"How beautiful they are!" she thought, holding up a bunch so
that the sunlight shone through it. "And these pale, pinky golden ones,
which show all the delicate veins inside. Really, I _must_ eat this fat
bunch; they are like fairy grapes! The butler fay comes and picks a
cluster every evening, and carries it on a lily-leaf platter to the
queen as she sits supping on honey-cakes and dew under the damask
rose-bush."
While fingers and fancy were thus busily employed, Hilda was startled by
the sound of a voice which seemed to come from beyond the
currant-bushes, very near her. She stood quite still and listened.
"A-g, ag," said the voice; "g-l-o-m, glom,--agglom; e-r er,--agglomer;
a-t-e, ate,--agglomerate." There was a pause, and then it began again:
"A-g, ag; g-l-o-m, glom," etc.
Hilda's curiosity was now thoroughly aroused; and laying down her
basket, she cautiously parted the leaves and peeped through. She hardly
knew what she expected to see. What she did see was a boy about ten
years old, in a flannel shirt and a pair of ragged breeches, busily
weeding a row of carrots; for this was the vegetable garden, which lay
behind the currant-bushes. On one side of the boy was a huge heap of
weeds; on the other lay a tattered book, at which he glanced from time
to time, though without leaving his work. "A-n, an," he was now saying;
"t-i, ti,--anti; c-i-p, cip,--anticip; a-t-e, ate,--anti_cip_ate. 'To
expect.' Well! that _is_ a good un.
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