"
"My name is Hildegardis Graham!" said Hilda in her most icy
manner,--what Madge Everton used to call her
Empress-of-Russia-in-the-ice-palace-with-the-mercury-sixty-degrees-below-zero
manner.
"Huldy Gardies!" repeated Farmer Hartley. "Well, that's a comical name
now! Sounds like Hurdy-gurdys, doosn't it? Where did Mis' Graham pick up
a name like that, I wonder? But I reckon Huldy'll do for me, 'thout the
Gardies, whatever they be."
"Come, father," said Dame Hartley, "the child's tired now, an' I guess
she wants to go upstairs. If you'll take the trunk, we'll follow ye."
The stalwart farmer swung the heavy trunk up on his shoulder as lightly
as if it were a small satchel, and led the way into the house and up the
steep, narrow staircase.
CHAPTER III.
THE PRISONER OF DESPAIR.
As she followed in angry silence, Hilda had a glimpse through a
half-open door of a cosey sitting-room; while another door, standing
fully open at the other end of the little hall, showed, by a blaze of
scarlet tiger-lilies and yellow marigolds, where the garden lay. And now
the farmer opened a door and set down the trunk with a heavy thump; and
Dame Hartley, taking the girl's hand, led her forward, saying: "Here, my
dear, here is your own little room,--the same that your dear mamma slept
in when she was here! And I hope you'll be happy in it, Hilda dear, and
get all the good we wish for you while you're here!" Hilda bowed
slightly, feeling unable to speak; and the good woman continued: "You
must be hungry as well as tired, travelling since morning.
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