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Page 24
Without stopping to analyze these remarks too closely, Hildegarde
said a few more soothing words, and then went straight to the
matter in hand.
"Mrs. Lankton, can you tell us anything about a game the children
have been playing, the game of 'The Highland Gates?' We are very
much interested in it, Miss Merryweather and I,--this is Miss
Merryweather,--and we want to know what it means."
"To be sure, my dear!" cried the Widow Lankton. "'The Highland
Gates to Die.' Dear me, yes! if ever a person could tell you--and
Miss Bellflower, is it? Ah! she looks rugged, now; don't she? and
livin' in the old Shannon house, too. 'T is dretful onhealthy,
they say, the Shannon house; but havin' a rugged start, you see,
you may weather it a consid'able time, dearie, and be a comfort to
them as has you WHILE they has you. My Philena, her cheeks was
just like yours, like two pinies. And where is she now? Ah! I've
seen trouble, Miss Bellwether. Miss Grahame here can tell you of
some of the trouble I've seen, though she don't know not a quarter
part of it."
"Oh yes, Mrs. Lankton," said Hildegarde, with what seemed to
wondering Bell rather a scant measure of sympathy; "Miss
Merryweather shall hear all about it, surely. But will you tell us
now about the game, please? We want to know so very much!"
"To be sure, dearie! to be sure!" acquiesced Mrs. Lankton with
alacrity. "'T is a fine game, and anncient, as you may say. Why,
my grandmother taught me to play 'The Highland Gates' when I was
no bigger than you, Vesta Philbrook. Ah! many's the time I played
it with my sister Salome, and she died just about your age."
"Well, Mrs. Lankton," said Hildegarde, encouragingly.
"Well? oh, bless you! no, dearie! She was terrible sick! that was
why she died. Oh, my, yes! She had dyspepsy right along, suffered
everything with it, yet 'twas croup that got her at last. Ah!
there's never any child knows when croup 'll get her; girl NOR
boy!"
Hildegarde began to feel as if she must scream, or stamp her foot,
or do some other impossible thing.
"Mrs. Lankton," she said, gravely, "I am sure Auntie has the
kettle on, and you will be the better for your tea, so will you
not tell us as quickly as you can, please, about the game? The
children are waiting, you see, to go on with their play."
"Jest what I was going to say, dear," cried Mrs. Lankton. "Let 'em
play, I says, while they can, I says; for its soon enough they get
the play squenched out of 'em, if you'll excuse the expression,
Miss Henfeather."
At this apostrophe, delivered with mournful intensity, Bell
retreated hastily behind a post of the veranda, and even Susan
Aurora Bulger giggled faintly, with her apron in her mouth.
Hildegarde was silent, and tried the effect of gazing severely at
the widow, apparently with some success, for after a pause of
head-shaking, Mrs. Lankton continued:
"But as you was saying, dearie, about the game. Ye--es! Well, my
grandmother, she was an anncient woman; some said she was ninety-
seven, and more called it ninety-eight, but she didn't rightly
know herself, bein' she had lost the family Bible. Burned up with
the house it was, before she came from the Provinces, and some
said it was because of starting a new fire in the cook-stove on
Sunday; but I don't want to set in judgment, not on my own flesh
and blood, I do not, Miss Grahame. And I remember as if it was
this day of time, she settin' in her chair in the porch to our
house, smokin' her pipe, if you'll excuse me ladies, bein' an
anncient woman, and I HAVE heard great ladies took their pipes in
them times, but so it is. And she says to me, 'Drusilly,' she
says, 'Why don't you play with Salome?' and I says, ''Cause I
ain't got nothin' to play.' And she says, 'Come here,' she says,
'and I'll learn ye a game,' she says. So I called Salome, and we
two stood there, and Gram'ther she taught us 'The Highland Gates
to Die.' Salome, she had been feedin' the hens, and when she come
back she left the gate open, and they all got out and went and
strayed into the woods, and my father got so mad we thought we
should lose him, for sure. Purple he used to get when he was mad,
same as a late cabbage, and an awful sight. Yes, children, be
thankful if you're learned to keep your tempers. So that's all I
know, Miss Grahame, my dear, and you're welcome as air to it; and
I do believe I see Mis' Auntie lookin' out the kitching winder
this minute, so if you'll excuse me, ladies, bein' I feel a
goneness inside, and if I should faint away, how your blessed
mother would feel!"
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