Clematis Part 22

There he poured it into a red machine, with a big bowl. He turned the handle, and soon two streams came out.

"What is that for?" Clematis thought this might be some new magic.

Indeed it was magic, almost.

"This is the separator," answered Mr. Alder. "I pour the milk in at the top, and turn the handle. Then the cream comes out of one spout, and the skimmed milk from the other."

"Oh, I see," said Clematis, though it really was all like magic to her.

"Now I guess we are through. Let's go up and see what they have for supper."

Mr. Alder took the empty pail, and led her back to the house, where supper was ready and waiting.

The smell of hot biscuit made Clematis feel very hungry, and she was glad that supper was all ready.

With the biscuit, was golden b.u.t.ter, and apple sauce.

"Do you like warm milk right from the cow?" asked Mrs. Alder.

"Yes'm," replied Clematis, with a nod.

So Mrs. Alder put a little pitcher, with a gla.s.s, not much bigger than a thimble, beside her plate.

She could pour it out herself, as often as she emptied her gla.s.s.

"Better leave room for some fresh blueberry pie, and a piece of cheese," said Mr. Alder.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The little red hen]

Blueberry pie and cheese, hot biscuit and fresh milk, and golden b.u.t.ter, all she wanted; surely, Sally never had any supper better than this.

The shadows were falling, and the August crickets were beginning their evening concert, when Clematis had eaten the last bit of pie on her plate.

"The Sand Man is coming, I do believe," said Mr. Alder, as he reached over to pinch her cheek.

"Well, I don't wonder, the trip was a long one for a little girl.

You shall go right to bed, Clematis."

Mrs. Alder took a lamp as she spoke, and led the little visitor to the stairs.

"Good night, sleep tight, don't let the skeeters bite."

Mr. Alder called after her as she went up.

Clematis laughed. Her eyes were drooping, and her feet were heavy, as she climbed the stairs.

"There now, we'll have you tucked in before a cat can say Jack Sprat," said Mrs. Alder, as she unb.u.t.toned her boots.

"Haven't I got to fold my clothes?" asked Clematis, as Mrs. Alder began picking them up.

"Never mind about them tonight. Here's a wet cloth. We'll just have a quick wash, and into bed you go."

The bed was soft; the pillows were softer; and the song of the evening breeze in the maple, without her open window, was softer still.

"I am in the country," sighed Clematis. "I can hear the trees, and I can smell the flowers now. Tomorrow I will--"

I wish I could tell you what she was going to do. I can't, for just then, she fell fast asleep.

CHAPTER XV

CLEMATIS TRIES TO HELP

The birds in the maple tree woke Clematis early the next morning.

For a minute she did not know where she was. Then she hopped out of bed and ran to the window.

The sun was up. The birds were singing all about. The smell of clover and sweet gra.s.s came to her open window.

There, across the valley, lay the mountains she saw in the evening.

Now they were not blue. She could see the rocks and the bushes, in the morning light. But they were just as lovely as before.

"Oh," she thought, "some day I'll go and climb up those mountains."

Then she washed carefully at the stand by the window, for she remembered what Miss Rose had said.

When she was dressed, she started down stairs. Then she thought again.

"I must help all I can. I guess I'll make the bed."

So she drew the clothes neatly over the bed, and smoothed the pillow. Then she went down.

"Good morning, Clematis," said Mrs. Alder. "I see you get up before breakfast. Did you have a good sleep?"

"Yes'm," replied Clematis. "Would you like me to help you?"

"No, you had better run out and see what Mr. Alder is doing. You can help me after breakfast."

So Clematis ran out.

How loud the birds sounded in the clear air. How they chirped and twittered. How sweet the smell of the flowers, and how bright the sun.

"Oh, there's the little red hen!" she cried. "But she has lost her chickens. Every one is gone."

There was the little hen, sitting on the ground, near the barn door.