Part 15 (2/2)
But after a long, long time he gave up hunting for me and flew angrily away.
”'And not any too soon, either, for the moon came out presently and shone so bright that he could have seen me down in the clump of gra.s.ses at once. I waited until I was quite sure that he was out of sight and would not come back, then I sprang up and flew home as fast as my poor weak wings would carry me. And you may be sure that I have kept out of the way of fireflies ever since.'
”Thistledown stopped talking, quite out of breath and tired with his long story.
”'It was a very interesting story,' said the little girl, 'and I thank you very much for telling it to me. And I'll remember, too, what the Queen of the Fireflies told you about not meddling,' she added thoughtfully.
”Then the little girl stood up, still holding Thistledown gently in her chubby hand.
”'I am going to do what you did to the firefly-only I hope it won't hurt you,' she said. 'Get behind you and say pouf-like that,' and puffing out her rosy cheeks, she sent Thistledown sailing merrily away through the warm, suns.h.i.+ny air.”
Letty ended her story with a little laugh.
”I feel as out of breath as Thistledown did, when he had finished his adventure,” she laughed.
”Ho!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Christopher, who had nearly burst in his effort to keep his promise not to interrupt. ”He couldn't have blown out the old firefly's lamp. They're not made that way. They're a part of the firefly-the light they make, I mean. The person who wrote that story did not know very much about beetles and things.”
The curtains parted in an up-stairs window and a smiling face looked down upon them.
”I know who wrote the story, Kit,” called Mrs. Hartwell-Jones. ”Can you guess?” she asked merrily.
Letty looked up with her face all aglow, enlightened by Mrs.
Hartwell-Jones's expression.
”Oh, Mrs. Hartwell-Jones,” she exclaimed, ”you don't mean to say that you wrote it!”
”Yes,” laughed the lady gayly. ”I wrote it ever so many years ago. How wonderfully you remembered it, my dear.”
”I loved it,” replied Letty simply. ”But I should never have believed it then if any one had told me that some day I should know the writer,” and she sighed happily.
”I'll write another one some time-just for you and Janey,” promised Mrs.
Hartwell-Jones. ”And now wouldn't you children like to drive Punch and Judy into the village to carry some of my things to Mr. Parsons' house?”
The twins jumped up with a whoop. They were always delighted to go for a drive in the pony carriage.
CHAPTER XI
CHRISTOPHER GOES FOR THE MAIL
When Mrs. Hartwell-Jones and Letty drove away from Sunnycrest in the pony carriage, amid a general waving of pocket handkerchiefs and shouts of farewell, everybody looked at everybody else rather blankly, as if something had happened and n.o.body was quite sure just what it was.
”Mrs. Hartwell-Jones said that we had done so much to brighten her life,” grandmother told grandfather, when they were talking it all over on the veranda that afternoon. ”But it seems to be the other way on. It is she who has done us all good. We shall all miss her and Letty, each for different reasons. I enjoyed my talks with Mrs. Hartwell-Jones and the children were perfectly happy with Letty.”
”We shall all of us miss Letty,” agreed grandfather.
”Yes, Jane is disconsolate and Huldah declares that her cake will never be so good again.”
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