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Page 23
Now the arms were lifted, and the leader wove her mystic paces in
and out among the children, while the words changed.
"Go in and out the window,
Go in and out the window,
Go in and out the window,
The Highland Gates to die."
Euleta took Vesta Philbrook by the hand, led her into the circle,
and knelt solemnly before her; and the others sang, wildly,--
"Kneel down and face your lover,
Kneel down and face your lover,
Kneel down and face your lover,
The Highland Gates to die."
"What ARE, you playing?" cried Bell Merryweather, who had come in
quietly, and was watching the proceedings in amazement.
"Don't ask me!" Hildegarde replied, "watch and listen, and learn
if you can. Oh, this is tragedy, indeed!" For Euleta had thrown
herself backward, not without a certain dramatic force, and now
lay prone at Vesta's feet; and the children chanted, solemnly,--
"She's dead because she loved him,
She's dead because she loved him,
She's dead because she loved him,
The Highland Gates to die."
This ended the game, and the children smiled joyously, while
Euleta plumed herself like a little peacock, taking to herself the
credit of all the interest shown by the young ladies.
"But what an extraordinary thing!" cried Bell; "Hildegarde, have
you an idea what it can mean?"
Hildegarde shook her head. "It must be something old," she said.
"It must come from some old story or ballad. Oh, if we could only
find out!" They questioned the children eagerly, but could learn
nothing. It was merely, "The Highland Gates to Die," and they had
always played it, and everybody else always played it,--that was
all they knew.
At this moment a well-known brown bonnet was seen bobbing
apologetically up the drive; the Widow Lankton had been making
frantic efforts to catch Hildegarde's eye, and now succeeding,
began a series of crab-like bows.
"Oh!" cried Hildegarde, eagerly, "there is Mrs. Lankton, and she
will know all about it."
"Yes," chimed in the children, in every variety of shrill treble.
"Widder Lankton, SHE'LL know all about it, sure!"
Mrs. Lankton was surrounded in a moment, and brought up on the
piazza. Here she sat, turning her head from side to side, like a
lean and pensive parrot, and struggling to get her breath.
"It's ketched me!" she said, faintly, in reply to the girls'
questions. "Miss Grahame, my dear, it's ketched me in my right
side, and I like t' ha' died on your thrishold. Yes, my dear," she
nodded her head many times, and repeated with unction, "I like t'
ha' died on your thrishold."
"Oh, I am so sorry, Mrs. Lankton!" said Hildegarde, soothingly,
while she quieted with a look Bell's horrified anxiety.
"I think you will be able to go in and get a cup of tea presently,
won't you? And that will take away the pain, I hope."
Mrs. Lankton's countenance assumed a repressed cheerfulness. "You
may be right, dear!" she said. "I shouldn't go to contradict your
blessed mother's darter, not if she told me to get a hull supper,
let alone a cup o' tea, as is warming to the innards, let him deny
it who will. There! I feel it a leetle better now a'ready," she
announced. "Ah, it's a blessed privilege you have, Miss Grahame!"
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