oat!" she cried. "Good-by, dear beautiful river! I shall
see you to-morrow, the day after, every other day while I am here. I
have been happy, happy, happy with you. Good-by!" And with a final wave
of her hand, Hildegarde ran lightly up the path that led to the house.

CHAPTER VI.

A MORNING DRIVE.

Punctually at ten o'clock the next morning Dr. Abernethy stood before
the door, with a neat phaeton behind him; and the girls were summoned
from the piazza, where Rose was taking her French lesson.

"My dears," said Miss Wealthy, "are you ready? You said ten o'clock, and
the clock has already struck."

"Oh, yes, Cousin Wealthy!" cried Hildegarde, starting up, and dropping
one book on the floor and another on the chair. "We are coming
immediately. Rose, _nous allons faire une promenade en voiture! Repetez
cette phrase!_"

"_Nous allong_--" began Rose, meekly; but she was cut short in her
repetition.

"Not _allong_, dear, _allons_, _ons_. Keep your mouth open, and don't
let your tongue come near the roof of your mouth after the _ll_.
_Allons!_ Try once more."

"You need not wait, Jeremiah," said Miss Wealthy, in a voice that tried
not to be plaintive. "I dare say the young ladies will be ready in a
minute or two, and I will stand by the Doctor till they come."

Hildegarde heard, smote her breast, flew upstairs for their hats and a
shawl and pillow for Rose. In three minutes they were in the carriage,
but not till a kiss and a whispered apology from Hildegarde had driven
the slight cloud--not of vexation, but of wondering sadness; it seemed
such a strange thing, not to be ready and waiting when Dr. Abernethy
came to the door--from Miss Wealthy's kind face.

"Good-by, dear Cousin Wealthy!" and "Good-by, dear Miss Bond!" cried the
two happy girls; and off they drove in high spirits, while Miss Wealthy
went back to the piazza and picked up the French books, wiped them
carefully, and then went upstairs and put them in the little bookcase in
Hildegarde's room.

"She is a very dear girl," she said, shaking her head; "a little
heedless, but perhaps all girls are. Why, Mildred--oh! but Mildred was
an exception. I suppose," she added, "they call me an old maid. Very
likely. Not these girls,--for they are too well-mannered,--but people.
An old maid!" Miss Wealthy sighed a little, and put her hand up to the
pansy breastpin,--a favorite gesture of hers; and then she went into the
house, to make a new set of bags for t