatted all together, but Winnie was strangely silent.

"I ought to see Miss Prillwitz at once," she exclaimed, suddenly.

"It's too late, now," replied Emma Jane; "there! the retiring-bell is ringing, and if you look across the square you can see that Miss Prillwitz's lights are all out; besides, she particularly requested us not to come until morning."

"Then I must run over before breakfast," said Winnie, "for it is very important."

She set a little alarm-clock for an hour earlier than our usual waking-time; but she was unable to sleep, and her restlessness kept me awake also. She tossed from side to side, and moaned to herself, and at last I heard her say, "Oh! what wouldn't I give if some one would only show me the best way out of it."

"Winnie," I said, softly, "I am not asleep. What is the matter? Are you in trouble?"

"Yes, Tib."