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  CHAPTER XX

  THE UNFAMILIAR WAY

  In September David entered the village school. School and David did notassimilate at once. Very confidently the teacher set to work to gradeher new pupil; but she was not so confident when she found that whilein Latin he was perilously near herself (and in French--which she wasnot required to teach--disastrously beyond her!), in United Stateshistory he knew only the barest outlines of certain portions, and couldnot name a single battle in any of its wars. In most studies he was farbeyond boys of his own age, yet at every turn she encountered thesepuzzling spots of discrepancy, which rendered grading in the ordinaryway out of the question.

  David's methods of recitation, too, were peculiar, and somewhatdisconcerting. He also did not hesitate to speak aloud when he chose,nor to rise from his seat and move to any part of the room as the whimseized him. In time, of course, all this was changed; but it wasseveral days before the boy learned so to conduct himself that he didnot shatter to atoms the peace and propriety of the schoolroom.

  Outside of school David had little work to do now, though there werestill left a few light tasks about the house. Home life at the Hollyfarmhouse was the same for David, yet with a difference--the differencethat comes from being really wanted instead of being merely dutifullykept. There were other differences, too, subtle differences that didnot show, perhaps, but that still were there.

  Mr. and Mrs. Holly, more than ever now, were learning to look at theworld through David's eyes. One day--one wonderful day--they even wentto walk in the woods with the boy; and whenever before had Simeon Hollyleft his work for so frivolous a thing as a walk in the woods!

  It was not accomplished, however, without a struggle, as David couldhave told. The day was a Saturday, clear, crisp, and beautiful, with apromise of October in the air; and David fairly tingled to be free andaway. Mrs. Holly was baking--and the birds sang unheard outside herpantry window. Mr. Holly was digging potatoes--and the clouds sailedunnoticed above his head.

  All the morning David urged and begged. If for once, just this once,they would leave everything and come, they would not regret it, he wassure. But they shook their heads and said, "No, no, impossible!" In theafternoon the pies were done and the potatoes dug, and David urged andpleaded again. If once, only this once, they would go to walk with himin the woods, he would be so happy, so very happy! And to please theboy--they went.

  It was a curious walk. Ellen Holly trod softly, with timid feet. Shethrew hurried, frightened glances from side to side. It was plain thatEllen Holly did not know how to play. Simeon Holly stalked at herelbow, stern, silent, and preoccupied. It was plain that Simeon Hollynot only did not know how to play, but did not even care to find out.

  The boy tripped ahead and talked. He had the air of a monarchdisplaying his kingdom. On one side was a bit of moss worthy of theclosest attention; on another, a vine that carried allurement in everytendril. Here was a flower that was like a story for interest, andthere was a bush that bore a secret worth the telling. Even SimeonHolly glowed into a semblance of life when David had unerringly pickedout and called by name the spruce, and fir, and pine, and larch, andthen, in answer to Mrs. Holly's murmured: "But, David, where's thedifference? They look so much alike!" he had said:--

  "Oh, but they aren't, you know. Just see how much more pointed at thetop that fir is than that spruce back there; and the branches growstraight out, too, like arms, and they're all smooth and tapering atthe ends like a pussy-cat's tail. But the spruce back there--ITSbranches turned down and out--didn't you notice?--and they're all bushyat the ends like a squirrel's tail. Oh, they're lots different! That'sa larch 'way ahead--that one with the branches all scraggly and closedown to the ground. I could start to climb that easy; but I couldn'tthat pine over there. See, it's 'way up, up, before there's a place foryour foot! But I love pines. Up there on the mountains where I lived,the pines were so tall that it seemed as if God used them sometimes tohold up the sky."

  And Simeon Holly heard, and said nothing; and that he did saynothing--especially nothing in answer to David's confident assertionsconcerning celestial and terrestrial architecture--only goes to showhow well, indeed, the man was learning to look at the world throughDavid's eyes.

  Nor were these all of David's friends to whom Mr. and Mrs. Holly wereintroduced on that memorable walk. There were the birds, and thesquirrels, and, in fact, everything that had life. And each one hegreeted joyously by name, as he would greet a friend whose home andhabits he knew. Here was a wonderful woodpecker, there was a beautifulbluejay. Ahead, that brilliant bit of color that flashed across theirpath was a tanager. Once, far up in the sky, as they crossed an openspace, David spied a long black streak moving southward.

  "Oh, see!" he exclaimed. "The crows! See them?--'way up there? Wouldn'tit be fun if we could do that, and fly hundreds and hundreds of miles,maybe a thousand?"

  "Oh, David," remonstrated Mrs. Holly, unbelievingly.

  "But they do! These look as if they'd started on their winter journeySouth, too; but if they have, they're early. Most of them don't go tillOctober. They come back in March, you know. Though I've had them, onthe mountain, that stayed all the year with me."

  "My! but I love to watch them go," murmured David, his eyes followingthe rapidly disappearing blackline. "Lots of birds you can't see, youknow, when they start for the South. They fly at night--the woodpeckersand orioles and cuckoos, and lots of others. They're afraid, I guess,don't you? But I've seen them. I've watched them. They tell each otherwhen they're going to start."

  "Oh, David," remonstrated Mrs. Holly, again, her eyes reproving, butplainly enthralled.

  "But they do tell each other," claimed the boy, with sparkling eyes."They must! For, all of a sudden, some night, you'll hear the signal,and then they'll begin to gather from all directions. I've seen them.Then, suddenly, they're all up and off to the South--not in one bigflock, but broken up into little flocks, following one after another,with such a beautiful whir of wings. Oof--OOF--OOF!--and they're gone!And I don't see them again till next year. But you've seen theswallows, haven't you? They go in the daytime, and they're the easiestto tell of any of them. They fly so swift and straight. Haven't youseen the swallows go?"

  "Why, I--I don't know, David," murmured Mrs. Holly, with a helplessglance at her husband stalking on ahead. "I--I didn't know there weresuch things to--to know."

  There was more, much more, that David said before the walk came to anend. And though, when it did end, neither Simeon Holly nor his wifesaid a word of its having been a pleasure or a profit, there was yet ontheir faces something of the peace and rest and quietness that belongedto the woods they had left.

  It was a beautiful month--that September, and David made the most ofit. Out of school meant out of doors for him. He saw Mr. Jack and Jilloften. He spent much time, too, with the Lady of the Roses. She wasstill the Lady of the ROSES to David, though in the garden now were thepurple and scarlet and yellow of the asters, salvia, and golden glow,instead of the blush and perfume of the roses.

  David was very much at home at Sunnycrest. He was welcome, he knew, togo where he pleased. Even the servants were kind to him, as well as wasthe elderly cousin whom he seldom saw, but who, he knew, lived there ascompany for his Lady of the Roses.

  Perhaps best, next to the garden, David loved the tower room; possiblybecause Miss Holbrook herself so often suggested that they go there.And it was there that they were when he said, dreamily, one day:--

  "I like this place--up here so high, only sometimes it does make methink of that Princess, because it was in a tower like this that shewas, you know."

  "Fairy stories, David?" asked Miss Holbrook lightly.

  "No, not exactly, though there was a Princess in it. Mr. Jack told it."David's eyes were still out of the window.

  "Oh, Mr. Jack! And does Mr. Jack often tell you stories?"

  "No. He never told only this one--and maybe that's why I remember itso."

  "Well, and what did the Princess do?" Miss Holb
rook's voice was stilllight, still carelessly preoccupied. Her attention, plainly, was givento the sewing in her hand.

  "She didn't do and that's what was the trouble," sighed I David. "Shedidn't wave, you know."

  The needle in Miss Holbrook's fingers stopped short in mid-air, thethread half-drawn.

  "Didn't--wave!" she stammered. "What do you--mean?"

  "Nothing," laughed the boy, turning away from the window. "I forgotthat you didn't know the story."

  "But maybe I do--that is--what was the story?" asked Miss Holbrook,wetting her lips as if they had grown suddenly very dry.

  "Oh, do you? I wonder now! It wasn't 'The PRINCE and the Pauper,' butthe PRINCESS and the Pauper," cited David; "and they used to wavesignals, and answer with flags. Do you know the story?"

  There was no answer. Miss Holbrook was putting away her work,hurriedly, and with hands that shook. David noticed that she evenpricked herself in her anxiety to get the needle tucked away. Then shedrew him to a low stool at her side.

  "David, I want you to tell me that story, please," she said, "just asMr. Jack told it to you. Now, be careful and put it all in, becauseI--I want to hear it," she finished, with an odd little laugh thatseemed to bring two bright red spots to her cheeks.

  "Oh, do you want to hear it? Then I will tell it," cried Davidjoyfully. To David, almost as delightful as to hear a story was to tellone himself. "You see, first--" And he plunged headlong into theintroduction.

  David knew it well--that story: and there was, perhaps, little that heforgot. It might not have been always told in Mr. Jack's language; buthis meaning was there, and very intently Miss Holbrook listened whileDavid told of the boy and the girl, the wavings, and the flags thatwere blue, black, and red. She laughed once,--that was at the littlejoke with the bells that the girl played,--but she did not speak untilsometime later when David was telling of the first home-coming of thePrincess, and of the time when the boy on his tiny piazza watched andwatched in vain for a waving white signal from the tower.

  "Do you mean to say," interposed Miss Holbrook then, almost starting toher feet, "that that boy expected--" She stopped suddenly, and fellback in her chair. The two red spots on her cheeks had become a rosyglow now, all over her face.

  "Expected what?" asked David.

  "N--nothing. Go on. I was so--so interested," explained Miss Holbrookfaintly. "Go on."

  And David did go on; nor did the story lose by his telling. It gained,indeed, something, for now it had woven through it the very strongsympathy of a boy who loved the Pauper for his sorrow and hated thePrincess for causing that sorrow.

  "And so," he concluded mournfully, "you see it isn't a very nice story,after all, for it didn't end well a bit. They ought to have got marriedand lived happy ever after. But they didn't."

  Miss Holbrook drew in her breath a little uncertainly, and put her handto her throat. Her face now, instead of being red, was very white.

  "But, David," she faltered, after a moment, "perhapshe--the--Pauper--did not--not love the Princess any longer."

  "Mr. Jack said that he did."

  The white face went suddenly pink again.

  "Then, why didn't he go to her and--and--tell her?"

  David lifted his chin. With all his dignity he answered, and his wordsand accent were Mr. Jack's.

  "Paupers don't go to Princesses, and say 'I love you.'"

  "But perhaps if they did--that is--if--" Miss Holbrook bit her lips anddid not finish her sentence. She did not, indeed, say anything more fora long time. But she had not forgotten the story. David knew that,because later she began to question him carefully about many littlepoints--points that he was very sure he had already made quite plain.She talked about it, indeed, until he wondered if perhaps she weregoing to tell it to some one else sometime. He asked her if she were;but she only shook her head. And after that she did not question himany more. And a little later David went home.