Ye are yer mother's darter, after all.

Shall I give ye a swing now, before I go; or are ye too big to swing!" "I--don't--know!" said Hildegarde, eying the swing wistfully.

"Am I too big, I wonder ?" "Yer ma warn't, when she was here three weeks ago!" said the farmer.

"She just sot heer and took a good solid swing, for the sake of old times, she said." "Then I will take one for the sake of new times!" cried Hilda, running to the swing and seating herself on its broad, roomy seat.

"For the sake of this new time, which I know is going to be a happy one, give me three _good_ pushes, please, Farmer Hartley, and then I can take care of myself." One! two! three! up goes Queen Hildegarde, up and up, among the dusty, cobwebby sunbeams, which settle like a crown upon her fair head.