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Richards, Laura Elizabeth Howe, 1850-1943

"Queen Hildegarde"

"They're
gret fools, hens are,--greter than folks, as a rule; an' that is sayin'
a good deal."
They crossed the great sunny barn-yard, and paused at the barn-door,
while Hilda looked in with delight. A broad floor, big enough for a
ballroom, with towering walls of fragrant hay on either side reaching
up to the rafters; great doors open at the farther end, showing a snatch
of blue, radiant sky, and a lovely wood-road winding away into deep
thickets of birch and linden; dusty, golden, cobwebby sunbeams slanting
down through the little windows, and touching the tossed hay-piles into
gold; and in the middle, hanging by iron chains from the great central
beam, a swing, almost big enough for a giant,--such was the barn at
Hartley Farm; as pleasant a place, Hilda thought, as she had ever seen.
"Waal, Huldy, I'll leave ye heer," said the farmer; "ye kin find yer way
home, I reckon."
"Oh, yes, indeed!" said Hilda. "But stop one moment, please, Farmer
Hartley. I want to know--will you please--may I teach Bubble Chirk a
little?" The farmer gave a low whistle of surprise; but Hilda went on
eagerly: "I found him studying, this morning, while he was weeding the
garden,--oh! studying so hard, and yet not neglecting his work for a
minute. He seems a very bright boy, and it is a pity he should not have
a good education. Could you spare him, do you think, for an hour every
day?" She stopped, while the farmer looked at her with a merry twinkle
in his eye.


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