Pink Chirk! what could a girl be like with such a name as that?
Hilda fancied her a stout, buxom maiden, with very red cheeks and very
black eyes--yes, certainly, the eyes must be black! Her hair--well, one
could not be so sure about her hair; but there was no doubt about her
wearing a pink dress and a blue checked apron. And she must be smiling,
bustling, and energetic. Yes! Hilda had the picture of her complete in
her mind. She wondered that this active, stirring girl never came up to
the farm; but of course she must have a great deal of work to do at
home.
By this time Hildegarde had reached the cottage; and after a moment's
hesitation she knocked softly at the green-painted door. No one came to
open the door, but presently she heard a clear, pleasant voice from
within saying, "Open the door and come in, please!" Following this
injunction, she entered the cottage and found herself directly in the
sitting-room, and face to face with its occupant. This was a girl of her
own age, or perhaps a year older, who sat in a wheeled chair by the
window. She was very fair, with almost flaxen hair, and frank, pleasant
blue eyes. She was very pale, very thin; the hands that lay on her lap
were almost transparent; but--she wore a pink calico dress and a blue
checked apron. Who could this be? and whoever it was, why did she sit
still when a visitor and a stranger came in? The pale girl made no
attempt to rise, but she met Hilda's look of surprise and inquiry with a
smile which broke like sunshine over her face, making it for the moment
positively beautiful.
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