BETTY UNDERSTANDS
Betty hurried back and began a hasty inspection of the rooms. She
recollected seeing Libbie upstairs at the door of Washington's room
the last time she had definitely noticed her, and she ran upstairs to
see if she might not be there.
No Libbie was in any of the rooms.
Downstairs she searched hurriedly, peeping under people's elbows,
trying not to annoy others and yet to make a thorough hunt in a short
time so as not to keep the others waiting. Then in the music room, or
East Parlor, as it is often called, she found the truant, gazing with
rapt eyes at the quaint old harpsichord which had belonged to Nellie
Custis.
"Every one is waiting for you," announced Betty, pulling her gently
by the sleeve. "Come on, Libbie, we're all going. We've seen the
whole house."
Libbie followed in a sort of daze, and when they rejoined the others
she seemed to be still in a brown study.
"For goodness sake," prodded Bobby impatiently, "what were you doing
back there? We nearly went off and left you. Where did you find her,
Betty?"
"I was in the music room," announced Libbie with dignity. "I wanted
to see the harpsichord. Say, girls, did you know Washington gave that
to Nellie Custis when she was married? He wore his uniform when he
gave her away, and--"
"Well, for pity's sake!" Bobby's disgust was ludicrous. "Trust
Libbie to dig up a romance wherever she goes. What else did you find
connected with weddings, Lib?"
Libbie was inclined to be ruffled, but Mrs. Littell soothed the
troubled waters by telling them that the old barn, which they had
reached by this time, was built in 1733 by Washington's father and
that the bricks were supposed to have been imported from England.
The beautiful old formal garden further mellowed their tempers, for
it was impossible to say sharp things walking along the very paths
which George Washington had often trod and between the rows of box
brushed by the silken skirts of Mrs. Washington. Where her rose
bushes used to be are planted others, and Mrs. Littell assured the
girls that it was one of the great pleasures of the First Lady of the
Land to gather rose leaves for her potpourri jars and to make a
perfumed unguent for which she was famous among her friends.
"She was a wonderful housekeeper," added Mrs. Littell, smiling at
Libbie, whose momentary resentment had quickly faded, "and a very
fine manager. We are told that she was thoroughly domestic in her
tastes and that she made her husband ideally happy."
Presently Carter came with a hamper of luncheon and their appetites
did full justice to Mammy Lou's dainties. Betty wondered, sitting on
the grass, the Potomac flowing lazily several feet below, whether she
was dreaming and might not wake up to find herself at Bramble Farm
with Mr. Peabody scolding vigorously because something had not gone
to suit him. She often had this odd feeling that her present
happiness could not be real.
This, too, brought the thought of her uncle to her mind, and again
she wondered if she would ever hear from him--if something dreadful
had not happened to him, leaving her almost as much alone in the
world as Bob Henderson. She shivered a little, then resolutely threw
herself into the chatter of the other girls and soon forgot all but
the present pleasure and excitement.
After rambling about the grounds another hour or so, the party from
Fairfield was ready to go, and they all found it restful to lean back
in the comfortable car and spin back to the city.
"If you're not too tired I think we might drive down Pennsylvania
Avenue," suggested Mrs. Littell. "Our guests haven't seen the White
House yet, have they?"
Neither Betty nor Libbie had, and as the car turned into the famous
thoroughfare both girls sat up alertly so as not to miss a single
sight of interest. Carter slowed down as they approached a high iron
fence, and at the first glimpse of the white mansion separated from
the fence and street by a wide stretch of lawn, Libbie shouted
joyfully.
"The White House!"
"Well, you needn't tell everybody," cautioned Bobby. "Think of the
weddings they've held in there, Libbie!"
"I imagine any one who has ever seen a picture of the White House
recognizes it instantly," said Betty, fearing a resumption of
cousinly hostilities. "How beautiful the grounds are."
"You must go through it some day soon," said Mrs. Littell. "And now
we'll drive to the Capitol. Day after to-morrow would be a good time
for you to take the girls to the Capitol, Bobby."
The Capitol reminded Libbie of a pin tray she had at home, and awoke
recollection in Betty's mind of a bronze plaque that had been one of
Mrs. Arnold's treasures in the stiff little parlor of the Pineville
house. All good Americans know the White House and the Capitol long
before they make a pilgrimage to Washington.
On their arrival at Fairfields they found Mr. Littell playing
solitaire, and something in his undisguised relief at seeing them
made Betty wonder if time did not hang heavily on his hands.
After dinner Bobby proposed that they turn on the phonograph and
have a little dance among themselves.
"Oh, that will be fine!" cried Betty.
"Then you can dance?"
"A little--mother taught me."
So the girls danced and had a good time generally for an hour or
more, with Mr. and Mrs. Littell looking on. Then Betty sank down on
the arm of Mr. Littell's chair.
"I've been thinking of something," she half whispered. "Do you like
to play checkers? If you do, I know how."
Maybe Mr. Littell understood that she was doing it largely to keep
him company. But he said nothing, and they played checkers for nearly
two hours. Betty was a fairly good player and managed to land several
victories.
"With a little more practice you'll make a very good player,"
declared Mr. Littell. "I appreciate your staying to play with a
cripple like me," he added gratefully. "Does your Uncle Dick play?"
"I don't really know," replied the girl, and now her face clouded
for an instant. Oh, why didn't she hear from Uncle Dick?
The next few days were filled with sightseeing trips. Betty was kept
too busy to have much time to worry, which was fortunate, for no word
came from her uncle and no word reached her from Bob Henderson. The
Guerins and the Benders wrote to her, and each letter mentioned the
fact that Bob had sent a postal from Washington, but that no later
word had come from him.
"I met Peabody on the road yesterday," ran a postscript to Norma
Guerin's letter, written by her doctor father. "He hinted darkly that
Bob had done something that might land him in jail, but I couldn't
force out of him what fearful thing Bob had done. I hope the lad
hasn't been rash, for Peabody never forgives a wrong, real or fancied."
Betty knew that the farmer's action had to do with the unrecorded
deed, but she did not feel that she should make any disclosures in
that connection. Of Bob's innocence she was sure, and time would
certainly clear him of any implication.
The girls visited the Capitol, seeing the great bronze doors that
are nineteen feet high and weight ten tons. Betty was fascinated by
the eight panels, and studied them till the others threatened to
leave her there over night and call for her in the morning. Then she
consented to make the tour of the three buildings. But the historical
paintings again held her spellbound. When she reached the Senate
chamber, which was empty, except for a page or two, the Senate not
being in session, she dropped into a gallery seat and tried to
imagine the famous scenes enacted there. They spent the better part
of a day at the Capitol, and saw practically everything in the
buildings. They were so tired that night that Libbie went to sleep
over her dessert, and Betty dreamed all night of defending the city
with a shotgun from the great gilded dome. But she and Libbie agreed
that they would not have missed it for anything.