Miracles on Maple Hill (Harcourt Young Classics) by Virginia Sorensen
Authors: Virginia Sorensen
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His hair looked quite combed, and he was tall and thin and carried the same cane he had waved from the steps that morning.
"Good evening," he said.
He sounded polite and special, the way he spoke, not wild in the least, in spite of the wild goat smell all around him. "I went to ask Mr. Chris where the children lived," he said. "I'm afraid I frightened them away." He looked straight at Joe and then at Marly. "I did not know who it was, in my spring-house. I thought it was some bad boys who have come, sometimes, to steal my cheeses. Even, once, they dropped every cheese and poured all my milk into the spring."
Mother and Daddy glanced at each other, and at Joe, and at Marly, questioning.
"In the spring? What did they do that for?" Marly cried. "Why, it's a
lovely
spring—"
"Were you at his place, Joe? You and Marly?" Daddy asked. "I wondered what you two had been up to today."
The hermit spoke again, quickly, and held out a package in his hand, wrapped in newspaper. "Nothing was harmed," he said. "It is all right. I hope they will come again." He was looking at Mother, and Mother moved to him and took the package from his hand.
"I brought some of my own cheese and honey," he said. "Very good. There is no goat cheese like this except in Switzerland, where I came from as a boy."
"Thank you very much," Mother said.
"If the children will come again tomorrow, I will show them how it is I make the cheese," he said.
"And the chains?" Joe spoke for the first time, eagerly, relieved. "Fritz said you showed him how you make those wooden chains."
The hermit laughed. His teeth were long and brown, but his laugh was beautiful, Marly thought. It sounded pleased. "The chains, they are simple!" he said. "If you have wood and a good knife, I will show you now. Tonight."
Mother glanced at Daddy. Marly knew she was wondering whether Daddy would want this goat-man to stay. He used to object to people coming and staying, especially queer old people who talked and talked. Mother knew all sorts of people wherever she went, it seemed, and they often came to call while Daddy was away.
"Please sit down," Daddy said. "Joe, that one knife we sharpened—"
Whoever would have thought that morning of the hermit sitting that very night in their very own kitchen? He took an ordinary stick of kindling from the box and smelled it and said, "Maple. Good!" and proceeded to make a neat little totem pole out of it. He worked quickly with long, stained fingers. Miraculously the first link appeared, and the second, and the third. He kept having Joe do some of the work, to learn. Joe worked slowly, his mouth pursed up.
"It is rough, this, to show you. It should be done carefully," the hermit said. He stayed for four solid hours! Before the chain was finished, Mother made a big pot of coffee. She let it boil and boil, and it drove some of the goat smell out of the house.
When he went away, the hermit said, "Promise to come back soon. The Father and the Mother, too." He looked at Marly. "I have a telescope. Mr. Chris said you will like to see through it. Not stars only. Small things everywhere. From my hill"—he smiled—"I get acquainted with all the ducks on the pond."
Joe said, not looking at Mother or at Daddy, "I'm sorry I looked into your house the way I did. I thought..."
Marly wondered if Joe was going to tell the truth, that he thought the hermit was away. But he didn't. His voice hung in the air, and the hermit said, "When I am not there, come in and make yourself at home. I am sometimes at the barn, in the woods perhaps, or at the hives." He looked at Daddy. "For a time my own son lived with me here on the mountain," he said. "Now he is gone to be a soldier."
As he went off, Joe sat on the step and watched. For a long time he just sat there, swinging the chain in his hand.
"What on earth will we do with this awful cheese?" Mother said. "Phew! It's strong!"
Joe stood up and went in. He looked just the way Daddy used to look when he was
"Good evening," he said.
He sounded polite and special, the way he spoke, not wild in the least, in spite of the wild goat smell all around him. "I went to ask Mr. Chris where the children lived," he said. "I'm afraid I frightened them away." He looked straight at Joe and then at Marly. "I did not know who it was, in my spring-house. I thought it was some bad boys who have come, sometimes, to steal my cheeses. Even, once, they dropped every cheese and poured all my milk into the spring."
Mother and Daddy glanced at each other, and at Joe, and at Marly, questioning.
"In the spring? What did they do that for?" Marly cried. "Why, it's a
lovely
spring—"
"Were you at his place, Joe? You and Marly?" Daddy asked. "I wondered what you two had been up to today."
The hermit spoke again, quickly, and held out a package in his hand, wrapped in newspaper. "Nothing was harmed," he said. "It is all right. I hope they will come again." He was looking at Mother, and Mother moved to him and took the package from his hand.
"I brought some of my own cheese and honey," he said. "Very good. There is no goat cheese like this except in Switzerland, where I came from as a boy."
"Thank you very much," Mother said.
"If the children will come again tomorrow, I will show them how it is I make the cheese," he said.
"And the chains?" Joe spoke for the first time, eagerly, relieved. "Fritz said you showed him how you make those wooden chains."
The hermit laughed. His teeth were long and brown, but his laugh was beautiful, Marly thought. It sounded pleased. "The chains, they are simple!" he said. "If you have wood and a good knife, I will show you now. Tonight."
Mother glanced at Daddy. Marly knew she was wondering whether Daddy would want this goat-man to stay. He used to object to people coming and staying, especially queer old people who talked and talked. Mother knew all sorts of people wherever she went, it seemed, and they often came to call while Daddy was away.
"Please sit down," Daddy said. "Joe, that one knife we sharpened—"
Whoever would have thought that morning of the hermit sitting that very night in their very own kitchen? He took an ordinary stick of kindling from the box and smelled it and said, "Maple. Good!" and proceeded to make a neat little totem pole out of it. He worked quickly with long, stained fingers. Miraculously the first link appeared, and the second, and the third. He kept having Joe do some of the work, to learn. Joe worked slowly, his mouth pursed up.
"It is rough, this, to show you. It should be done carefully," the hermit said. He stayed for four solid hours! Before the chain was finished, Mother made a big pot of coffee. She let it boil and boil, and it drove some of the goat smell out of the house.
When he went away, the hermit said, "Promise to come back soon. The Father and the Mother, too." He looked at Marly. "I have a telescope. Mr. Chris said you will like to see through it. Not stars only. Small things everywhere. From my hill"—he smiled—"I get acquainted with all the ducks on the pond."
Joe said, not looking at Mother or at Daddy, "I'm sorry I looked into your house the way I did. I thought..."
Marly wondered if Joe was going to tell the truth, that he thought the hermit was away. But he didn't. His voice hung in the air, and the hermit said, "When I am not there, come in and make yourself at home. I am sometimes at the barn, in the woods perhaps, or at the hives." He looked at Daddy. "For a time my own son lived with me here on the mountain," he said. "Now he is gone to be a soldier."
As he went off, Joe sat on the step and watched. For a long time he just sat there, swinging the chain in his hand.
"What on earth will we do with this awful cheese?" Mother said. "Phew! It's strong!"
Joe stood up and went in. He looked just the way Daddy used to look when he was
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