CHAPTER 1 It was one of the prettiest places in all Kentucky where the Little Colonel stood that morning. She was reaching up on tiptoes, her eager little face pressed close against the iron bars of the great entrance gate that led to a final estate known as Locust. A ragged little scotch and sky terrier stood on its hind feet beside her, thrusting his inquisitive nose between the bars and wagging his tassled tail in lively approval of a scene before them. They were looking down a long avenue that stretched for nearly a quarter of a mile between rows of stately old locust trees. At the far end they could see the white pillars of a large stone house gleaming through the Virginia creeper that nearly covered it, but they could not see the old Colonel in his big chair on the porch behind the cool screen of vines. At that very moment he had caught the rattle of wheels along the road and had picked up his field glass to see who was passing.  The Colonel watched him drive up a lane that led to the back of the new hotel that had just been opened in this quiet country place. Then his glance fell on the two small strangers coming through his gate down the avenue towards him.  The other was a child he judged to be about five years old. Her shoes were covered with dust and her white sun bonnet had slipped off and was hanging over her shoulders.  Her soft light hair was cut as short as a boy's. There was something strangely familiar about the child, especially in the erect graceful way she walked. Old Colonel Lloyd was puzzled. He lived all his life in Lloydsboro and this was the first time he had ever failed to recognize one of the neighbor's children. He knew every dog and horse, too, by sight, if not by name. Living so far from the public road did not limit his knowledge of what was going on in the world. A powerful field-glass brought every passing object in plain view while he was saved on annoyance of noise and dust. I ought to know that child as well as I know my own name, he said to himself, but the dog is a stranger in these parts, liveliest thing I ever set eyes on. They must have come from the hotel. They are what they want. He carefully wiped the lens for a better view. When he looked again, he saw that they evidently had not come to visit him. They had stopped halfway down the avenue and climbed up on a rustic seat to rest. The dog sat motionless about two minutes, his red tongue hanging out as if he were completely exhausted. Suddenly he gave a spring and bounded away through the tall blue grass. He was back again in a moment with a stick in his mouth. Growing up with his four paws in the lap of his little mistress, he looked so wistfully into her face that she could not refuse his invitation for a romp. The Colonel chuckled as they went tumbling about in the grass to find the stick which the child repeatedly tossed away. He hitched his chair along to the other end of the porch as they kept getting farther away from the avenue. It had been many a long year since those old locust trees had seen a site like that. They were never played any more under their dignified shadows. Time had been, but they only whispered this among themselves on rare spring days like this when the little feet chased each other up and down the long walk as much at home as the peewees in the beaches.  Fritz, she exclaimed in delight, I melt strawberries. The Colonel, who could not hear the remark, wondered at the abrupt pause in the game. He understood it, however, when he saw them wading through the tall grass straight to his strawberry bed. It was the pride of his heart and the finest for miles around. The first berries of the season had been picked only the day before. Those that now hung temptingly red on the vines he intended to send to his next neighbor to prove his best acclaim of always raising the finest and earliest fruit. He did not propose to have his plans spoiled by these stray guests. Laying the field glass in its accustomed place on the little table beside his chair, he picked up his hat and stirred down the walk. Colonel Lloyd's friends all said he looked like Napoleon, or rather like Napoleon might have looked had he been born in bread of Kentucky. He made an imposing figure in his suit of white duck. The Colonel always wore white from May to October. There was the military precision about him, from his erect carriage to the cut of the little white goatee on his determined chin. No one looking into the firm lines of his resolute face could imagine him ever abandoning a purpose or being turned aside when he once formed an opinion. Most children were afraid of him. The darkies about the place shook in their shoes when he frowned. They had learned from experience that old Maurice Lloyd had a tiger of a temper in him. As he passed down the walk there were two mute witnesses to his old soldier life. A spur gleamed on his boot heel, for he had just returned from his morning ride, and his right sleeve hung empty. He had won his title bravely. He had given his only son and his strong right arm to the southern cause. That had been nearly thirty years ago. He did not charge down on the enemy with his usual force this time. The little head gleaming like sunshine in the strawberry patch reminded him so strongly of a little fellow who used to follow him everywhere. Tom, the sturdiest, handsomest boy in the county, Tom, whom he had been so proud of, whom he had so nearly worshipped. Looking at this fair head bent over the vines, he could almost forget that Tom had ever outgrown his babyhood, that he had shouldered the rifle and followed him to camp a mere boy to be shot down by a Yankee bullet in his first battle. The old colonel could almost believe he had him back again, and that he stood in the midst of those old days the locusts sometimes whispered about. He could not hear the happiest of little voices that was just then saying, Oh Fritz, isn't you glad we came? And isn't you glad we've got a grandfather with such good strawberries? It was hard for her to put the S before her consonants. As the colonel came nearer, she tossed another berry into the dog's mouth. A twig snapped, and she raised a startled face towards him. So, she said timidly, for it seemed to her that the stern, piercing eyes had spoken. What are you doing here, child? He asked, and a voice so much kinder than his eyes, that she regained her usual self-possession at once. Eaton, strawberries, she answered coolly. Who are you, anyway? He exclaimed, much puzzled. As he asked the question, his gaze happened to rest on the dog who was peering at him through the ragged, elfish wisps of hair, nearly covering its face, with eyes that were startlingly human. Peek when you all spoke boog into Fritz, she said severely, at the same time popping another luscious berry into her mouth. Fritz obediently gave a long yelp. The colonel smiled grimly. What's your name? He asked, this time looking directly at her. Mother calls me her baby, was the soft-spoken reply.  What under the sun, do they call you that for? He roared.  Like me, fairly gasped the colonel, how are you like me? Oh, I've got such a vile temper, and I stamp my foot when I get smad, and get all red in the face. And I hollows it, folks, and looks just this way. She drew her face down and puckered her lips into such a solemn pout that it looked as if a thunderstorm had passed over it. The next instant, she'd smiled up at him serenely. The colonel laughed. What makes you think I am like that, he said. You never saw me before. Yes, I have, too, she persisted. You was hanging in a gold frame over Oomantle. Just in a clear high voice was her calling out on the road. The child started up an alarm. Oh dear, she exclaimed in dismay at side of the stains on her white dress where she had been kneeling on the fruit. That's mom back. Now I'll be tied up and maybe put to bed for her running away again. But the berries is mighty nice, she added politely. Good morning, sir. Drits, we must be gone now. The voice was coming nearer. I'll walk down to the gate with you, said the colonel, anxious to learn something more about his little guest. Oh, you better not, sir, she cried an alarm. Mom back doesn't like you a bit.   I heard her tell Aunt Nervy so. There was as much real distress in the child's voice as if she were telling him of a promised vlogging. Lloyd, Lloyd! The call came again. A neat looking colored woman glanced in at the gate as she was passing by and then stood still in amazement. She had often found her little charge playing along the roadside or hiding behind trees, but she had never before known her to pass through anyone's gate. As the name came floating down to him through the clear air, a change came over the colonel's stern face. He stooped over the child. His hand trembled as he put it under her soft chin and raised her eyes to his. Lloyd, Lloyd, he repeated in a puzzled way. Can it be possible? There certainly is a wonderful resemblance. You have my little Tom's hair, and only my baby Elizabeth ever has such hazel eyes. He caught her up in his one arm and stirred onto the gate where the colored woman stood. Why, Becky, is that you? He cried, recognizing an old trusted servant who had lived at Locust in his wife's lifetime. Her only answer was a solemn nod. Whose child is this? He asked eagerly without seeming to notice her defiant looks. Tell me if you can. How can I tell you so? She demanded indignantly when you have forbidden even her name to be spoken before you. A harsh look came into the colonel's eyes. He put the child hastily down and pressed his lips together.  Then she waved her hand with an engaging smile. Goodbye, sir, she said graciously. We've had a mighty nice time.  When the last father of her dress had disappeared around the bend of the road, he walked slowly back towards the house. Halfway down the Long Avenue where she had stopped to rest, he sat down on the same rustic seat. He could feel her soft little fingers resting on his neck, where they had lain when he carried her through the gate. A very un-Napolean-like mist blurted his sight for a moment. It had been so long since such a touch had thrilled him, so long since any caresses had been given him.   He was glad, for a moment, that they called her that, glad that his only grandchild looked enough like himself for others to see the resemblance. But the feeling passed, as he remembered, that his daughter had married against his wishes, and he had closed his doors for ever against her. The old bitterness came back redoubled in its force. The next instant he was stamping down the avenue, roaring for Walker, his body-servant in such a tone that the cook's advice was speedily taken. Better hump yourself out in this here kitchen before the old target gets to dash and run in a pewter. End of chapter one, recording by Maria Therese. Chapter two of The Little Colonel. This liver-box recording is in the public domain. Recording by Maria Therese. The Little Colonel by Annie Fellows Johnston. Chapter two. Mom Beck carried the ironing board out of the hot kitchen, set the irons off the stove, and then tiptoed out to the side porch of the little cottage. Is your head feeling any better, honey? She said to the pretty girlish-looking woman lying in the hammock. I promised to step up to the hotel this evening to see one of the chambermaids. I thought I'd take the Little Colonel along with me if he was willing. She's always wild to play with Mrs. Wifeward's children up there. Yes, I'm better, Beckie, was a languid reply. Put a clean dress on Lloyd if you were going to take her out. Mrs. Sherman closed her eyes again, thinking gratefully.  First is my nurse, and now is Lloyd's. She is worth her weight in gold. The afternoon shadows were stretching long across the grass when Mom Beck led the child up the green slope in front of the hotel. The Little Colonel had danced along so gaily with frits that her cheeks glowed like wild roses.  Several ladies who were sitting on the shady piazza, busy with their embroidery, noticed her admiringly. It's Elizabeth Lloyd's little daughter, one of them explained. Don't you remember what a scene there was some years ago when she married a New York man? Sherman, I believe, his name was Jack Sherman. He was a splendid fellow and enormously wealthy. Nobody could say a word against him except that he was a northerner. That was enough for the old Colonel, though. He hates Yankees like poison. He stormed and swore and forbade Elizabeth ever coming in his side again. He had a room locked up and not a soul on the place ever dares mention her name in his hearing. The Little Colonel sat down demurely on the piazza steps to wait for the children. The nurse had not finished dressing them for the evening. She amused herself by showing Fritz the pictures in an illustrated weekly. It was not long until she began to feel that the ladies were talking about her. She had lived among older people so entirely that her thoughts were much deeper than her baby's speeches would be one to suppose. She understood demurely from what she had heard the servants say. There was some trouble between her mother and grandfather. Now she heard it rehearsed from beginning to end. She could not understand what they meant by bank failures and unfortunate investments.  Instead of the household servants they used to have, there was only faithful mom back to do everything. There was something magnetic in the child's eyes. Mrs. Wyford shrugged her shoulders uneasily as she caught their piercing gaze fixed on her. I do believe that little witch understands every word I said, she exclaimed. Oh, certainly not was the reassuring answer. She's such a little thing. But she had heard it all and understood enough to make her vaguely unhappy. Going home she did not frisk along with Fritz but walked soberly by mom back side holding tightly to the friendly black hand. We'll go through the woods, said mom back, lifting her over the fence. It's not so long that way. As they followed the narrow, straggling path into the cold dusk of the woods, she began to sing. The crooning chant was as mournful as a funeral dirge. The clouds hang heavy and it's going the way for well my dying friends. I'm going to lie in the silent tomb for well my dying friends. The muffled little sob made her stop and look down in surprise. Why, what's the matter, honey? She exclaimed. Did Emma Louise make you mad? Or is you crying because you are so tired? Come, O Becky, you'll toad her baby the rest of the way.  It's a world of trouble we're traveling through. Farewell, my dying friends. Oh, don't, Mom Beck, sobbed the child throwing her arms around the woman's neck and crying as though her heart would break. Land sakes, what is the matter? She asked an alarm. She sat down on a mossy log, took off the white hat, and looked into the flushed, tearful face. Oh, it makes me so lonesome when you sing that way with the little Colonel. I just can't stand it. Mom Beck, is my mother's heart all broken? Is that why she is sick so much? And will it kill her sure enough? Who's been telling you such nonsense? asked the woman sharply. Some ladies at the hotel were talking about it. They said that grandfather didn't love her anymore and it was just a kill in her. Mom Beck frowned fiercely. The child's grief was so deep and intense that she did not know just how to quiet her. Then she said decidedly, well, if that's all that's a trouble on you, you can just get down and walk home on your own legs.  She's all worn out, too, with the work of moving, when she's never been used to doing anything. But her heart isn't broke anymore than my neck is. The positive words and the decided toss Mom Beck gave her head and settled the matter for the little colonel. She wiped her eyes and stood up much relieved. Don't you never go to learn about what you hear to continue the woman.  Why doesn't grandfather love my mother? Ask the child as they came inside of the cottage. She puzzled over the naughty problem all the way home. How can papa's not love their little girls? Cosy stubborn was the unsatisfactory answer. All the loyalties, your mama's stubborn and you's stubborn. I'm not, shrieked the little colonel, stamping her foot. You shan't call me names. Then she saw a familiar white hand waving to her from the hammock, and she broke away from Mom Beck with very red cheeks and very bright eyes. Cuddled close in her mother's arms, she had a queer feeling that she had grown a great deal older in that short afternoon. Maybe she had.  Yo, great Aunt Sally Tyler is coming this morning, said Mom Beck the day after their visit to the hotel. Do for goodness sake, keep yourself clean. I's got too many spring chickens to dress to think about dressing you up again. Did I ever see her before? Questioned the little colonel. Why yes, the day we moved here. Don't you know she came and stayed so long, and the rocker broke off the little white rockin' chair when she sat down in it? Oh, now I know, laughed the child.  I don't like her, Mom Beck.  Mom Beck, I defy to be a little lady. There was no answer to her last remark. Mom Beck had stepped into the pantry for more eggs for the cake she was making. Fritz, said the little colonel, you're a great Aunt Saletala's comin' this mornin', and if you don't want to say howdy to her, you'll have to come with me. A few minutes later, a resolute little figure squeezed between the palings of the garden fence down by the gooseberry bushes.  Mom Beck, busy with her extra baking, supposed she was with her mother on the shady vine-covered porch. She would not have been singin' quite so gaily if she could have seen a half-mile up the road. The little colonel was sitting in the weeds by the railroad track, deliberately takin' off her shoes and stockings.  Mom Beck says I ought to know better, but it does feel so good. Good-telling how long she might have sat there enjoying the forbidden pleasure of jagging her rosy toes through the warm dust, if she had not heard a horse's hoofbeats coming rapidly along. Fritz, it's grand-vada, she whispered, in alarm, recognizing the erect figure of the rider in its spotless suit of white duck. Shhh! Lie down in the weeds! Quick! Lie down, I say! They both made themselves as flat as possible, and lay their panting with the exertion of keeping still. Suddenly the little colonel raised her head cautiously. Oh! He's gone down that lane, she exclaimed. Now you can get up. After a moment's deliberation, she asked. Fritz, would you rather have some strawberries and be tied up for runnin' away, or not be tied up and not have any of those nice daisin' strawberries? End of Chapter 2, recording by Maria Therese. Chapter 3 of the little colonel. This livervox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Maria Therese. The Little Colonel by Annie Fellows Johnston. Chapter 3. Two hours later, Colonel Lloyd, riding down the avenue under the locust, was surprised by a novel sight on his stately front steps. Three little darkies in a big, floppy-ered hound were crouched on the bottom step, looking up at the little colonel, who sat just above them. She was industriously stirring something in an old rusty pan with a big battered spoon. Now, me lily, she ordered, speaking to the largest and blackest of the group, you run and find some nice, smooth pebbles to put in for raisins.  This is most too wet. Here you little pickin'inis roared the colonel as he recognized the cook's children. What did I tell you about playing around here, tracking dirt all over my premises? You just chased back to the cabin where you belong. The sudden call started Lloyd so that she dropped the pan, and the great mud pie turned upside down on the white steps.  He had been in a bad humor all morning. The sight of the steps covered with sand and muddy tracks gave him an excuse to give vent to his cross-feelings. It was one of his theories that a little girl should always be kept as fresh and dainty as a flower. He'd never seen his own little daughter in such a plate as this, and she had never been allowed to step outside of her own room without her shoes and stockings.  And what are you playing with low-flung niggers for? Haven't you ever been taught any better? I suppose it's some of your father's miserable yanky notions. May the elite peeping around the corner of the house rolled her frightened eyes from one angry face to the other.  The same kind of scowl drew their eyebrows together darkly.  Suddenly she stooped and snatching both hands full of mud from the overturned pie, slung it wisely on the spotless white coat. Colonel Lloyd gasped with astonishment. It was the first time in his life he had ever been openly defied. The next moment his anger gave way to amusement. By George, he chuckled admiringly, the little thing has got spirit, sure enough. She's a Lloyd through and through. So that's why they call her the little colonel, is it? They're their child, he said soothingly. I didn't mean to make you mad when you were good enough to come and see me. It isn't often I have a little lady like you to pay me a visit. I didn't come to see you, sir, she answered indignantly as she started towards the gate. I came to see May Lily. But I never would have come inside your gate if I'd known you was going to holla at me and be so cross. She was walking off with the air of an offended queen, when the colonel remembered that if he allowed her to go away in that mood, she would probably never set foot on his grounds again. Her display of temper had interested him immensely. Now that he had laughed off his ill-humour, he was anxious to see what other traits of character she possessed. He reeled his horse across the walk to bar her way and quickly dismounted. Oh, now, wait a minute, he said in the coaxing tone.  Walker's picking some now, and you haven't seen my hot house.  You like roses, don't you, and pinks, and lilies and pansies? He saw he had struck the right chord as soon as he mentioned the flowers. The swollen look vanished as if by magic. Her face changed as suddenly as an April day. Oh, yes, she cried with a beaming smile. I loved him better than anything. He tied his horse and led the way to the conservatory. He opened the door for her to pass through, and then watched her closely to see what impression it would make on her. She had expected a delighted exclamation of surprise, for he had good reason to be proud of his rare plants. They were arranged with a true artist's eye for color and effect.  Then she began going slowly from flower to flower, laying her face against the cool, velvety purple of the pansies, touching the rosewoods with her lips, and tilting the white lily cups to look into their golden depths. As she passed from one to another, as lightly as a butterfly might have done, she began chanting in a happy undertone. Ever since she had learned to talk, she had a quaint little way of singing to herself. All the names that pleased her fancy, she strung together in a crooning melody of her own. There was no special tune. It sounded happy, although nearly always in a minor key. Oh, the jangles and the lilies, she sang, all white and golden yellow. Oh, they're all a-smiling at me and a-saying howdy-howdy. She was so absorbed in her intense enjoyment that she forgot all about the old Colonel. She was wholly unconscious that he was watching or listening. She really does love them, he thought complacently, to see her face when would think she had found a fortune. It was another bond between them. After a while he took a small basket from the wall and began to fill it with his choices blooms. You shall have these to take home, he said. Now come into the house and get your strawberries. She followed him reluctantly, turning back several times from one more long sniff of the delicious fragrance. She was not at all like the Colonel's ideal of what a little girl should be, as she sat in one of the highest stiff chairs enjoying her strawberries. Her dusty little toes wriggled around in the curls on Fritz's back, as she used him for a footstool. Her dress was draggled and dirty, and she kept leaning over to give the dog berries and cream from the spoon she was eating with herself. He forgot all this, however, when she began to talk to him. My great Aunt Sally Tyler is to all house this morn, and she announced confidentially. That's why we came off. Do you know my Aunt Sally Tyler? Well, slightly, chuckled the Colonel. She was my wife's half-sister. So you don't like her, eh? Well, I don't like her either. She threw back his hat and laughed heartily. The more the child talked, the more entertaining he found her. He did not remember when he had ever been so amused before as he was by this tiny counterpart of himself. When the last berry had vanished, she slipped down from the tall chair. Do you both? It's very late, she asked in an anxious voice. Mom, back will be coming for me soon. Yes, it is nearly noon, he answered. It didn't do much good to run away from your Aunt Tyler. We'll see you after all.  I most wish I was there now. She sighed, it's so far, and the sun's so hot, I lost my son Bonnet when I was coming here, too. Something in the tired, dirty face prompted the old Colonel to say, Well, my horse hasn't been put away yet. I'll take you home on Maggie Boy. The next moment he repented making such an offer, thinking what the neighbors might say if they should meet him on the road with Elizabeth's child in his arm. But it was too late. He could not unclasp the trusting little hand that was slipped in his. He could not cloud the happiness of the eager little face by retracting his promise. He swung himself into the saddle with her in front. Then he put his one arm around her with a firm clasp as he reached forward to take the bridle. You couldn't take fits on behind, could you? She asked anxiously, He's mighty tired, too. No, said the Colonel with a laugh, Maggie Boy might object and throw us all off.  Look! whispered all the locus, waving their hands to each other excitedly. Look! The master has his own again. The dear old times are coming back to us. How the trees blow, exclaimed the child looking up at the green arch overhead. See! They is all a nod into each other. We'll have to get my shoes and tokens, she said presently, when they were nearly home. They're in that fence calling a behind the log. The Colonel obediently got down and handed them to her. As he mounted again, he saw a carriage coming toward them. He recognized one of his nearest neighbors. Striking the astonished Maggie Boy with his spur, he turned her across the railroad track down this steep embankment and into an unfrequented lane. This road is just back of your garden, he said. Can you get through the fence if I take you there? That's the way we came out, was the answer. See that hole where the pailings are off? Just as he was about to lift her down, she put one arm around his neck and kissed him softly on the cheek. Goodbye, Grandfather, she said in her most winning way. I've had a mighty nice time. Then she added, in a lower tone, Cousmi fortho and mud on your coat. He held her close a moment, thinking nothing had ever been half so sweet as the way she called him Grandfather. From that moment, his heart went out to her as it had to Little Tom and Elizabeth. It made no difference if her mother had forfeited his love. It made no difference if Jack Sherman was her father and that the two men hardly hated each other. It was his own little grandchild he held in his arms. She had sailed the relationship with a trusting kiss. Child, he said huskily, you will come and see me again, won't you, no matter if they do tell you not to. You shall have all the flowers and berries you want, and you can ride Maggie boys often as you please. She looked up into his face. It was very familiar to her. She had looked at his portrait often, unconsciously recognizing a kindred spirit that she longed to know. Her ideas of grandfathers, gained from stories and observation, led her to class them with fairy godmothers. She had always wished for one. The day they moved to Lloydsboro, Locust had been pointed out to her as her grandfather's home. From that time on, she slipped away with Fritt on every possible occasion to peer through the gate, hoping for a glimpse of him. Yes, I'll come, sir, she promised.  He watched her scramble through the hole in the fence.  A scrap of white lying on the grass attracted his attention as he neared the gate. It's the lost son bonnet, he said with a smile. He carried it into the house and hung it on the hat rack in the wide front hall. Old Mars' cross-hored and two-sticks-groud walker to the cook at dinner. There ain't no livin' with him. What do you suppose is the matter? End of Chapter 3. Recording by Maria Therese. Mombeck was busy putting lunch on the table when the little colonel looked in at the kitchen door, so she did not see a little tramp carrying her shoes in one hand and a basket in the other who paused their moment. But when she took up the pan of beaten biscuits, she was puzzled to find that several were missing. It beats my time, she said aloud. The parrot couldn't have reached them, and Lloyd and the dog had been in the palla all morning. Something has just notchedly done spirited him away.  Aunt Sally Tyler gave a little shriek and stopped rocking. Why, Lloyd Sherman gasped for mother in dismay. Where have you been? I thought you were with Becky all the time. I was sure I heard you singing out there a little while ago. I've been to see my grandfather, said the child, speaking very fast. I made mud pies on his front steps, and we both of us got mad, and I throwed mud on him, and he gave me some strawberries and all these flowers, and brought me home on Maggie boy. She stopped out of breath. Mrs. Tyler and her niece exchanged astonished glances.  He didn't care, replied Lloyd calmly. He made me promise to come again, no matter if you all did tell me not to. Just then, Becky announced that lunch was ready, and carried the child away to make her presentable. To Lloyd's great surprise, she was not put into bed, but was about to go to table as soon as she dressed. It was not long until she had told every detail of the morning's experience. While she was taking her afternoon nap, the two ladies sat out on the porch, gravely discussing all she had told them. It doesn't seem right for me to allow her to go there, said Mrs. Sherman, after the way Papa has treated us. I can never forgive him for all the terrible things he has said about Jack, and I know Jack can never be friends with him on account of what he has said about me. He has been so harsh and unjust that I don't want my little Lloyd to have anything to do with him. I wouldn't for world have him think that I encouraged you're going there. Well, yes, I know, answered her aunt slowly, but there are some things to consider besides your pride, Elizabeth. There's a child herself, you know. Now that Jack has lost so much, and your prospects are so uncertain, you ought to think of her interests. It would be a pity for Locust to go to strangers when it has been in your family for so many generations. That's what it certainly will do unless something turns up to interfere. Old Judge Woodard told me himself that your father had made a will leaving everything he owns to some medical institution. Imagine Locust being turned into a sanitarium or a training school for nurses. Dear old place, said Mrs. Sherman, with tears in her eyes. No one ever had a happier childhood than the eye passed on her these old Locusts. Every tree seems like a friend. I would be glad for Lloyd to enjoy the place as I did. I'd let her go as much as she pleases Elizabeth. She's so much like the old Colonel that they ought to understand each other and get along capital-tally. Who knows, it might end a new all-making-up someday. Mrs. Sherman raised her head hodlily. No, indeed, Aunt Sally. I can forgive and forget much, but you are greatly mistaken if you think I can go to such lengths as that. He closed his doors against me with a curse, for no reason on earth but that the man I loved was more north of the Mason and Dixon line. There never was a nobler man living than Jack, and Papa would have seen it if he hadn't deliberately shut his eyes and refused to look at him. He was just prejudiced and stubborn. Aunt Sally said nothing, but her thoughts took the shape of Mombeck's declaration. The Lloyds is all stubborn. I wouldn't go through with gate now if he got down on his knees and begged me, continued Elizabeth hotly. It's too bad, exclaimed her aunt. He was always so perfectly devoted to little daughter, as used to call you. I don't like him myself. We never could get along together at all, because he is so high-strung and ever-bearing, but I know it would have made your poor mother mighty unhappy if she could have foreseen all this.  Presently, Lloyd came out all fresh and rosy from her long nap and went to play in the shade of the great beach trees that guarded the college. I never saw a child with such influence of her animals, said her mother, as Lloyd came around the house with the parrot perched on the broom she was carrying. She'll walk right up to any strange dog and make friends with it no matter how savage looking it is. And there's Polly, so old and cross that she screams and scolds dreadfully if any of us go near her. But Lloyd dresses her up in doll's clothes, puts paper bonnets on her, and makes her just as uncomfortable as she pleases. Look, that is one of her favorite amusements. The little colonel squeezed the parrot into a tiny dog carriage and began to trundle it back and forth as fast as she could run. Ha, ha, screamed the bird. Polly is a lady. Oh, lordy, I'm so happy. She caught that from the washerwoman, laughed, Mr. Sherman. I should think the poor thing would be dizzy from whirling around so fast. Quit that, chillin'.  She clucked angrily, but never once attempted to snap at the dimpled fingers that squeezed her tight. Suddenly, as if her patience was completely exhausted, she uttered a disdainful, oh, pshaw, and flew up into an old cedar tree. Mother, Polly won't play with me any more, shrieked the child, flying into a rage. She stamped and scoured and grew red in the face. Then she began beating the trunk of the tree with the old broom she had been carrying. Did you ever see anything so much like the old colonel, as Mrs. Tyler in astonishment? I wonder if she acted that way this morning. I don't doubt it at all, answered Mr. Sherman. She'll be over it in just a moment. These little spells never last long. Mrs. Sherman was right. In a few moments, Lloyd came up the walk singing. I wish you'd tell me a pink story, she said coaxingly, as she leaned against her mother's knee. Not now, dear. Don't you see that I am busy talking to Aunt Sally? Run and ask mom back for one. What on earth does she mean by a pink story? asked Mrs. Tyler. Oh, she is so fond of colors. She is always asking for a pink or a blue or a white story. She wants everything in the story tinged with whatever color she chooses, dresses, parasols, flowers, sky, evenly icing on the cakes and the paper on the walls. What an odd little thing she is, exclaimed Mrs. Tyler. Isn't she loss of company for you? She need not have asked that question if she could have seen them that evening, sitting together in the early twilight.  There was an occasional rattle of wheels along the road, a Twitter of sleepy birds, a distant croak of frogs. Mom back's voice loaded in from the kitchen where she was stepping briskly around. Oh, the clouds hang heavy and it's going to rain, so while my dying friends, she sang. Lloyd put her arms closer around her mother's neck. Let's talk about Papa Jack, she said. What you pose he's doing now, way out west. Elizabeth, feeling like a tired, homesick child herself, held her closed and was comforted as she listened to the sweet little voice talking about the absent father. The moon came up after a while and streamed in through the vines of the porch.  Wonder if she'll run away tomorrow, whispered mom back as she came out to carry her in the house. Who'd ever think now, looking at her pretty innocent face, that she could be so naughty, bless her little soul? The kind old black face was lay lovingly a moment against the fair, soft cheek of a little Colonel. Then she lifted her in her strong arms and carried her gently away to bed. Chapter 5 Summer lingers long among the Kentucky hills. Each passing day seemed fairer than a last to the little Colonel, who had never before known anything of country life. She was climbed up and almost hid the small white cottage. Red birds sang in the woodbind. Squirrels chattered in the beaches. She was out of doors all day long. Sometimes she spent hours watching the ants carry away the sugar she sprinkled for them. Sometimes she caught flies for an old spider, the head is then under the porch steps. He is an ogre, ogre, she explained to Fritz. He's bewitched me, so I have to kill whole families of flies for him to eat. She was always busy and always happy. Before June was half over, it got to be a common occurrence for a walker to ride up to the gate on the Colonel's horse. The excuse was always to have a passing room with mom back. But before he rode away, the little Colonel was generally mounted in front of him. It was not long before she felt almost as much at home at Locust as she did at the cottage. The neighbors began to comment on it after a while. He will surely make up with Elizabeth at this rate, they said. But at the end of the summer, the father and daughter had not even had a passing glimpse of each other.  Papa Jack's coming home tomorrow. The Colonel paid no attention. I say, she repeated, Papa Jack's coming home tomorrow. Well, was the graph response? Why couldn't he stay where he was?  No, I suppose not, she answered so carelessly that he was conscious of a very jealous feeling. Chillens always like to stay with their fathers when they's nice as my Papa Jack is. The old man growled something behind his newspaper that she did not hear.  She did not go back to Locust the next day, nor for weeks after that. She was up almost as soon as mom back next morning, thoroughly enjoying the bustle of preparation. She had a finger in everything, from polishing the silver to turning the ice cream freezer. Even Fritz was scrubbed until he came out of his bath with his curls all white and shining. He was proud of himself, from his silky bangs to the tip of his tassel tail.  Her mother came to the door dressed for the evening. She wore an airy looking dress of the palest, softest blue. There was a white rose bed caught in her dark hair. A bright color, as fresh as Lloyd's own, tanged her cheeks, and the glad light in her brown eyes made them unusually brilliant. Lloyd jumped up and threw her arms around her. Oh, mother, she cried, you and Fritz is so boofy. The engine whistled up the road at the crossing. Come, we have just time to get to the station, said Mrs. Sherman, holding out her hand. They went through the gate down on the air path that ran beside the dusty road. The train had just stopped in front of the little station when they reached it. A number of gentlemen coming out from the city to spend Sunday at the hotel came down the steps.  They could not help smiling at Fritz as he first looked about in his imposing rose-collar. Why, whereas Papa Jack asked Lloyd in distress as passenger after passenger stepped down, isn't he going to come? The tears were beginning to gather in her eyes when she saw him in the door of the car, not hurrying along to meet them as he always used to come, so full of life and vigor, but leaning heavily on the porter's shoulder, looking very pale and weak. Lloyd looked up at her mother, from whose face every particle of color had faded. Mrs. Sherman gave a low, frightened cry as she sprang forward to meet him. Oh, Jack, what is the matter? What has happened to you? She exclaimed as he took her in his arms. The train had gone, and they were left alone on the platform.   I've had fever ever since, and it has pulled me down considerably. I must send someone for a carriage, she said, looking around anxiously. No indeed, he protested, it's only a few steps. I can walk it as well as not. The sight of you and the baby has made me stronger already. He sent a colored boy on ahead with his release, and they walked slowly up the path, with first running wildly around them, barking a glad welcome. How sweet and home-like it all looked, he said as he stepped into the hall where Mom Beck was just lighting the lamps. Then he sank down on the couch, completely exhausted and really closed his eyes. The little Colonel looked at his white face and alarm. All the gladness seemed to have been taken out of the homecoming. Her mother was busy trying to make him comfortable, and paid no attention to the disconsolate little figure at wandering about the house alone. Mom Beck had gone for the doctor. The supper was drying up in the warming oven. The ice cream was melting in the freezer. Nobody seemed to care. There was no one to notice the pretty table with a tarré of flowers and cut glass and silver. When Mom Beck came back, Lloyd ate all by herself and then sat out on the kitchen doorstep while the doctor made his visit. She was just going mournfully off to bed with the naking lump in her throat when her mother opened the door. Come to papa goodnight, she said. He's lots better now. She climbed up on the bed beside him and buried her face on his shoulder to hide the tears she had been trying to keep back all evening. How the child has grown, he exclaimed. Do you notice Beth how much plainer she talks? It does not seem at all like the baby I left last spring. Well, she'll soon be six years old.  She'll be papa's little comfort. The ache in her throat was all gone after that. She romped with frits all the time she was undressing. Papa Jack was worth next morning. It was hard for Lloyd to keep quiet when the late September sunshine was so gloriously yellow and the whole outdoors seemed so wide awake. She tipped her out of the darkened room where her father lay and swung on the front gate until she saw the doctor riding up on his bay horse. It seemed to her that the day would never pass. Mom back rustling around in her best dress ready for church that afternoon took pity on the lonesome child. Go get your best hat, honey, she said, and I'll take you with me. It was all of the little Colonel's greatest pleasures to be allowed to go to the colored church.  But it already commenced by the time they took their seats. Nearly everybody in the congregation was swaying back and forth in time to the mournful melody of Senna, Senna, where's your boon? One old woman across the aisle began clapping her hands together and repeated in the sing song tone, Oh, Lordy, I'm so happy. Why, that's just what our parrot says, exclaimed Lloyd, so much surprised that she spoke right out loud.  She thought the child was very quiet until the time came to take the collection. She always enjoyed this part of the service more than anything else. Instead of passing baskets around, each person was invited to come forward and let his offering on the table. Woolly heads wagged and many feet kept time to the tune. Oh, I's bound to get to glory, hallelujah, let me go. The little Colonel proudly marched up with Mom back's contribution, and then watched the others pass down the aisle. One young girl in a gorgeously trimmed dress paraded up to the table several times, singing at the top of her voice, "'Took it that good, but not the nice, richards,' whispered Mom back's nearest neighbor with a sniff. She dung got a nickel changed in the penny so she could march up and show herself five times. It was nearly sundown when they started home. A tall-colored man wearing a high-silk hat and carrying a gold-headed cane joined them on the way out. "'Howdy, Sister Paula,' he said gravely, shaking hands. That was a fine discourse. We had the pleasure of listening to this evening. Indeed, it was, Brother Foster,' she answered, "'House all up your way.'" Little Colonel running on after a couple of white butterflies paid no attention to the conversation until she heard her own name mentioned. "'Mr. Shaman came home last night, I hear. Yes, but not to stay long, I'm afraid.  He's down with fever, regular typhoid. He doesn't look to me like he's long for this world. What's to become of Paul Miss Elizabeth, if that's the case, is more than I know. We mustn't cross the bridge till we come to it, Sister Paula,' he suggested. "'I know that, but a looking glass broke yesterday morning when nobody had put a finger on it, and his picture fell down off the wall while I was sleeping in the parlor. Pete set his dog Dunn Howell all night last night, and I have dreamt three times, hand-running about muddy water.' Mombeck felt a little hand clutch her skirts and turned to see a frightened little face looking anxiously up at her. "'Now what's the matter with you, honey?' she asked. "'I'm only a-telling Mr. Foster about some silly old signs my mommy used to believe him, but they don't mean nothing at all.'" Lloyd couldn't have told why she was unhappy. She had not understood all that Mombeck had said, but her sensitive little mind was shadowed by a foreboding of trouble. The shadow deepened as the days passed. Papa Jack got worse instead of better. There were times when he did not recognize anyone and talked wildly of things that had happened out at the mines. All the long, beautiful October went by, and still he lay in the darkened room. Lloyd wandered listlessly from place to place, trying to keep out of the way and to make as little trouble as possible. "'I'm a real little woman now,' she repeated proudly whenever she was allowed to pound ice or carry fresh water. "'I'm Papa's little comfort.'" One cold frosty evening she was standing in the hall when the doctor came out of the room and began to put on his overcoat. Her mother followed him to take his directions for the night. He was an old friend of the family. Elizabeth had climbed on his knees many a time when she was a child. She loved this faithful, white-haired old doctor almost as dearly as she had her father. "'My daughter,' he said kindly, laying his hand on her shoulder, "'you are wearing yourself out and will be down yourself if you are not careful. You must have a professional nurse. No telling how long this is going to last.'" "'As soon as Jack is able to travel, you must have a change of climate.' Her lips trembled. "'We can't afford it, doctor,' she said. "'Jack has been too sick from the very first to talk about business.' He always said a woman should not be worried with such matters anyway. "'I don't know what arrangement she has made out best. "'I know the little I have in my purse now may be all that stands between us and the poor house.' The doctor drew on his gloves. "'Why don't you tell your father how matters are?' he asked. Then he saw he had ventured a step too far. "'I believe Jack would rather die than take help from his hands,' she answered, drawing herself up proudly. Her eyes flashed. "'I would, too, as far as I am concerned myself.' Then a tender look came over her pale, tired face as she added gently. "'But I'd do anything on earth to help Jack get well.' The doctor cleared his throat vigorously and bowled it out with a gruff good-night. As he rode past Locust he took solid satisfaction in shaking his fist at the light in an upper window. CHAPTER VI The Little Colonel followed her mother to the dining-room, but paused on the threshold as she saw her throw herself into Mombeck's arms and burst out crying. "'Oh, Becky,' she sobbed, "'what is going to become of us? The doctor says we must have a professional nurse, and we must go away from here soon. There are only a few dollars left in my purse, and I don't know what we'll do when they are gone. I just know Jack is going to die, and then I'll die, too, and then what will become of the baby?' Mombeck sat down and took the trembling form in her arms. "'There, there,' she said soothingly.  Poor child, all blown out with watchin' and worry. Never mind. Oh, Becky, is as good as a dozen nurses yet. I'll get you to come up and look after the kitchen. And nobody ain't goin' to die, honey. Don't you go to slayin' all you've got before you's called on to do it. The good Lord is goin' to provide for us, same as Abraham.' The last Sabbath sermon was still fresh in her mind. If we only hold out faithful, there's bound to be a Abraham caught by the horns someplace, even if we haven't got eyes to see through the thickets. The Lord will provide whether it's a bunt offering or meals-vittles. He surely will.' Lord crept away frightened.  All at once her bright, happy world had changed to such a strange, uncertain place. She's felt as if all sorts of terrible things were about to happen. She went into the parlor and crawled into a dark corner under the piano, feeling that there was no place to go for comfort, since the one who would always kiss the way her little troubles was so heartbroken herself. There was a patter of soft feet across the carpet, and Fritz poked a sympathetic nose into her face. She put her arms around him and laid her head against his curly back with a desolate sob. It is pitiful to think how much imaginative children suffer through their wrong conception of things. She has seen the little roll of bills in her mother's pocketbook. She has seen how much smaller it grew every time it was taken out to pay for the expensive wines and medicines that had to be bought so often. She had heard her mother tell the doctor that was all that stood between them in the poor house. There was no warden or into the little colonel that brought such thoughts of horror as the word poor house. Her most vivid recollection of her life in New York was something that happened a few weeks before they left there. One day in the park she ran away from the maid who, instead of Mom Beck, had taken charge of her that afternoon. When the angry woman found her, she frightened her almost into a spasm by telling her what always happened to naughty children who ran away. They took all their pretty clothes off, she said, and dressed them up in old things made of bed-ticking. Then they take them to the poor house where nobody but beggars live.  On their way home she had pointed out to the frightened child, a poor woman who was grabbing in an ash barrel. That's the way people get to look who live in poor houses, she said. It was this memory that was traveling the little Colonel now. Oh, Fritz, she whispered with the tears running out her cheeks. I can't bear to think of my pretty mother going there.  She was so bony and stov-looking. It would just kill Paul Papa Jack to lie on straw and eat out of a tin pan. I know it would. When Mom Beck opened the door, hunting her, the room was so dark that she would have gone away if the dog could not come running out from under the piano. You here, too, child? She asked in surprise. I have to go down now and see if I can get Judy to come help tomorrow. Do you think you can undress yourself tonight? Of course, answered the little Colonel. Mom Beck was in such a hurry to be off that she did not notice the tremble in the voice that answered her.  She got her hands full already. All right, answered the child.  She opened the door just to crack and peeped in.  In another instant Lloyd was in her lap.  It was the expression of one who understood and sympathized. Oh, mother! she whispered. We does have such a lot of troubles. Yes, chickabitty, but I hope they will soon be over now, was the answer as the anxious face tried to smile bravely for the child's sake. Papa is sleeping so nicely now. He is sure to be better in the morning. That comforted the little Colonel some, but for a day she was haunted by the fear of the poor house. Every time her mother paid out any money she looked anxiously to see what was still left. She wandered about the place, touching the trees and vines with caressing hands, feeling that she might soon have to leave them. She loved them all so dearly, every stick and stone, and even the stubby old snowball bushes that never bloomed. Her dresses were outgrown and faded, but no one had any time or thought to spend on getting her new ones.   It mortified her for anyone to see her looking so shabby. Still, she uttered no word of complaint for fear of lestening the little amount in the pocketbook that her mother had said stood between them and the poor house. She sat with her feet tucked under her when anyone called.  One day the doctor called Mrs. Sherman to the hall. I have just come from your father's, he said. He is suffering from a severe attack of rheumatism. He is confined to his room and is positively starving for company. He told me he would give anything in the world to have his little grandchild with him. There were tears in his eyes when he said it, and that means a good deal from him. He fairly idolizes her. The servants have told him she mopes around and is getting thin and pale. He is afraid she will come down with a fever, too. I like to get her there, but I think it's better to tell you, frankly, how matters stand. It will do the child good to have a change, Elizabeth, and I solemnly think you ought to let her go for a week at least. But doctor, she has never been away from me a single night in her life. She'd die of homesickness, and I know she'll never consent to leave me. Then suppose Jack should get worse. We'll suppose nothing of the kind, he interrupted brusquely. Tell Becky to pack up her things. Leave me. I'll get her consent without any trouble. Come, Colonel, he called, as he left the house.  No one ever knew what the kind old fellow said to her to induce her to go to her grandfathers. She came back from her ride looking brighter than she had in a long time. She felt that in some way, although in what way she could not understand, her going would help them to escape the dreaded poor house. Don't sit in mom back with me, she pleaded when the time came to start. Tell me, mother. Mrs. Sherman had not been past the gate for weeks, but she could not refuse the coaxing hand that clung to hers. It was a dull, dreary day. There was a chilling hint of snow in the damp air. The leaves whirled past them with a mournful rustling. Mrs. Sherman turned up the collar of Lloyd's cloak. You must have a new one soon, she said with a sigh. Maybe one of mine could be made ever for you, and those poor little shoes I must think to send to town for a new pair. The clock was over so soon. The little Colonel's heart beat fast as they came inside of the gate. She winked bravely to keep back the tears, for she had promised the doctor not to let her mother see her cry. A week seemed such a long time to look forward to. She clung to her mother's neck, feeling that she could never give her up so long. Tell me good-bye, baby dear, said Mrs. Sherman, feeling that she could not trust herself to stay much longer. It is too cold for you to stand here. Run on, and I'll hide the door. The little Colonel started bravely down the avenue with frits at her heels. Every few steps she turned to look back and kiss her hand. Mrs. Sherman watched her through a blur of tears. It had been nearly seven years since she had last stood at that old gate. Such a crowd of memories came rushing up. She looked again. There was a fudder of a white handkerchief as the little Colonel and Fritz went up the steps, then the great front door closed behind them. CHAPTER VII The early twilight hour just before the lampster lit was a lonesomest one the little Colonel had ever spent. Her grandfather was asleep upstairs. There was a cheery wood fire crackling on the hearth of the big fireplace in the hall, but the great house was so still. The corners were full of shadows. She opened the front door with a wild longing to run away. Come, Fritz, she said, closing the door softly behind her. Let's go down to the gate. The air was cold. She shivered as they raced along under the bare branches of the locusts. She leaned against the gate, peering out through the bars. The roads stretched white through the gathering darkness in the direction of the little cottage. Oh, I want to go home so bad, she sobbed. I want to see my mother. She laid her hand irresolutely on the latch and pushed the gate ajar, and then hesitated. No, I promised the doctor I'd stay. She thought, he said I could help mother, and Papa Jack, both of them, by staying here and I'll do it. Fritz, who had pushed himself through the partly open gate to wrestle around among the dead leaves outside, came bounding back with something in her hand that she called, give it to me.  Oh, it's mothers, she cried. I reckon she dropped it when she was telling me goodbye. Oh, you dear old dog for finding it. She laid the glove against her cheek as fondly as if it had been her mother's soft hand. There was something wonderfully comforting in this touch. As they walked slowly back towards the house, she rolled it up and put it lovingly away in her tiny pocket. All that was a talisman whose touch helped the homesick little soul to be brave and wovenly.  Who all is going to have tea in the Colonel's room tonight, said Maria. He told me to tote it up soon as he rung the bell. There it goes now, cried the child, jumping up from the Maria up the wide stairs. The Colonel was sitting in a large, easy chair wrapped in a gaily flower dressing gown that made his hair look unusually white by contrast. His dark eyes were intently watching the door. As it opened to let the little Colonel pass through, a very tender smile lighted up his stern face. So you did come to see Grandpa after all, he cried triumphantly. Come here and give me a kiss. Seems to me you've been staying away a mighty long time.  We're going to have a regular little tea party, said the Colonel. Lloyd washed with sparkling eyes as Walker set out the rare old fashioned dishes.   The expression on her beaming face was worth a fortune to the Colonel. When Walker pushed her chair up to the table, she turned to her grandfather with shining eyes. Oh, it's just like a pink story, she cried, clapping her hands. The shades on the candles, the icing on the cake, and the posies in the bowl, while even the jelly is that color too.  I'm so glad I came. The Colonel smiled at the success of his plan. In the depths of his satisfaction, he even had a plate of quail and toast set down on the hearth for Fritz. This is the nicest potty I ever was at, remarked the little Colonel, as Walker helped her to jam the third time. Her grandfather chuckled. Blackberry Jam always makes me think of Tom, he said. Did you ever hear what your Uncle Tom did when he was a little fellow in dresses?  Well, the children were all playing hide and seek one day. They hunted high and they hunted low after everybody else had been caught, but they couldn't find Tom. At last they began to call Home Free, you can come Home Free, but he did not come. When he had been hidden so long they were frightened about him. They went to their mother and told her he wasn't to be found anywhere. She looked down the well and behind the fire wards in the fireplaces. They called and called till they were out of breath. Finally she thought of looking in the big dark pantry where she kept her fruit. First stood Mr. Tom. He had opened a jar of Blackberry Jam and was going for it with both hands.  He was the funniest side I ever saw. The little Colonel laughed heartily at his description and begged for more stories. Before he knew it he was back in the past with his little Tom and Elizabeth. Nothing could have entertained the child more than these scenes he recalled of her mother's childhood. All her old play things in the garret he said as they rose from the table. I'll have them brought down tomorrow. There's a doll I brought her from New Orleans once when she was about your size. No telling what it looks like now, but it was a beauty when it was new. Lloyd clapped her hands and spun around the room like a top.  What did she call the dog, grandfather? Do you remember? I never paid much attention to such things, he answered, but I do remember the name of this one because she named it for her mother, Emanthus. Emanthus repeated the child dreamily as she leaned against his knee. I think that is a lovely name, grandfather. I wish they had called me that. She repeated it softly several times. It sounds like the wind of blowing through the white clover, doesn't it? It is a beautiful name to me, my child, answered the old man laying his hand tenderly on her soft hair, but not so beautiful as the woman who wore it. She was the fairest flower of all Kentucky. There never was another lived as sweet and gentle as your grandmother Emanthus. He stroked her hair absently and gazed into the fire. He scarcely noticed when she slipped away from him. She buried her face a moment in the bowl of pink roses. Then she went to the window and drew back the curtain. Leaning her head against the window sill she began stringing on the thread of a tune, the things that just then thrilled her with a sense of their beauty. Oh, the locus trees are blowing, standing softly, and the moon shining through them, and the starlight in pink roses, and Emanthus, and Emanthus. She hummed it over and over until Walker had finished carrying the dishes away. It was a strange thing that the Colonel's unfrequent moods of tenderness were like those warm days that they call weather breathers. They were sure to be followed by a change of atmosphere. This time, as the fairest rheumatic pain came back, he stormed at Walker and scolded him for everything and everything he left undone. When Maria came up to put Lloyd to bed, Fritz was tearing around the room barking at his shadow.  Take it downstairs and put it out of the house, I say. Nobody but a heathen would let a dog sleep in the house anyway. The homesick feeling began to creep over Lloyd again. She had expected to keep Fritz in her room at night for company.  His own ill-yimmer was reflected in her scowl as she followed Maria down the stairs to drive Fritz out into the dark. They stood a moment in the open door after Maria had slapped him with her apron to make him go off the porch. Oh, look at the new moon, cried Lloyd, pointing to the slender crescent in the autumn sky. I was fed to, honey, answered Maria, as I should see it through the trees. That would bring me bad luck for a month, sure. I'll go out on the lawn where it's open and look at it over my right shoulder. While they were walking backward down the path until I'm reaching a place where they could have an uninterrupted view of the moon, Fritz sneaked around to the other end of the porch. No one was watching. He slipped into the house as noiselessly as his foresoft feet could carry him. Maria, going through the dark upper hall with a candle held high above her head, and Lloyd clinging to her skirts, did not see a tassel tail swinging along in front of her. She disappeared under the big bed when she led Lloyd into the room next to the old kernels. The child felt very sober while she was being put to bed. The furniture was heavy and dark. An ugly portrait of a cross old man in a wig frowned at her from over the mantle. The dancing firelight made his eyes frightfully lifelike. The bed was so high she had to climb on a chair to get in. She heard Maria's heavy feet go shuffling down the stairs. A door banged. Then it was so still she could hear the next room.  The lips quivered and a big tear rolled down on the pillow. She reached out to the chair beside her bed where her clothes were hanging and felt in her apron pocket for the little glove. She sat up in bed and looked at it in the dim firelight. Then she held it against her face. Oh! I want my mother! I want my mother! She sobbed in a heartbreaking whisper. Laying her head on her knee she began to cry quietly but with great sighs that nearly choked her. There was a rustling under the bed.  Then she smiled through her tears for there was Fritz, her own dear dog and not an unknown horror waiting to grab her. He stood on his hind legs eagerly trying to lap away her tears with his friendly red tongue. She clasped him in her arms with an ecstatic hug. Oh!  I can go to sleep now. She spread her apron on the bed and motioned him to jump. With one spring he was beside her. It was nearly midnight when the door from the Colonel's room was noiselessly opened. The old man stirred the fire gently until it burst into a bright flame. Then he turned to the bed. You rascal he whispered looking at Fritz who raised his head quickly with a threatening look in his wicked eyes. Lloyd lay with one hand stretched out holding the dog's protecting paw. The other held something against her cheek. What under the sun he thought as he drew it gently from her fingers?  He knew instinctively whose it was.  She wants Elizabeth and so do I and so do I. His heart cried out with bitter longing. It's never been like home since she left. He laid the glove back on her pillow and went to his room. If Jack should die he said to himself any times that night then she would come home again.  End of Chapter 7 Recording by Maria Therese Chapter 8 of The Little Colonel This Libberbox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Maria Therese The Little Colonel by Annie Fellows Johnston Chapter 8 The first thing that greeted the little Colonel's eyes when she opened them next morning was her mother's old doll Maria had laid it on the pillow beside her. It was a beautifully dressed, although in a queer old fashion style that seemed very strange to the child. She took it up with careful fingers remembering its age. Maria had warned her not to weaken her grandfather so she admired it in whispers. Just think Fritz she exclaimed this doll has seen my grandmother Mathis and its name for her. My mother wasn't any bigger than me when she played with it. I think it is the loveliest doll I ever saw in my whole life. Fritz gave a jealous spark. Shhh, commanded his little mistress, didn't you hear Maria say, for the Lord's sake don't wake up old Mars. Why don't you mind? The Colonel was not in the best of viewers after such a wakeful night but the sight of her happiness made him smile in spite of himself when she danced into his room with the doll. She had eaten early breakfast and gone back upstairs to examine the other toys that were spread out in her room. The door between the two rooms was a jar. All the time he was dressing and taking his coffee he could hear her talking to someone. He supposed it was Maria. But as he glanced over his mail he heard the little Colonel saying, Mae Lily do you know about Billy Goat Gruff? Did you hear that story? He leaned forward until he could look through the narrow opening of the door. Two heads were all he could see. Lloyd soft-haired in golden.  He was about to order Mae Lily back to the cabin when he remembered the scene that followed the last time he had done so. He concluded to keep quiet and listen.  The Colonel glanced up within a muted smile as the fine figure reflected in an opposite mirror. Tripp-trap, tripp-trap, Billy Goat Gruff's little feet over the bridge to the giant's house. Just to this point Walker, who was putting things in order, closed the door between the rooms. Open that door, you black grascal called the Colonel furious at the interruption. In his haste to obey, Walker knocked over a pitcher of water that had been left on the floor beside the wash stand.  The Colonel looked in just in time to see her put her hands to her temples with her four fingers protruding from her forehead like horns. She said in a deep voice as she brandished them at Mae Lily.  The little Darkie fell back giggling. That suddenly was like a Billy Goat. We had one once that would make his body step around mighty trouble. It slipped up behind me one morning on the porch and for a while I thought my head was bust open, sir. I got up directly, though, and I clutched him, and when I had done gone through, missed the Billy Goat for Paulie more than a week. He suddenly did. Walker grinned for he had witnessed the scene. Just then, Maria put her head in at the door to say, Mae Lily, your mommy's calling you. Lloyd and Fritz followed her noisily downstairs. Then for nearly an hour, it was very quiet in the great house. The Colonel, looking out of the window, could see Lloyd playing hide-and-seek with Fritz under the Baroque's trees. When she came in, her cheeks were glowing from her run in the frosty air.  See what I found down in the dead leaves she cried? A little blue violet blooming all by itself. She brought a tiny cup from the next room that belonged to the set of doll dishes and put the violet in it. There, he said, setting it on the table at her grandfather's elbow. Now, I'll put a mantis in this chair, where you can look at her and you won't get alone some while I'm playing outdoors. He drew her towards him and kissed her. Why? How cold your hands are, he exclaimed. Staying in this warm room all the time makes me forget it is so wintery outdoors. I don't believe you are dressed warmly enough. You ought not to wear sun-bonnets this time of year. Then for the first time, he noticed her outgrown cloak in her private shoes. What are you wearing these old clothes for, he said impatiently. Why didn't they dress you up when you were going visiting? It isn't showing proper respect to send you off in the oldest things you've got. It was a sore point with a little kernel. It hurt her pride enough to have to wear old clothes without being scolded for it. Besides, she felt that in some way her mother was being blamed for what could not be helped. These the best I've got, she answered will be going away pretty soon. Going away, he echoed blankly. Where? She did not answer until he repeated the question. Then she turned her back on him and started toward the door. The tears she was too proud to let him see were running down her face. Weasel going to the poor house she exclaimed defiantly. Just as soon as the money in the pocketbook he's used up, it was nearly gone when I came away. Here she began to sob as she fumbled at the door she could not see to open. I'm going to my mother right now. She loves me if my clothes are old and ugly. While Lloyd called the kernel amazed and distressed by her sudden burst of grief, come here to grandpa. Why didn't you tell me so before? The face, the tone, the outstretched arm, all drew her irresistibly to him. It was a relief to lay her head on his shoulder and unburdened herself of the fear that it haunted her so many days.  There, there, he said soothingly, stroking her hair with a gentle hand when she had told him all her troubles. Don't you worry about that, my dear. Nobody's going to eat out of ten pans and sleep on straw. Grandpa just won't let them.   And so would mother. I heard her tell the doctor so. A tender expression on the kernel's face changed to one like Flint, but he kept on stroking her hair. People sometimes changed their mind, he said grimly. I wouldn't worry over little thing like that if I were you.  Oh, yes she exclaimed, smiling up at him. I'll bring you some, too. When the first train went into Louisville that afternoon, Walker was on board with an order in his pocket to one of the largest dry goods establishments in the city. When he came out again that evening, he carried a large box into the kernel's room. Lloyd's eyes shown as she looked into it. There was an elegant fur trimmed cloak, a pair of dainty shoes, and a muff that she caught up with the streak of the light. What kind of thing is this, grumbled the kernel as he took out a hat that had been carefully packed in one corner of the box. I told them to send the most stylish thing they had. It looks like a scarecrow, he continued as he set it askew on the child's head. She snatched it off to look at it herself. Oh, it's just like Emma-Louise Wyfolds, she exclaimed. You didn't put it on straight. See, this is the way it goes. She climbed up in front of the mirror and put it on as she had seen Emma-Louise wear it. Well, it's a regular Napoleon hat exclaimed the kernel, much pleased, so little girls nowadays have taken to wearing soldiers' caps, have they? It's right becoming to you with your short hair.  She gave him the military salute he had taught her and then ran to throw her arms around him. Oh, grandfather, she exclaimed between kisses. Use just as good a Santa Claus every bit. The kernel's rheumatism was by their next day, so much better that towards evening he walked downstairs into the long drawing room. The room had not been illuminated in years as it was that night. Every wax taper was lighted in the silver candelabra and the dim old mirrors multiplied their lights on every side. A great wood fire threw a cheerful glow over the portraits and the frescoed ceiling. All the linen covers had been taken from the furniture. Lloyd, who had never seen this room mix up with the chair shrouded and the blinds down, came running in presently. She was bewildered at first by the change. Then she began walking softly around the room examining everything. In one corner stood a tall, gilded harp that her grandmother had played in her girlhood. The heavy cover had kept it fair and untarnished through the years it had stood unused. The child's beauty-loving eyes seemed the loveliest thing she had ever seen. She stood with her hands clasped behind her as her gaze wandered from its petals through the graceful curves of its tall frame. It shone like burnished gold in the soft firelight. Oh, grandfather, she asked at last in a low, reverent tone. Where did you get it? Did an angel leave it here for you? He did not answer for a moment. Then he said huskily as he looked up at the mantel. Yes, my darling, an angel did leave it here. She always was one. Come here to grandpa. He took her on his knee and pointed up to the portrait. The same harp was in the picture, standing beside it with one hand resting on its shining strings was a young girl all in white. That's the way she looked the first time I ever saw her so the Colonel dreamily. A June rose in her hair and another at her throat and her soul looked right out through those great dark eyes. The purest sweetest soul God ever made. My beautiful Amanthus my boofal Amanthus repeated the child and all to whisper. She sat gazing into the lovely young face for a long time while the old man seemed lost in dreams. Grandfather, she said at length patting his cheek to attract his attention and then nodding towards the portrait. Did she love my mother like my mother loves me? Certainly, my dear, was the gentle reply. It was the twilight hour when the homesick feeling always came back the strongest to Lloyd.  The Colonel fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair-moment into his great relief, the T-bell rang. End of Chapter 8 Recording by Maria Therese Chapter 9 Every evening after that during Lloyd's visit the fire burned on the hearth of the long-drawing room. All the waxed candles were lighted and the vases were kept full of flowers fresh from the conservatory. She loved to steal into the room before her grandfather came down and carry on imaginary conversations with the old man. The old man said, well, I don't know what to do with the old man. But I'm going to turn to the young old man and close the curtain and pick up the band of music and play on imaginary conversations with the old portraits. Tom's handsome, boyish face had the greatest attraction for her. His eyes looked down, so smiling into hers that she felt he surely understood every word she said to him.  She is the life of the place. The last evening of her visit, as the Colonel was coming downstairs, he heard the faint vibration of a harp string. It was the first time Lloyd ever ventured to touch one. He paused on the steps opposite the door and looked in. Here, Fritz, she was saying, you get up on the sofa and be the company, and I'll sing for you. Fritz on the rug before the fire opened one sleepy eye and closed it again. She stamped her foot and repeated her order. He paid no attention. Then she picked him up buckly and with much puffing and pulling, lifted him into a chair. He waited until she had gone back to the harp, and then with one spring disappeared under the sofa. Never mind, she said in a disgusted tone, I'll pay you back, mister. Then she looked up at the portrait. Uncle Tom, she said, you be the company, and I'll play for you. Her fingers touched the string so lightly that there was no discord in the random tones. Her voice carried the air clear and true, and the faint trembling of the harp strings interfered with the harmony no more than if a wandering breeze had entangled in them as it passed. Sing me the songs that to me was a dear, long, long ago, long ago. Tell me the tales I delighted to hear, long, long ago, long ago. The sweet little voice sang it to the end without missing a word. It was the lullaby her mother oftenest sang to her. The colonel, who had sat down on the steps to listen, wiped his eyes. My, long ago, is all that I have left to me, he thought bitterly, for to-morrow this little one who brings back my past with every word and gesture will leave me too. Why can't that Jack Sherman die while he's about it, and let me have my own back again? That question recurred to him many times during the week after Lloyd's departure. He missed her happy voice at every turn. He missed her right face at the table. The house seemed so big and desolate without her. He ordered all the covers whipped back on the drawing and furniture, and the door locked as before. It was a happy moment for the little colonel when she was lifted down from Maggie Boy at the cottage gate. She went dancing into the house, so glad to find herself in her mother's arms that she forgot all about the new cloak and moth that had made her so proud and happy. She found her father propped up among the pillows, his fever all gone, and the old mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He admired her new clothes extravagantly, paying her joking compliments until her face beamed. But when he had danced off to find Mom Beck, he turned to his wife, Elizabeth, he said wonderingly, What do you suppose the old fellow gave her clothes for? I don't like it. I'm no beggar if I have lost lots of money. After all that's passed between us, I don't feel like taking anything from his hands or letting my child do it either. To his great surprise, she laid her head down on his pillow beside him and burst into tears. Oh, Jack! She sobbed. I spent the last dollar this morning. I wasn't going to tell you, but I don't know what is to become of us. He gave Lloyd those things because she was just in rags, and I couldn't afford to get anything new. He looked perplexed. Why, I brought home so much, he said in a distressed tone. I knew I was in for a long siege of sickness, but I was sure there was enough to tide us over that. She raised her head. You brought money home? She replied in surprise. I hoped you had and looked through all your things, but there was only a little change in one of your pockets. You must have imagined it when you were delirious. What? He cried, sitting bold upright and then sinking weakly back among the pillows. You poor child! You don't mean to tell me you have been skimping along all these weeks on just that check I sent you before starting home. Yes, she sobbed, her face still buried in the pillow. She had borne the strain of continued anxiety so long that she could not stop her tears now that they had once started. It was with a very thankful heart she watched him take a pack of letters from the coat she brought to his bedside and draw out a sealed envelope. Well, I never once thought of looking among those letters for money, she exclaimed, as he held it up with a smile. His investments of the summer and before had prospered beyond his greatest hopes, he told her. Brother Robb is looking after my interests out west as well as his own, he explained. And as his father-in-law is the grand mogul of the place, I have the inside track. In that firm I went security for in New York, he's nearly on his feet again, and I'll have back every dollar I ever paid out for them. Nobody ever lost anything by those men in the long run. We'll be on top again by this time next year, little wife, so don't borrow any more trouble on that score. The doctor made his last visit that afternoon. He really seemed as if there would never be any more dark days at the little cottage. The clouds have all blown away and left thus their silver lining, said Mr. Sherman the day her husband was able to go out of doors the first time. He walked down to the post office and brought back a loader from the west. He had such encouraging reports of his business that he was impatient to get back to them. He wrote a reply early in the afternoon and insisted on going to mail it himself. I'll never get my strength back, he protested, unless I have more exercise. It was a cold, gray, November day. A few flakes of snow were falling when he started. I'll stop and rest of the tidalers.  After he left the post office, the fresh air tempted him to go farther than he had intended. At a long distance from his home, his strength seemed suddenly to desert him. The snow began to fall on Ernest. None with cold, he grew up his way back to the house, almost fainting from exhaustion. Lloyd was blowing soap bubbles when she saw him come in and fall heavily across the couch.  As she stooped to pick up the broken pieces, her mother's cry startled her still more. Lloyd! Run called Becky! Quick, quick! Oh, he's dying! Lloyd gave one more terrified look and ran to the kitchen, screaming for mom back. No one was there. The next instant, she was running bareheaded as fast as she could up the road to Locust. She was confident of finding her there. The snowflakes clung to her hair and blew against her soft cheeks. All she could see was her mother bringing her hands and her father's white face. When she burst into the house where the colonel sat reading by the fire, she was so breathless at first that she could only gasp when she tried to speak. Come quick! She cried. Papa Jackson's dying! Come stop him! At her first impetuous words, the colonel was on his feet. She caught him by the hand and led him to the door before he fully realized what she wanted. Then he drew back. She was impatient at the slightest delay and only half introduced questions. O come, grandfather! She pleaded. Don't wait to talk! But he held her until he had learned all the circumstances. He was convinced by what she told him that both Lloyd and her mother were unduly alarmed, when he found that no one had sent for him but that the child had come out of her own accord he refused to go. He did not believe that the man was dying, and he did not intend to step aside one inch from the position he had taken. For seven years he had kept the vow he made when he swore to be a stranger to his daughter. He would keep it for seventy times seven years if need be. She looked at him perfectly bewildered. She had been so accustomed to his humoring, her slightest whims, that it had never occurred to her he would fail to help in a time of such distress. Right ground-father she began, her lips trembling piteously. Then her whole expression changed.  The colonel looked at her in surprise. He had never seen a child in such a passion before.    I'll never come here again, never, never, never! The tears rolled down her cheeks as she banged the door behind her and ran down the avenue, her little heart so full of grief and disappointment that she felt she could not possibly bear it.  He knew she was too much like himself ever to retract her words. She would never come back. He never knew until that hour how much he loved her, or how much she had come to mean in his life. She was gone hopelessly beyond recall, unless. He unlocked the door of the drawing room and went in. A faint breath of dried rose leaves greeted him. He walked over to the empty fireplace and looked over the sweet face of the portrait a long time. Then he leaned his arm on the mantle and bowed his head on it. Oh, Emanthus! He groaned. Tell me what to do. Wood's own words came back to him. She'd go right straight and put her arms round my mother and kiss away all the sorry feelings. It was a long time he stood there. The battle between his love and pride was a hard one. At last he raised his head and saw that the short winter day was almost over. Without waiting to order his horse he started off in the falling snow towards the cottage. End of Chapter 9 Recording by Maria Therese A good many forebodings crowded into the Colonel's mind as he walked hurriedly on. He wondered how he would be received. What if Jack Sherman had died after all? What if Elizabeth should refuse to see him? A dozen times before he reached the gate he pictured to himself the probable scene of their meeting. He was out of breath and decidedly disturbed in mind when he walked up the path. As he paused on the porch steps, Lloyd came running around the house carrying her parrot on a broom. Her hair was blowing around her rosy face under the Napoleon hat she wore and she was singing. The last two hours had made a vast change in her feelings. Her father had only fainted from exhaustion. When she came running back from locust she was afraid to go in the house, lest what she dreaded most had happened while she was gone. She opened the doors timidly and peeped in. Her father's eyes were open, then she heard him speak.  To her great surprise her father began to laugh and laughed so heartily as she repeated her saucy speech to her grandfather that it took the worst thing out of her disappointment. All the time the Colonel had been fighting his pride among the memories of the dim old drawing room Lloyd had been playing with Fritz and Polly.  If he had fallen out of the sky she could not have been more astonished. Where is your mother, child? He asked, trying to speak humbly. With a backward look, as if she could not believe the evidence of her own sight, she led the way into the hall. Mother, mother! She called, pushing open the part of the door. Come here, quick! The Colonel taking the hat from his white head and dropping it on the floor took an expectant step forward. There was a slight rustle and Elizabeth stood in the doorway. For just a moment they looked into each other's faces. Then the Colonel held out his arm. Little daughter, he said, in a tremulous voice. The love of a lifetime seemed to tremble in those two words. In an instant her arms were around his neck and he was kissing away the sorry feelings as tenderly as the lost amount this could have done.  She danced around in such excitement that fit spark wildly. Come and see Papa Jack, too, she cried, leading him into the next room. Whatever deep-rooted prejudice this was, Jack Sherman may have had, they were unselfishly put aside after one look into his wife's heavy face. He raised himself on his elbow as the dignified old soldier crossed the room. The white hair, the empty sleeve, the remembrance of all the old man had lost, and the thought that after all he was Elizabeth's father, was in the very tender feeling through the younger man's heart. Will you take my hand, sir? He asked, setting up and offering it in a straightforward way. Of course he will, exclaimed Lloyd, who still clung to her grandfather's arm. Of course he will. I've been too near death to harbor ill will any longer, said the younger man, as their hands met in a strong, forgiving clasp. The old Colonel smiled grimly. I thought that even death itself could not make me give in, he said. But I've had to make a complete surrender to the little Colonel. That Christmas there was such a celebration at Locust that May Lily and Henry Clay nearly went wild in the genital excitement of the preparation. Walker hung up Cedar and Holly in mistletoe till the big house looked like a bower. Maria bustled about, airing rooms and bringing out stores of linen and silver. The Colonel himself felt a great punchbowl that his grandfather had brought from Virginia. I'm glad we're going to stay here tonight, said Lord, as she hung up her stocking Christmas Eve. It would be so much easier for Santa Claus to get down these big chimneys. In the morning, when she found four tiny stockings hanging beside her own, overflowing with candy for frits, her happiness was complete. That night there was a tree in the drawing room that reached to the frescoes ceiling. When May Lily came in to admire it and get her share from its loaded branches, Lloyd came skipping up to her.  Mom Beck's going to stay here with me, too, while mother and Papa Jack go down south where the alligators live. Then, when they get well and come back, Papa Jack is going to build a house on the other side of the lawn. I'm to live in both places at once, mother said so. There were music and light, laughing voices, and happy hearts in the old home that night. It seemed as if the old place had awakened from a long dream and found itself young again. The plan the little Colonel unfolded to May Lily was carried out in every detail. It seemed a long winter to the child, but it was a happy one. There were not so many displays of temper now that she was growing older, but the letters that went southward every week were full of her odd speeches and mischievous pranks. The old Colonel found it hard to refuse her anything. If he did not then for Mom Beck's decided ways, the child would have been sadly spoiled. As last the spring came again, the pee we sang in the cedars, the dandelions sprinkled the roadside like stars. The locus trees tossed up the white spray of their fragrant blossoms with every wave of their green boughs. They'll soon be here.  The morning they came, she had been down the avenue a dozen times to look for them before the carriage had even started to meet them.  Just as he dropped a branch down at her feet, she caught the sound of wheels. Hurry, Grandfather, she called, day's coming. But the old Colonel had already started on towards the gate to meet them. The carriage stopped, and in a moment more, Papa Jack was tossing Lloyd up in his arms while the old Colonel was helping Elizabeth to alight. Isn't this a happy moan and exclaim the little Colonel as she leaned from her seat on her father's shoulder to kiss his sunbird cheek? A very happy morning echoed her grandfather as he walked on towards the house with Elizabeth's hand clasped close to his. Long after they had passed up the steps, the old locus kept echoing the little Colonel's words. Years ago they had showered their fragrant blossoms in the same path to make a sweet white way for Amanthus' little feet to tread when the Colonel brought home his ride. They had dropped their tribute on a coffin lid when Tom was carried home under their drooping branches. The soldier boy had loved them, so the little cluster had been laid on the breast of the gray coat he wore. Night and day they had guarded this old home like silent sentinels that loved it well. Now, as they looked down on the United Family, a thrill passed through them to their remotest bloom-tipped branches. It sounded only like a faint rustling of leaves, but it was the locus whispering together. The children have come home at last. They kept repeating, What a happy morning. Oh, what a happy morning. The end. End of CHAPTER TEN OF THE LITTLE CURNEL by Annie Fellows Johnston


Leech Lake Tribal College invited a few teens to their campus recently to explore the world around them. Cheryl Moore has that story. There's a lot of resources we can get from the environment around us. And the Leech Lake Tribal College Earth Systems Camp is meant to teach the youth all about it. The camp is in its second year and it focuses on the four Earth System Sciences. And we brought students in from the community, from the local area, high schools and middle schools to talk about those systems. And so what I talk about when I'm mean by the Earth System Sciences is that the lithosphere, so the soil beneath our feet, the atmosphere or the air that we all breathe, the hydrosphere, which is water, which connects us all, and then the biosphere, which is all the critters and plants and animals out there. All attendees are between the ages of 12 and 19 years old and they're learning from adults who have a passion about natural resources. The kids do everything from exploring the local lakes to learning how to make willow trays and even arrowheads. A lot of them haven't done activities like this where they're using natural fibers to make something useful that traditionally people in this area have done for thousands of years. So I think it's been really rewarding. On the first day on Monday we had students out at Wolf Lake looking at macro invertebrates, which are the little critters in the water that are good indicator if the water is healthy. While the kids will tell you they're having fun, they're also learning valuable lessons they can take throughout their life. I could show others and like show them what these things mean, or like if we're walking out in the woods and they try to eat a flower and I was like oh no you'll die from it or something. And the camp isn't over yet. The rest of the week is still filled with big plans ahead. Mara will be meeting up with some of the naturalists on the Chippewa National Forest and will be going out and doing various activities and looking at some of the phenology of the area or the response to seasonality. So when the buds emerge, when the leaves bud out. Reporting in Cass Lake, Shremor Lakeland News. Students at the camp also learn about native culture. You can learn more about the camp on the Leech Lake Tribal College website. If you enjoyed this segment of Lakeland News, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to Lakeland PBS.