CHAPTER XII.
HOME AGAIN
Meanwhile in Lloydsboro Valley the summer had slipped slowly by. Locustseemed strangely quiet with the great front gates locked, and never anysound of wheels or voices coming down the avenue. Judge Moore's place wasclosed also, and Tanglewood, just across the way, had been opened only afew weeks in the spring. So birds and squirrels held undisputed possessionof that part of the Valley, and the grass grew long and the vines climbedhigh, and often the soft whisper of the leaves was the only sound to beheard.
But in the shady beech grove, next the churchyard, and across the avenuefrom Mrs. MacIntyre's, the noise of hammer and saw and trowel had gone onunceasingly, until at last the new home was ready for its occupants. Thefamily did not have far to move to "The Beeches"; only over the stile fromthe quaint green-roofed cottage next door, where they had spent thesummer.
Allison, Kitty, and Elise climbed back and forth over the stile, theirarms full of their particular treasures, which they could not trust to themoving-vans. All the week that Betty and Lloyd were tossing out on theocean, they were flitting about the new house, growing accustomed to itsunfamiliar corners. By the time the _Majestic_ steamed into the New Yorkharbour, they were as much at home in their new surroundings as if theyhad always lived there. The tent was pitched on the lawn, the large familyof dolls was brought out under the trees, and the games, good times, andcamp-fire cooking went on as if they had never been interrupted for aninstant by the topsy-turvy work of moving.
"Whose day is it for the pony-cart?" asked Mrs. Walton, coming out on thesteps one morning.
"It was mine," answered Kitty, speaking up from the hammock, where sheswung, half in, half out, watching a colony of ants crawling along theground underneath. "But I traded my turn to Elise, for her biggest paperboy doll."
"And I traded my turn to Allison, if she would let me use all the purpleand yellow paint I want in her paint-box, while I am making my PrincessPansy's ball dress," said Elise.
Mrs. Walton smiled at the transfer of rights. The little girls had anarrangement by which they took turns in using the cart certain days in theweek, when Ranald did not want to ride his Filipino pony.
"Whoever has it to-day may do an errand for me," Mrs. Walton said, adding,as she turned toward the house, "Do you know that Lloyd and Betty arecoming on the three o'clock train this afternoon?"
"Then I don't want the pony-cart," exclaimed Allison, quickly. "I'm goingdown to the depot to meet them."
The depot was in sight of The Beeches, not more than three minutes' walkdistant.
"Can't go back on your trade!" sang out Elise. "Can't go back on yourtrade!"
"Oh, you take it, Elise," coaxed Allison. "It's my regular turn to-morrow.I'll make some fudge in the morning, if you will."
Elise considered a moment. "Well," she said, finally, "I'll let you offfrom your trade if Kitty will let me off from mine."
"No, _sir!_" answered Kitty. "A trade's a trade. I want that paper boydoll."
"But it's your regular turn," coaxed Elise, "and I'd much rather go downto the depot to meet the girls than go riding."
"So would I," said Kitty, spurring the procession of ants to faster speedwith her slipper toe. Then she sat up and considered the matter a moment.
"Oh, well," she said, presently, "I don't care, after all. If it willoblige you any I'll let you off, and take the pony myself."
"Oh, thank you, sister," cried Elise.
"They'll only be at the depot a few minutes," continued the wily Kitty."So I'll drive down to meet them in style in the cart, and then I'll go upto Locust with them, beside the carriage, and hear all about the tripfirst of anybody."
"I wish I'd thought of that," said Elise, a shade of disappointment in herbig dark eyes.
"I'll tell you," proposed Allison, enthusiastically, "We'll _all_ go downin the pony-cart to meet them together. That would be the nicest way todo."
"Oh!" was Kitty's cool reply, "I had thought of going by for Katy orCorinne." Then, seeing the disappointment in the faces opposite, sheadded, "But maybe I might change my mind. Have you got anything to tradefor a chance to go?"
This transfer of possessions which they carried on was like a continuousgame, of which they never tired, because of its endless variety. It was asource of great amusement to the older members of the family.
"It is a mystery to me," said Miss Allison, "how they manage to keep trackof their property, and remember who is the owner. I have known a doll or adish to change hands half a dozen times in the course of a forenoon."
Elise promptly offered the paper boy doll again, which was promptlyaccepted. Allison had nothing to offer which Kitty considered equivalentto a seat in the cart, but by a roundabout transfer the trade was finallymade. Allison gave Elise the amount of purple and yellow paint she neededfor the Princess Pansy's ball gown, in return for which Elise gave her apiece of spangled gauze which Kitty had long had an eye upon. Allison inturn handed the gauze to Kitty for her right to a seat in the pony-cart,and the affair was thus happily settled to the satisfaction of allparties.
"It _isn't_ that we are selfish with each other," Allison had retorted,indignantly, one day when Corinne remarked that she didn't see how sisterswho loved each other could be so particular about everything. "It's onlywith our toys and the cart that we do that way. It's a kind of game thatwe've played always, and _we_ think it's lots of fun."
So it happened that that afternoon, when the train stopped at LloydsboroValley, the first thing the Little Colonel saw was the pony-cart drawnclose to the platform. Then three little girls in white dresses and freshribbons, smiling broadly under their big flower-wreathed hats, sprang outto give them a warm welcome home, with enthusiastic hugs and kisses.
Hero's turn came next. Released from his long, tiresome confinement in thebaggage-car, he came bounding into their midst, almost upsetting theLittle Colonel in his joy at having his freedom again. He put out hisgreat paw to each of the little girls in turn as Lloyd bade him shakehands with his new neighbours, but he growled suspiciously when Walkercame up and laid black fingers upon him. He had never seen a coloured manbefore.
It was Betty's first meeting with the Walton girls. She had looked forwardto it eagerly, first because they were the daughters of a man whom herlittle hero-loving heart honoured as one of the greatest generals of thearmy, who had given his life to his country, and died bravely in itsservice, and secondly because Lloyd's letters the winter before had beenfull of their sayings and doings. Mrs. Sherman, too, had told her manythings of their life in Manila, and she felt that children who had suchunusual experiences could not fail to be interesting. There was a thirdreason, however, that she scanned each face so closely. She had given themparts in the new play, and she was wondering how well they would fit thoseparts.
They in turn cast many inquiring glances at Betty, for they had heard allabout this little song-bird that had been taken away from the Cuckoo'sNest. They had read her poem on "Night," which was published in a realpaper, and they could not help looking upon her with a deep feeling ofrespect, tinged a little with awe, that a twelve-year-old girl could writeverses good enough to be published. They had heard Keith's enthusiasticpraises of her.
"Betty's a brick!" he had said, telling of several incidents of the houseparty, especially the picnic at the old mill, when she had gone so far tokeep her "sacred promise." "She's the very nicest girl I know," he hadadded, emphatically, and that was high praise, coming from the particularKeith, who judged all girls by the standard of his mother.
As soon as the trunks were attended to, Mr. Sherman led the way to thecarriage, waiting on the other side of the platform. Hero was given aplace beside Walker, and although he sprang up obediently when he wasbidden, he eyed his companion suspiciously all the way. The pony-carttrundled along beside the carriage, the girls calling back and forth toeach other, above the rattle of the wheels.
"Oh, isn't Hero the loveliest dog that ever was! But you ought to see ourpuppy--the cutest thi
ng--nothing but a bunch of soft, woozy curls." ..."We're in the new house now, you must come over to-morrow." ... "Mother isgoing to take us all camping soon. You are invited, too." This from thepony-cart in high-pitched voices in different keys.
"Oh, I've had a perfectly lovely time, and I've brought you all somethingin my trunk. And say, girls, Betty is writing a play for the Red Crossentertainment. There's a witch in it, Kitty, and lots of pretty costumes,Allison. And, oh, deah, I'm so glad to get home I don't know what to dofirst!" This from the carriage.
The great entrance gates were unlocked now, the lawn smoothly cut, thegreen lace-work of vines trimly trained around the high white pillars ofthe porches. The pony-cart turned back at the gate, and the carriage droveslowly up the avenue alone. The mellow sunlight of the warm Septemberafternoon filtered down like gold, through the trees arching overhead.
"'Oh, the sun shines bright on my old Kentucky home,'" sang Lloyd, softly,leaning out of the carriage to wave her hand to Mom Beck, who, in whitestof aprons and gayest of head bandanas, stood smiling and curtseying on thesteps. The good old black face beamed with happiness as she cried, "Heahcomes my baby, an' li'l' Miss Betty, too, bless her soul an' body!"
Around the house came May Lily and a tribe of little pickaninnies, whofell back at sight of Hero leaping out of the carriage. He was the largestdog they had ever seen. Lloyd called them all around her and made themeach shake hands with the astonished St. Bernard, who did not seem torelish this part of his introduction to Kentucky.
"He'll soon get used to you," said the Little Colonel. "May Lily, you runtell Aunt Cindy to give you a cooky or a piece of chicken for him to eat.Henry Clay, you bring a pan of watah. If you all fly around and wait onhim right good, he'll like you lots bettah."
Leaving Lloyd to offer Hero the hospitality of Locust in the midst of herlittle black admirers, Betty slowly followed her godmother up the widestairs.
"You're to have the same white and gold room again, dear," said Mrs.Sherman, peeping in as she passed the door. "I see that it is all inreadiness. So walk in and take possession."
Betty was glad that she was alone, those first few minutes, the joy of thehome-coming was so keen. Going in, she shut the door and gave a swiftglance all around, from the dark polished floor, with its white angorarugs, to the filmy white curtains at the open casement windows. Everythingwas just as she had seen it last,--the dear little white dressing-table,with its crystal candlesticks, that always made her think of twistedicicles; the little heart-shaped pincushion and all the dainty toiletarticles of ivory and gold; the pictures on the wall; the freshly gatheredplumes of goldenrod in the crystal bowl on the mantel. She stood a moment,looking out of the open window, and thinking of the year that had gone bysince she last stood in that room. Many a long and perilous mile she hadtravelled, but here she was back in safety, and instead of bandaged eyesand the horror of blindness hovering over her, she was able to look out onthe beautiful world with strong, far-seeing sight.
The drudgery of the Cuckoo's Nest was far behind her now, and the barelittle room under the eaves. Henceforth this was to be her home. Sheremembered the day in the church when her godmother's invitation to thehouse party reached her, and just as she had knelt then in front of thenarrow, bench-like altar, she knelt now, beside the little white bed.Now, as then, the late afternoon sun streamed across her brown curls andshining face, and "_Thank you, dear God_," came in the same gratefulwhisper from the depths of the same glad little heart.
"Betty! Betty!" called Lloyd, under her window. "Come and take a run overthe place. I want to show Hero his new home."
Tired of sitting still so long on the cars, Betty was glad to join in therace over the smooth lawn and green meadows. Out in the pasture, Tarbabywaited by the bars. The grapevine swing in the mulberry-tree, every nookand corner where the guests of the house party had romped and played thesummer before, seemed to hold a special greeting for them, and every footof ground in old Locust seemed dearer for their long absence.
The next morning, when Tarbaby was led around for Lloyd to take her usualride, both girls gave a cry of delight, for another pony followed close athis heels. It was the one that had been kept for Betty's use during thehouse party.
"It is Lad!" called the Little Colonel, excitedly. "Oh, Papa Jack! Is hegoin' to stay heah all the time?"
"Yes, he belongs here now," answered Mr. Sherman. "I want both my littlegirls to be well mounted, and to ride every day."
He motioned to a card hanging from Lad's bridle, and, leaning over, Lloydread aloud, "For Betty from Papa Jack."
Betty could hardly realise her good fortune.
"Is he really mine?" she insisted, "the same as Tarbaby is Lloyd's?"
"Really yours, and just the same," answered Mr. Sherman, holding out hishand to help her mount.
She tried to thank him, tried to tell him how happy the gift had made her,but words could not measure either her gratitude or her pleasure. He readthem both, however, in her happy face. As he swung her into the saddle,she leaned forward, saying, "I want to whisper something in your ear, Mr.Sherman." As he bent his head she whispered, "Thank you for writing PapaJack on the card. That made me happier than anything else."
"That is what I want you to call me always now, my little daughter," heanswered, kissing her lightly on the cheek. "Locust is your home now, andyou belong to all of us. Your godmother, the Little Colonel, and I eachclaim a share."
"What makes you so quiet?" asked Lloyd, as they rode on down the avenue.
"I was thinking of the way Joyce's fairy tale ended," said Betty. "'So theprince came into his kingdom, the kingdom of loving hearts and gentlehands.' Only this time it's the princess who's come into her kingdom."
"What do you mean?" asked Lloyd, with a puzzled look.
"Oh, it's only some of my foolishness," said Betty, looking back over hershoulder with a laugh. "I'm just so glad that I'm alive, and so glad thatI am me, and so happy because everybody is so heavenly kind to me, that Iwouldn't change places with the proudest princess that ever sat on athrone."
"Then come on, and let's race to the post-office," cried Lloyd, dashingoff, with Hero bounding along beside her.
From the post-office they rode to The Beeches, where Allison was cookingsomething over the camp-fire, beside the tent on the lawn.
It proved to be candy, and she waved a sticky spoon in welcome. Mrs.Walton was in a hammock, near by, her mending basket beside her, and Kittyand Elise on the grass at her feet, watching the molasses bubble up in thekettle. Betty felt a little shy at first, for this was her first meetingwith the General's wife, and she wished that the girls would not insist onhaving an immediate outline of the play. It had seemed very fine indeed toher when she read it aloud to herself, or repeated it to Lloyd. It had notseemed a very childish thing to her even when she read it to hergodmother. But she shrank from Mrs. Walton's criticism. It was with manyblushes that she began. Afterward she wondered why she should have beentimid about it. Mrs. Walton applauded it so heartily, and entered intoplans for making the entertainment a success as enthusiastically as any ofthe girls.
"I bid to be witch!" cried Kitty, when Betty had finished.
"I'd like to be the queen, if you don't care," said Allison, "for I am thelargest, and I'd rather act with Rob than the other boys. But it doesn'tmake any difference. I'll be anything you want me to."
"That's the way Betty planned it," said Lloyd. "I'm to be the captiveprincess, and Keith will be my brother whom the witch changes into a dog.That's Hero, of co'se. Malcolm will be the knight who rescues me. RobMoore will be king, and Elise the queen of the fairies, and Ranald theogah."
"Ranald said last night that he wouldn't be in the play if he had to learna lot of foolishness to speak, or if he couldn't be disguised so thatnobody would know him," said Kitty. "He'll help any other way, fixing thestage and the red lights and all that, but the Captain has a dread ofmaking himself appear ridiculous. Now _I_ don't. I'd rather have the funnyparts than the high and mighty on
es."
"He might be Frog-eye-Fearsome," suggested Betty. "Then he wouldn't haveanything to do but drag the prince and princess across the stage to theogre's tower, and the costume could be so hideous that no one could tellwhether a human or a hobgoblin was inside of it."
"Who'll buy all the balloons for the fairies, and make our spangledwings?" asked Elise. "Oh, I know," she cried, instantly answering her ownquestion. "I'll tell Aunt Elise all about it, and I know that she'llhelp."
"How will you go all the way to the seashore to tell her?" asked Kitty.
"She isn't at the seashore," answered Elise, with an air of triumph. "Shecame back from Narragansett Pier last night. Didn't she, mamma? And sheand Malcolm and Keith are coming out to grandmother's this afternoon asstraight as the train can carry them, you might know. They always do,first thing. Don't they, mamma?"
Mrs. Walton nodded yes, then said: "Suppose you bring the play down thisafternoon, Betty. Ask your mother to come too, Lloyd, and we'll read itout under the trees. Now are all the characters decided upon?"
"All but the ogre," said Betty.
"Joe Clark is the very one for that," exclaimed Lloyd. "He is head andshouldahs tallah than all the othah boys, although he is only fifteen, andhis voice is so deep and gruff it sounds as if it came out of the cellah.We can stop and ask him if he'll take the part."
"Invite him to come down to the reading of the play, too," said Mrs.Walton. "I'll look for you all promptly at four."
Betty almost lost her courage that afternoon when she saw the large groupwaiting for her under the beech-trees on Mrs. Walton's lawn. Mrs.MacIntyre was there, fresh and dainty as Betty always remembered her, withthe sunshine flickering softly through the leaves on her beautiful whitehair. Miss Allison, who, in the children's opinion, knew everything, satbeside her, and worst of all, the younger Mrs. MacIntyre was there;Malcolm's and Keith's mother, whom Betty had never seen before, but ofwhom she had heard glowing descriptions from her admiring sons.
Lloyd pointed her out to Betty as they drove in at the gate. "See, thereshe is, in that lovely pink organdy. Wouldn't you love to look like her? Iwould. She's like a queen."
Betty sank back, faint with embarrassment. "Oh, godmother!" she whispered."I know I can't read it before all those people. It will choke me. There'sat least a dozen, and some of them are strangers."
Mrs. Sherman smiled, encouragingly. "There's nothing to be afraid of,dear. Your play is beautiful, in my opinion, and every one there willagree with me when they've all heard it. Go on and do your best and makeus all proud of you."
There was no time to hesitate. Keith was already swinging on the carriagesteps to welcome them, and Malcolm and Ranald were bringing out morechairs to make places for them with the group under the beeches. Nobodymentioned the play for some time. The older people were busy questioningMrs. Sherman about her summer abroad, and Malcolm and Keith had much totell the others of their vacation at the seashore; of polo and parties andping-pong, and several pranks that sent the children into shrieks oflaughter.
In the midst of the hum of conversation Betty's heart almost stood still.Mrs. Walton was calling the company to order. Coming forward, she ledBetty to a chair in the centre of the circle, and asked her to begin. Itwas with hands that trembled visibly that Betty opened her note-book andbegan to read "The Rescue of the Princess Winsome."