Every leaf
was her acquaintance, every flower her friend and gossip. She knew
every tree of the forest by its bark; knew when it blossomed, and how.
More than this,--some subtle sense for which we have no name gave her
the power of reading with a touch the mood and humor of those she was
with; and when her hand rested in that of a friend, she knew whether
the friend were glad or gay, before hearing the sound of his voice.
Another power she had,--that of attracting to her "all creatures
living beneath the sun, that creep or swim or fly or run." Not a cat
or dog in the village but would leave his own master or mistress at a
single call from Melody. She could imitate every bird-call with her
wonderful voice; and one day she had come home and told Miss Rejoice
quietly that she had been making a concert with a wood-thrush, and
that the red squirrels had sat on the branches to listen. Miss Vesta
said, "Nonsense, child! you fell asleep, and had a pretty dream." But
Miss Rejoice believed every word, and Melody knew she did by the touch
of her thin, kind old hand.
It might well have been true; for now, as the child sat down beside a
small white stone, which evidently marked a child's grave, she gave a
low call, and in a moment a gray squirrel came running from the stone
wall (he had been sitting there, watching her with his bright black
eyes, looking so like a bit of the wall itself that the sharpest eyes
would hardly have noticed him), and leaped into her lap.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71