It was indeed a beautiful piece of work, and Lily’s “surprise” was a great success. The negro girl had never before been so praised and thanked, and when Mr. and Mrs. Arnold were called to come and admire “Lily’s basket,” and when they also said that it was the finest basket they had ever seen, Lily was as happy as it was possible for a girl to be.
“Who taught you, Lily?” questioned Mrs. Arnold, and Lily told of the old negroes at the plantation from which she had fled, who were expert basket makers.
“I hears tell dey learned ter make baskets ’fore dey was fetch to dis country,” she said, and Mr. Arnold remembered having seen feather baskets that were brought from Africa.
“And that’s what you wanted feathers for; and that’s what you have been doing when I wondered where you were!” Berry exclaimed, and she was now eager to learn how to make just such a basket, and Lily promised to at once begin gathering more feathers.
The basket henceforth was one of Berry’s chief treasures, and years afterward, in her New England home, she would often show it and tell of Lily’s “feather-bag.”
As the days went on Berry was constantly discovering how many things Lily knew.
“Not the same things I know,” she explained to her mother, “but wonderful things. Lily can make all sorts of things out of tiny twigs; she can make dolls and birds; long-legged cranes, that look just like those that Father and I have seen along the river.” And Lily could indeed twist the pliant willow twigs into many shapes, over which Berry would laugh delightedly.
The spring days went rapidly by, and it was now months since the Arnolds had received any word from their soldier son, Francis, and visits to the post-box on the Corinth road only brought disappointment. One morning, toward the end of March, after her unfailing daily visit to the clump of Judas-trees, Berry decided to visit the box and then to go on to the Braggs’ cabin and see if there was any sign of the witch’s promise of Mollie’s speedy return coming true.
Much to Berry’s surprise there was something in the box. But she quickly discovered that it was not the hoped-for letter, for her hand had closed on a smooth roll of birch-bark. Berry drew it out and looked at it wonderingly. There were a number of queerly-shaped letters traced on its smooth surface.