to table, and Ellen was well feasted with the splitters, which were a kind of rich short-cake baked in irons, very thin and crisp, and then split in two and buttered, whence their name. A pleasant meal was that. Whatever an epicure might have thought of the tea, to Ellen, in her famished state, it was delicious; and no epicure could have found fault with the cold ham and the butter and the cakes; but far better than all was the spirit of kindness that was there. Ellen feasted on that more than on anything else. If her host and hostess were not very polished, they could not have been outdone in their kind care of her and kind attention to her wants. And when the supper was at length over, Mrs. Van Brunt declared a little colour had come back to the pale cheeks. The colour came back in good earnest a few minutes after, when a great tortoise-shell cat walked into the room. Ellen jumped down from her chair, and presently was bestowing the tenderest caresses upon pussy, who stretched out her head and purred as if she liked them very well.
"What a nice cat," said Ellen.
"She has five kittens," said Mrs. Van Brunt.
"Five kittens!" said Ellen. "Oh, may I come some time and see them?"
"You shall see 'em right away, dear, and come as often as you like too. Sally, just take a basket, and go fetch them kittens here."
Upon this Mr. Van Brunt began to talk about its being time to go, if they were going. But his mother insisted that Ellen should stay where she was; she said she was not fit to go home that night, that she oughtn't to walk a step, and that 'Brahm should go and tell Miss Fortune the child was safe and well, and would be with her early in the morning. Mr. Van Brunt shook his head two or three times, but finally agreed, to Ellen's great joy. When he came back she was sitting on the floor before the fire, with all the five kittens in her lap, and the old mother cat walking around and over her and them. But she looked up with a happier face than he had ever seen her wear, and told him she was "so much obliged to him for taking such a long walk for her;" and Mr. Van Brunt felt that, like his oxen, he could have done a great deal more with pleasure.
CHAPTER XIII
It's hardly in a body's pow'r
To keep at times frae being sour.
—Burns.
Before the sun was up the next morning, Mrs. Van Brunt came into Ellen's room and aroused her.
"It's a real shame to wake you up," she said, "when you were sleeping so finely; but 'Brahm wants to be off to his work, and won't stay for breakfast. Slept sound, did you?"
"Oh yes, indeed; as sound as a top," said Ellen, rubbing her eyes; "I am hardly awake yet."
"I declare it's too bad," said Mrs. Van Brunt, "but there's no help for it. You don't feel no headache, do you, nor pain in your bones?"
"No, ma'am, not a bit of it; I feel nicely."
"Ah! well," said Mrs. Van Brunt, "then your tumble into the brook didn't do you any mischief; I thought it wouldn't. Poor little soul!"
"I am very glad I did fall in," said Ellen, "for if I hadn't I shouldn't have come here, Mrs. Van Brunt."
The old lady instantly kissed her.
"Oh! mayn't I just take one look at the kitties?" said Ellen, when she was ready to go.
"Indeed you shall," said Mrs. Van Brunt, "if 'Brahm's hurry was ever so much; and it ain't besides. Come here, dear."
She took Ellen back to a waste lumber-room, where in a corner, on some old pieces of carpet, lay pussy and her family. How fondly Ellen's hand was passed over each little soft back! How hard it was for her to leave them!
"Wouldn't you like to take one home with you, dear?" said Mrs. Van Brunt at length.
"Oh! may I?" said Ellen, looking up in delight; "are you in earnest? Oh, thank you, dear Mrs. Van Brunt! Oh, I shall be so glad!"
"Well, choose one, then, dear; choose the one you like best, and 'Brahm shall carry it for you."
The choice was made, and Mrs. Van Brunt and Ellen returned to the kitchen, where Mr. Van Brunt had already been waiting some time. He shook his head when he saw what was in the basket his mother handed to him.
"That won't do," said he; "I can't do that, mother. I'll undertake to see Miss Ellen safe home, but the cat 'ud be more than I could manage. I think I'd hardly get off with a whole skin 'tween the one and t'other."
"Well, now!" said Mrs. Van Brunt.
Ellen gave a longing look at her black-and-white favourite, which was uneasily endeavouring to find out the height of the basket, and mewing at the same time with a most ungratified expression. However, though sadly disappointed, she submitted with a very good grace to what could not be helped. First setting down the little cat out of the basket it seemed to like so ill, and giving it one farewell pat and squeeze, she turned to the kind old lady who stood watching her, and throwing her arms around her neck, silently spoke her gratitude in a hearty hug and kiss.
"Good-bye, ma'am," said she; "I may come and see them some time again, and see you, mayn't I?"
"Indeed you shall, my darling," said the old woman, "just as often as you like;—just as often as you can get away. I'll make 'Brahm bring you home sometimes. 'Brahm, you'll bring her, won't you?"
"There's two words to that bargain, mother, I can tell you; but if I don't, I'll know the reason on't."
And away they went. Ellen drew two or three sighs at first, but she could not help brightening up soon. It was early—not sunrise; the cool freshness of the air was enough to give one new life and spirit; the sky was fair and bright; and Mr. Van Brunt marched along at a quick pace. Enlivened by the exercise, Ellen speedily forgot everything disagreeable; and her little head was filled with pleasant things. She watched where the silver light in the east foretold the sun's coming. She watched the silver changed to gold, till a rich yellow tint was flung over the whole landscape; and then broke the first rays of light upon the tops of the western hills—the sun was up. It was a new sight to Ellen.
"How beautiful! Oh, how beautiful!" she exclaimed.
"Yes," said Mr. Van Brunt, in his slow way, "it'll be a fine day for the field. I guess I'll go with the oxen over to that 'ere big meadow."
"Just look," said Ellen, "how the light comes creeping down the side of the mountain—now it has got to the wood—Oh, do look at the tops of the trees! Oh! I wish mamma was here."
Mr. Van Brunt didn't know what to say to this. He rather wished so too for her sake.
"There," said Ellen, "now the sunshine is on the fence, and the road, and everything. I wonder what is the reason that the sun shines first upon the top of the mountain, and then comes so slowly down the side; why don't it shine on the whole at once?"
Mr. Van Brunt shook his head in ignorance. "He guessed it always did so," he said.
"Yes," said Ellen, "I suppose it does, but that's the very thing—I want to know the reason why. And I noticed just now, it shone in my face before it touched my hands. Isn't it queer?"
"Humph!—there's
