BETTY'S TEMPTATION
It was about an hour later when Betty, having washed and put away the
luncheon dishes, and settled Jack with his story book and drawing
materials, ran lightly down the three long flights of stairs to the
Hamiltons' apartment. In one hand she carried Mrs. Hamilton's plate and
napkin, and in the other a small tin money box, which jingled at every
step. At the Hamiltons' front door she paused, and rather timidly rang
the bell. The door was opened by the same girl who had brought the
eclairs.
"I came to bring back the plate," Betty explained, "and will you please
tell Miss Winifred Hamilton that my little brother and I enjoyed the
cakes very much."
"Wouldn't you like to come in and speak to her yourself?" the girl asked
pleasantly; "she's right here."
She moved aside as she spoke, and there, sure enough, was Winifred
standing smiling in the parlor door.
"Yes, do come in," said the little girl hospitably. "Mother's out, but I
stayed at home to make a dress for one of my children. They're really my
_dolls_, you know," she added, smiling at Betty's look of bewilderment,
"but I always call them my children. I'm so very fond of them, you see,
and they do seem something like real children. Come in and I'll show
them to you."
There was no declining this tempting invitation, and Betty was soon
making the acquaintance of Winifred's family, and being introduced
respectively to Lord Fauntleroy, Rose-Florence, Violet-May, Lily-Bell,
and Miss Mollie.
"You see, when my father and mother were away in California I used to be
alone a good deal," Winifred explained, "and so if it hadn't been for
the children I should have been rather lonely. I lived with Uncle Will
and Aunt Estelle then, and Aunt Estelle is a very busy lady and has to
go out a good deal. My mother hardly ever goes out without me, and I
don't have nearly so much time to devote to the children as I used, but
I shouldn't like to have them feel neglected, so sometimes I stay at
home on purpose to look after them a little."
"How old are you?" Betty inquired. To her this conversation seemed
extremely childish. She had never had much time in her busy little life
to care for dolls, Jack having claimed all her thought and attention.
"I shall be ten next July, so as it's April now, father says I'm nine
and three-quarters. Father's very fond of joking, and so is Uncle Will."
"You go to school, don't you?" Betty asked.
"Yes, I go to Miss Lothrop's. I was coming from school when I met you
to-day. Mother almost always takes me and comes for me herself, because
we have only Lizzie, and she has a great deal to do."
"We don't keep any girl at all now," said Betty, "and so I can't go to
school, because there would be nobody to take care of Jack. We did keep
a girl last year, but some of mother's pupils gave up, and she couldn't
get any new ones, so we had to let her go. Mother gives us our lessons
every afternoon when she comes home, and we study in the mornings by
ourselves."
"Is your mother a teacher?" Winifred inquired with interest.
"Yes, she gives music lessons, and she plays beautifully too. We have a
piano, because Jack loves music so, and mother plays to him almost
every evening."
"I guess cripples always like music," said Winifred reflectively. "Mr.
Bradford had a lovely music box; it played twelve tunes."
"Who is Mr. Bradford?"
"He was a crippled gentleman I used to know. He was very kind, and I
loved him very much. I used to read to him, and he liked it. He died
last winter."
"Some cripples are quite strong in other ways, you know," Betty hastened
to explain. Winifred's remark about dying had made her vaguely
uncomfortable. "Jack isn't nearly so delicate as he used to be. I think
if he could only get out in the fresh air sometimes he would be ever so
much better."
"Doesn't he ever go out?"
"No. You see, he can't walk at all, and he's too heavy to carry far.
It's awfully hard for him never to see anything but chimneys. Our
apartment is in the rear, so he can't even see the trolley cars."
"Why don't you take him for a drive sometimes?" Winifred asked
sympathetically.
Betty's eyes sparkled.
"That's just what I'm going to do," she said triumphantly. "I never
thought of it till to-day, but first the woman at the baker's spoke of
it, and then Jack said he wished he could see Central Park. The day
after to-morrow will be his birthday, and I'm going to hire a carriage
and take him for a nice drive. I'm going to pay for it out of my own
money too; it's to be my birthday present."
"That will be nice," said Winifred in a tone of satisfaction. "Does he
know about it?"
"Yes, and he's so pleased. I'm going right over to the livery stable now
to ask how much it will cost. It couldn't be more than a dollar, do you
think it could?"
Winifred, whose ideas on the subject were quite as vague as Betty's own,
and to whom a dollar appeared a rather large sum, replied that she was
sure it couldn't, and after a little more conversation Betty departed on
her errand.
With a beating heart the little girl crossed the street and entered the
office of the livery stable on the opposite corner. A man was writing at
a desk, but he looked up at her entrance, and laid down his pen.
"Well, miss, what can I do for you?" he inquired politely, as Betty
paused, uncertain in just what words to put her request. "Do you want a
cab?"
"No, thank you," said Betty, "at least not to-day, but I think I shall
want one the day after to-morrow. Would you please tell me how much it
would cost to hire a carriage to take us to Central Park?"
The man glanced at a big book which lay open on the desk before him.
"Central Park," he repeated, beginning to turn over the pages, "that
would mean an afternoon drive, of course. Our regular charge for an
afternoon drive is five dollars."
"Five dollars!" Betty gave a little gasp. "I didn't know it would be so
expensive," she said, and without another word she turned and walked
quickly out of the office.
But once outside she did not hurry. Very slowly she recrossed the
street, entered at the familiar door, and began climbing the long
flights of stairs. At the top of the first flight she was stopped by her
new friend Winifred.
"I was watching for you," Winifred explained; "I wanted to know if it
was all right about the carriage. Oh, what's the matter? Didn't you get
it, after all?"
Betty shook her head; she could not speak just then, but all the bright
look of pride and happiness had gone out of her face.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Winifred sympathetically. "Were the carriages
all engaged for the day after to-morrow? Perhaps you could get one at
some other stable."
"It isn't that," said Betty, trying hard to steady the quiver in her
voice, "but--but they were very expensive--much more expensive than I
thought. We couldn't possibly have one."
"How much are they?" Winifred inquired with interest.
"Five dollars, the man said."
"Oh!" and Winifred's eyes opened wide in astonishment; "that is a great
deal of money. Uncle Will gave me a five-dollar gold-piece for Easter,
and we thought it was very good of him. But if your little brother wants
to go so very much, and if it's his birthday, don't you think your
mother might possibly let you have the money?"
But Betty shook her head decidedly. "She couldn't possibly," she said,
"I know she couldn't." And then all at once her forced composure gave
way, and she burst into tears.
"Oh, he'll be so disappointed, so dreadfully disappointed," she sobbed.
"Oh, I wish I had never said anything about it to him, but I was so
sure a dollar would be enough, and I promised him--I promised him."
It was some few minutes later when Betty, still with red eyes, but
otherwise looking much as usual, reached the top landing and paused for
a moment outside their own door. Jack was so happy; how could she tell
him that their cherished plan must be given up? She gave a long sigh,
and drawing the door-key from her pocket, was in the act of fitting it
in the lock when she heard the sound of footsteps and rustling skirts
just behind her, and, turning in surprise, caught sight of a rather
stout, florid lady coming up the stairs.
"This is the top floor, isn't it?" the stranger inquired rather
breathlessly, as she reached the landing. She was not accustomed to
climbing stairs, and did not enjoy it.
"Yes," said Betty politely.
"Well, I'm thankful to hear it, I'm sure. I never had such a climb in my
life. It's an outrage not to have elevators in these high buildings. Can
you tell me which is Mrs. Randall's apartment?"
"It's this one," said Betty, looking very much surprised, for she was
sure she had never seen the lady before, "but Mrs. Randall is out. I'm
her little girl; I could take any message."
The lady drew a step back, and stood regarding Betty with keen, though
kindly scrutiny.
"So you are Mrs. Randall's little girl," she said; "I remember she told
me she had children. Well, I suppose I shall have to leave my message
with you, though I am sorry not to see her myself, if only to say
good-bye."
"Won't you come in?" said Betty. "Mother will be at home pretty soon, I
think; she generally gets back by four."
"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly spare the time; my carriage is waiting, and
I have no end of things to attend to this afternoon. Will you tell your
mother that Mrs. Martin called? Mrs. Henry Martin. Perhaps you may have
heard her speak of me."
"Oh, yes," said Betty eagerly; "mother gives music lessons to your two
little boys."
"Yes, to be sure she does, and that is the very thing I wanted to see
her about. My husband has suddenly decided to go to Europe on business,
and we are all going with him. It was arranged only last evening, and we
sail next Saturday. I hate to take the children off like this right in
the middle of the quarter, and that is why I wanted to come and see your
mother about it rather than write her a note. It really can't be helped,
and I know she will understand. Ask her, please, to let me have her
bill, and she needn't trouble to come again; the children will be too
busy to take any more lessons before we sail."
"I'll tell mother," said Betty; "she'll be sorry not to have seen you
herself."
Mrs. Martin was turning away, but she glanced once more at Betty's pale
little face, and then, as if with a sudden thought, she paused and drew
out her purse.
"My little boys are very fond of your mother," she said kindly. "They
mind her better than they ever minded any other teacher they had, and
their father and I are both much pleased with her methods. I hope that
another winter--but one never knows what may happen. Here's a little
present for you, dear; buy something nice for yourself with it."
As she spoke, Mrs. Martin held out her hand, and in it there was a bill.
Betty saw it distinctly; a crisp, new five-dollar bill.
For one breathless, delicious moment, the little girl wavered, while her
heart beat so fast that she could scarcely breathe, and all the blood in
her body seemed to come surging up into her face and neck. Impulsively,
she held out her hand. Another second and her fingers would have closed
upon the tempting gift. Suddenly her hand dropped to her side, and all
the color died out of her face again, leaving it even paler than before.
"You are very kind," she said in a low, unsteady voice; "thank you very
much, but--but mother doesn't like to have us take money."
Mrs. Martin looked surprised, even a little annoyed. For a moment she
seemed inclined to dispute the point, but seeing the child's evident
embarrassment and distress, changed her mind.
"Very well, dear," she said good-naturedly. "I am sorry you won't take
my present, but you are right not to do anything of which your mother
would disapprove. When we come back next autumn you must get your mother
to bring you to see us some time. Now good-bye. You won't forget my
message, will you?"
Jack was watching anxiously for his sister's return. At the familiar
sound of the latch-key he raised himself on his elbow, straining his
eyes for the first glimpse of Betty's face.
"Well, is it all right?" he cried eagerly; "are we going to have the
carriage? Oh, Betty, it isn't; I see it in your eyes."
Betty said nothing, but going over to the sofa, sat down beside her
little brother, slipping her arm lovingly about him. Jack winked hard
and bit his lip, but he, too, was silent after that first exclamation.
Perhaps even Betty herself did not realize how keen this disappointment
was to the little cripple. In a few moments Betty spoke.
"It was five dollars," she said.
"Five dollars!" repeated Jack incredulously. "Oh, Betty, what a lot of
money! Mother could never spare all that at once."
"I could have had it, though," said Betty, speaking fast and nervously.
"I could have had every bit of it. A lady was coming to see mother; I
met her on the stairs. Mother gives her little boys music lessons, and
she came to say they are all going to Europe next week. She was very
kind; she said she wanted to give me a present, and she offered me a
five-dollar bill."
Jack gasped, and two red spots glowed in his cheeks.
"You didn't take it, did you?"
"I wanted to," said Betty slowly; "I wanted to very much. I was just
going to take it in my hand, and then I remembered how mother would
feel, and I didn't."
Jack heaved a deep sigh.
"I'm glad you didn't," he said rather tremulously.
Again there was silence. Both children were trying hard to keep back
the coming tears. Again Betty was the first to speak.
"I suppose some mothers wouldn't mind their children taking presents,"
she said. "I wonder why mother is so very particular?"
"Why, don't you know?" Jack's blue eyes opened wide in surprise. "It's
because we're English, and mother once lived in that beautiful place
with the park and the deer. She can't forget about it, even if she is
poor now. She has to remember she's a lady, and ladies never do take
money from strangers."
Betty sighed impatiently.
"I suppose it's wrong," she said, "but sometimes I can't help wishing
mother hadn't been quite such a grand person when she lived in England.
What's the use of it now when we have to live in a flat, and mother has
to give music lessons and do all the housework herself? If she hadn't
had all those beautiful things once, she wouldn't mind so much about
being poor now."
"Well, but it's nice to have the other things to think about," said
Jack. "Aren't you glad you've got ancestors?"
"I don't think I care very much," said practical Betty; "I'd rather have
relations that are alive now. Winifred Hamilton said her uncle gave her
a five-dollar gold-piece for Easter. I wish we had an uncle, don't you?"
"We have got Uncle Jack," said Jack thoughtfully, "but we don't know
where he is, and mother doesn't like to have us ask her about him.
There's the door bell, and it's mother's ring. Wait one minute, Betty,
please. Don't say anything to her about the carriage; she'd be so sorry
to think we were disappointed, you know."
"No, I won't," said Betty emphatically.