Pink Chirk looked up with a wondering smile. "Why, Hildegarde," she
said, "you look like the British warrior queen you told me about
yesterday. I was just thinking what a comfort it is to live now, instead
of in those dreadful murdering times that the ballads tell of."
"I _druther_ ha' lived then!" cried Bubble, from behind the chair. "If I
hed, I'd ha' got hold o' that Inverey feller."
CHAPTER XI.
THE WARRIOR QUEEN.
Happily, happily, the days and weeks slipped by at Hartley Farm; and now
September was half gone, and in two weeks more Hilda's parents would
return. The letter had just arrived which fixed the date of their
homecoming and Hildegarde had carried it upstairs to feast on it in her
own room. She sat by the window in the little white rocking-chair, and
read the words over and over again. In two weeks--really in two little
weeks--she should see her mother again! It was too good to be true.
"Dragons, do you hear?" she cried, turning towards the wash-handstand.
"You have seen my mother, Dragons, and she has washed her little
blessed face in your bowl. I should think that might have stopped your
ramping, if anything could. Or have you been waving your paws for joy
ever since? I may have been unjust to you, Dragons."
The blue dragons, as usual, refused to commit themselves; and, as usual,
the gilt cherubs round the looking-glass were shocked at their rudeness,
and tried to atone for it by smiling as hard as they possibly could.
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