THE ORPHANAGE IN THE WOODS As the spring season advanced, the two children at the dwÓr grew more and more excited. They were awaiting, with great impatience, the arrival of St. John's Eve, the 24th of June. Marya was seated upon the stiff-looking sofa in the reception salon, while her brother Peter was looking through a book of photographs, depicting the celebration of the Wianki. "Do you suppose mother will allow us to cast a wreath into the Vistula?" asked Peter, without looking up from his book, so intensely wrapped up was he in the illustrations. "Certainly," Marya replied. "If we go to the celebration at all, we will be allowed to do "You don't imagine you will be allowed to go in search of the wonderful fern, do you, Marya?" the boy questioned. "Why not? Of course I know I may not go alone, but I shall have Mademoiselle with me. It would be quite proper then, and Mademoiselle would enjoy it herself, I am sure. She has never seen the celebration, Peter, and she's just as crazy over it as we are. If sister Martha comes we will be allowed to go," the girl continued, "for she knows what it is to be shut off from every pleasure that even the commonest people have." "Marya," warned Peter, in a low tone. At the warning, the girl looked up. She saw her mother upon the threshold. She arose instantly from her seat upon the sofa and advanced "Now, children, listen," Mrs. Ostrowska said, as she gathered her two children to her. "You need not be a bit afraid that you will not enjoy yourselves in Cracow. I have promised to take you to the celebration of the Wianki, "I hope I shall," the girl replied. "But suppose Mademoiselle should become frightened and want to return?" "In that event," the mother said, smiling, "so long as you have the courage, you may continue alone," for she felt quite safe in granting this privilege, as she did not truly believe her little daughter would be brave enough to continue alone. "When shall we start?" Marya asked, in great excitement. "It is now the twentieth of June," Mrs. Ostrowska replied. "Your father has some business to attend to in Cracow, so we shall leave here on the twenty-second, which will give us ample time to look about the city and have a good visit with your sister Martha, for you know she promised to meet us there." "So did sister Gabriele," added Peter. "Yes," the mother replied, "we shall all be together, I hope." "And may I go now and tell Mademoiselle?" Marya inquired, eagerly, as she rose. "Run along," the mother answered. "And what was my boy reading as I came in?" she continued, turning to her son, who had not had a chance to say much while the irrepressible sister was in the room. "Oh, I was looking at some old books I found in the library, about the celebration of the Wianki. I wanted to know all about it; "It is a curious custom, no doubt," the mother replied, as she walked to the table, where the book still remained open. And, for some time, the two looked over the great volume of illustrations, remarking every little while about this one or that. "You remember the story of the Princess Wanda, and how she threw herself into the Vistula in order to save her country from wars?" the mother asked. "Very well, indeed," the boy replied. "She was a brave princess. But is it really true, mother?" the boy inquired. "There was a Princess Wanda at one time, but as to the rest of the story, that is what people say about her." At this moment Marya re-entered the room, leading her governess by the hand. "Mother," the child said, as she advanced "Indeed I am," the young lady replied. "I have read much about it, in France, but have never witnessed one of the festivals; besides, it happens to be my birthday, so it will be an added pleasure." "I have arranged for the children of the Orphanage to come out to us just after our return," Mrs. Ostrowska said, addressing the tall, bright-eyed young lady who served in capacity of governess to her daughter; "I wish you would take Marya down to the Bosquet and help prepare the cottage for their reception. The maids are there now, airing the place out, and I will drive over later in the afternoon, when I shall have everything together that I want sent down." "Very well, Madame," Mademoiselle replied. "Marya and I will attend to it as soon as luncheon is finished. Shall we take the pony cart?" "Yes, you might," Mrs. Ostrowska said, "and, when you arrive there, see that the beds are well aired, for the maids are apt to be a little careless, and we can't afford to have any of the children take cold." "There's luncheon now," Marya called out, impulsively. "Run along then, children," the mistress said, "and remember, day after to-morrow we are off for Cracow." With hurried steps the two children left the room, followed by Mademoiselle, while Mrs. Ostrowska busied herself about her domestic arrangements, for she never entrusted these duties to any one. After luncheon Marya and Mademoiselle drove off in the pony cart, through the beautiful Each morning a group of girls, selected by the mistress in charge, tramp off through the woods, baskets on arms, to receive from the kitchen of the dwÓr the supplies for the following day; and you may be sure this is no small matter, to fill fifty or one hundred hungry mouths. In the afternoons, after the day's work is finished, for these girls do all their own housekeeping in the maisonette, they gather berries or wood-flowers, which they present to their kind hostess, a delicate thoughtfulness which she fully appreciates, for these poor little orphaned ones have no other way in which to Everything being in readiness, Marya and her governess returned home through the woods, driving leisurely so as to enjoy the fresh odor of the firs. It was quite late when they reached the dwÓr; tea was being served on the veranda. Here they sought out Mrs. Ostrowska and reported their progress. Then Marya was whisked off by Mademoiselle to attend to her practising. The morning of the twenty-second dawned bright and warm. Immediately after breakfast, the great carriage pulled up at the porch, and all were soon installed within. The whips were cracked, and away the horses sped down the wide avenue of linden trees, through the great stone brama and out into the country road. They had not gone very far when the animals were reined in most emphatically, for the highway had become a horrible mass of Mrs. Ostrowska had found the journey very fatiguing, consequently she did not care to dress |