IV.
TIDESHEAD.
HOWEVER old and responsible Betty Leicester felt overnight, she seemedto return to early childhood in spite of herself next day. She must seethe old house again and chatter with Aunt Barbara about the things andpeople she remembered best. She looked all about the garden, and spentan hour in the kitchen talking to Serena and Letty while they workedthere, and then she went out to see Jonathan and a new acquaintancecalled Seth Pond, an awkward young man, who took occasion to tell Bettythat he had come from way up-country where there was plenty greener'n hewas. There were a great many interesting things to see and hear inJonathan's and Seth's domains, and Betty found the remains of one of herown old cubby-holes in the shed-chamber, and was touched to the heartwhen she found that it had never been cleared away. She had known somany places and so many people that it was almost startling to findTideshead looking and behaving exactly the same, while she had changedso much. The garden was a most lovely place, with its long, vine-coveredsummer-house, and just now all the roses were in bloom. Here was thatcherry-tree into which she and Mary Beck had climbed, decked in theproper black shawls and bonnets and black lace veils. But where coulddear Becky be all the morning? They had been famous cronies in that lastvisit, when they were eleven years old. Betty hurried into the house tofind her hat and tell Aunt Barbara where she was going.
Aunt Barbara took the matter into serious consideration. "Why, Mary willcome to see you this afternoon, I don't doubt, my dear, and perhaps youhad better wait until after dinner. They dine earlier than we, and areapt to be busy."
Betty turned away disappointed. She wished that she had thought to findMary just after breakfast in their friendly old fashion, but it was toolate now. She would sit down at the old secretary in the library andbegin a letter to papa.
"Dear Papa," she wrote, "Here I am at Tideshead, and I feel just as Iused when I was a little girl, but people treat me, even Mary Beck, asif I were grown up, and it is a little lonely just at first. Everythinglooks just the same, and Serena made me some hearts and rounds forsupper; wasn't she kind to remember? And they put on the old silver mugthat you used to have, for me to drink out of. And I like Aunt Barbarabest of the two aunts, after all, which is sure to make you laugh,though Aunt Mary is very kind and seems ill, so that I mean to be asnice to her as I possibly can. They seemed to think that you were goingoff just as far as you possibly could without going to a star, and itmade me miss you more than ever. Jonathan talked about politics, whetherI listened or not, and didn't like it when I said that you believed intariff reform. He really scolded and said the country would go to thedogs, and I was sorry that I knew so little about politics. Peopleexpect you to know so many new things with every inch you grow. Dearpapa, I wish that I were with you. Remember not to smoke too often, evenif you wish to very much; and please, dear papa, think very often thatI am your only dear child,
BETTY.
"P. S.--I miss you more because they are all so much older than we are,papa dear. Perhaps you will tell me about the tariff reform for a lessonletter when you can't think of anything else to write about. I have notseen Mary Beck yet, or any of the girls I used to know. Mary always cameright over before. I must tell you next time about such a funny, niceold woman who came most of the way with me in the cars, and what willyou think when I tell you the most important thing,--I had to come upriver on the packet! I wished and wished for you.
BETTY."
Dinner-time was very pleasant, and Aunt Mary, who first appeared then,was most kind and cheerful; but both the ladies took naps, after dinnerwas over and they had read their letters, so Betty went to her own room,meaning to put away her belongings; but Letty had done this beforehand,and the large room looked very comfortable and orderly. Aunt Barbara hadsmiled when another protest was timidly offered about the best bedroom,and told Betty that it was pleasant to have her just across the hall. "Iam well used to my housekeeping cares," added Aunt Barbara, with a funnylook across the table at her young niece; and Betty thought again, howmuch she liked this grandaunt.
The house was very quiet and she did not know exactly what to do, so shelooked about the guest-chamber.
There were some quaint-looking silhouettes on the walls of the room, andin a deep oval frame a fine sort of ornament which seemed to be made ofbeautiful grasses and leaves, all covered with glistening crystals. Thedust had crept in a little at one side. Betty remembered it well, andalways thought it very interesting. Then there were two old engravingsof Angelica Kauffmann and Madame Le Brun. Nothing pleased her so much,however, as papa's bright little shawl. It looked brighter than ever,and Letty had folded it and left it on the old chair.
Just then there came a timid rap or two with the old knocker on thehall-door. It was early for visitors, and the aunts were both in theirrooms. Betty went out to see what could be done about so exciting athing, and met quick-footed Letty, who had been close at hand in thedining-room.
"'Tis Miss Mary Beck come to call upon you, Miss Betty," said Letty,with an air of high festivity, and Betty went quickly downstairs. Shewas brimful of gladness to see Mary Beck, and went straight toward herin the shaded parlor to kiss her and tell her so.
Mary Beck was sitting on the edge of a chair, and was dressed as if shewere going to church, with a pair of tight shiny best gloves on andshiny new boots, which hurt her feet if Betty had only known it. Shewore a hat that looked too small for her head, and had a queer, long,waving bird-of-paradise feather in it, and a dress that was much too oldfor her, and of a cold, smooth, gray color, trimmed with a shade ofsatin that neither matched it nor made a contrast. She had grown to beeven taller than Betty, and she looked uncomfortable, and as if she hadbeen forced to come. That was a silly, limp shake of the hand with whichshe returned Betty's warm grasp. Oh dear, it was evidently a dreadfulthing to go to make a call! It had been an anxious, discouragedgetting-ready, and Betty thought of the short, red-cheeked, friendlylittle Becky whom she used to play with, and was grieved to the heart.But she bravely pushed a chair close to the guest and sat down. Shecould not get over the old feeling of affection.
"I thought you would be over here long ago. I ought to have gone to seeyou. Why, you're more grown up than I am; isn't it too bad?" said Betty,feeling afraid that one or the other of them might cry, they were bothblushing so deeply and the occasion was so solemn.
"Oh, do let's play in the shed-chamber all day to-morrow!"
And then they both laughed as hard as they could, and there was the dearold Mary Beck after all, and a tough bit of ice was forever broken.
Betty threw open the parlor blinds, regardless of Serena's feelingsabout flies, and the two friends spent a delightful hour together. Thecall ended in Mary's being urged to go home to take off her best gownand put on an every-day one, and away they went afterward for a longwalk.
"What are the girls doing?" asked Betty, as if she considered herself amember already of this branch of the great secret society of girls.
"Oh, nothing; we hardly ever do anything," answered Mary Beck, with asurprised and uneasy glance. "It is so slow in Tideshead, everybodysays."
"I suppose it is slow anywhere if we don't do anything about it,"laughed Betty, so good-naturedly that Mary laughed too. "I like to playout-of-doors just as well as ever I did, don't you?"
Mary Beck gave a somewhat doubtful answer. She had dreaded thisceremonious call. She could not quite understand why Betty Leicester,who had traveled abroad and done so many things and had, as people say,such unusual advantages, should seem the same as ever, and only wearthat plain, comfortable-looking little gingham dress.
"When my other big trunk comes there are some presents I brought overfor you," confessed Betty shyly. "I have had to keep one of them a longtime because papa has always been saying every year that we were sure tocome to Tideshead, and then we haven't after all."
"He has been here two or three times," said Mary. "I s
aw him go by and Iwanted to run out and ask him about you, but I was afraid to"--
"Afraid of papa? What a funny thing! You never would be if you reallyknew him," exclaimed Betty, with delighted assurance. She laughedheartily and stopped to lean against a stone wall, and gave Mary Beck alittle push which was meant to express a great deal of affection andamusement. Then she forgot everything in looking at the beautiful viewacross the farms and the river and toward the great hills and mountainsbeyond.
"I knew you would think it was pretty here," said Mary. "I have alwaysthought that when you came back I would bring you here first. I liked tocall this our tree," she said shyly, looking up into the great oakbranches. "It seems so strange to be here with you, at last, after allthe times I have thought about it"--
Betty was touched by this bit of real sentiment. She was thankful fromthat moment that she was going to spend most of the summer in Tideshead.Here was the best of good things,--a real friend, who had been waitingfor her all the time.