LETTY
Letty spent a restless night. At first she had been much excited by
seeing the twins again and looked forward to their return in the morning
with much impatience. Jane and Christopher had wanted her to go home
with them that afternoon, to let Mrs. Hartwell-Jones see the ponies and
settle the matter at once.
But Mr. Drake could not allow this for two reasons. To begin with, a
long country trip would be too much for the ponies, together with their
march in the procession and two performances. For there was to be
another performance of the circus in the evening, and Mr. Drake’s second
reason was that Letty might not get back in time for it if she went out
to Sunnycrest. Jane was disappointed, for she had not known about the
second performance, and was hoping to keep Letty overnight. But it was
settled that they should all return very early in the morning and to
that time Letty looked forward eagerly until all at once it came over
her that she had no cause for rejoicing.
“Of course I shall be awfully glad to see Jane and Christopher again,”
she told herself, lying wide awake and thoughtful on her cot in the
small tent in which she slept as guardian of the fat Drake baby, “but
after all what good will it do me? They will be here with me for a
little while and then will go away again, and I shall probably never see
them again. And they will probably take Punch and Judy, too. Oh, oh, I
am to lose my dear little friends and what will become of me?” And she
began to cry softly.
Poor little Letty! She had not had a happy life since her mother’s
death. It was not from lack of kindness, for Mrs. Drake in her quiet,
dull way, had been as kind as possible. And dear Ben had been her
splendid, good big brother, gay and kind and thoughtful to her always.
But everything had been so different. The winter after her mother’s
death had been a time of desolation to Letty.
Letty sat out on the front steps of the boarding-house where she lived
with Mrs. Drake whenever the weather permitted, or walked drearily about
the Square. She made no friends and had no pleasure except her Sunday
attendance at church, where the soft music and wonderful stained glass
windows never failed to soothe and comfort her. These stained glass
windows represented the only paintings she had ever seen. But it was the
music that comforted her most. She learned some of the hymns after a
while and ventured to join sometimes in a voice that had a surprising
quality in its untrained cadences.
The summer was easier to bear as the traveling about from place to place
brought diversion; and she loved her work with the ponies. But long
before the summer was over she had grown tired of the roving life and
was glad to be back in winter quarters again.
She was happier that second winter, for she had grown more resigned to
the loss of her mother and the dreadful, aching desire for her
mercifully had lessened. But the restless, moving life of the circus
grew more and more distasteful and after her brother’s death—by a
frightful accident—she felt that she could endure the life no longer.
But the poor child had no other home, no other friends, and stayed on
with the Drakes for want of another home. Her little friend, Emma
Haines, lived over in a small town in New Jersey, but her family were
too poor to take in and care for another child. The rich Miss Reese who,
together with her little cousin, Clara Markham, had been so kind to
Letty one winter, had passed out of her life completely, and even Mrs.
Goldberg, with the amusing parrot, had not been heard from since her
removal to California.
So Letty lived on, a sad, dull, monotonous life. She attended school in
the winters but was never happy there, as she was invariably behind her
classes and was too shy and sad to try to make friends among the other
scholars. Another baby came to Mrs. Drake, which proved a source of much
comfort to Letty. He was a big, jolly, lusty baby—the same she had been
holding in her arms when she had first caught sight of the twins at the
railway junction. And her happiest, or rather her least sad hours were
those she spent at church and in nursing Mrs. Drake’s baby.
And now, what did the future hold for her? Mr. Drake had met with losses
and failure in his business and the circus was broken up. What was to
become of her? Small wonder that Letty wept despairingly as she lay
awake in her little canvas bedroom.
But Jane and Christopher were all gay excitement and happy anticipation.
“I am sure Mrs. Hartwell-Jones means to buy the ponies,” Jane confided
to Christopher, “and I’m so glad, because, you see, sometimes she may
take us for rides.”
“And let me drive,” added Christopher.
And Mrs. Hartwell-Jones really did mean to buy the ponies. She asked
grandfather to attend to the matter for her when he returned to the
circus grounds to see about his own business; for grandfather had about
decided to buy one or two of Mr. Drake’s horses for work on the farm.
But Mr. Baker was too businesslike to buy without being sure of the sort
of horse he was getting, and arranged with Joshua to have Mr. Drake
drive or ride out such horses as grandfather thought of getting,
together with the Shetland ponies, to Sunnycrest, for Joshua’s
inspection and judgment.
The twins were in a whirl to get started and gave grandfather no peace
until the phaeton—a low, wide-seated vehicle with plenty of room for
three on the seat when two of them were only nine—was brought round.
There was an instant scramble for the outside place and a quarrel
threatened; but grandfather settled the whole matter by saying quietly:
“Ladies first, Kit, my boy. Janey shall have the outside place for the
first half of the way.”
They started off in high spirits, Jane quiet and absorbed, bending
enough to watch the revolving wheel crunch the bits of dust and dry
clay, lost in her own happy thoughts or listening to Christopher’s
chatter and storing up bits of knowledge. Christopher’s tongue was not
quiet a moment and he asked question after question.
It had always been like that with the twins from the time they had
learned to talk. Jane seldom asked questions, but Christopher must know
the meaning of everything that came to his notice. Not that Jane was
stupid because she did not ask questions. She generally listened to
Christopher’s continual “why” and learned from the answers given to him.
And very often she would speak out unexpectedly some piece of
information that surprised every one. Indeed, an uncle of the twins had
once said:
“Kit talks the most, but Jane says the most.”
“See that squirrel running across the road?” said grandfather. “Did you
see him, Janey? A pretty red one.”
“I could have shot him, if I’d had a gun,” boasted Christopher.
“Oh, Kit, that would have been mean! He wasn’t doing any one any harm.”
“How do you know he wasn’t? Perhaps he was doing something hateful to
some other animal. Animals do that, you know; they’re such beasts.”
“Well, anyway, you couldn’t have shot it; squirrels run so fast,”
replied Jane with satisfaction.
“I could have if I’d had any practice. When I get my gun I shall
practice on the rabbits. They’re no good, anyhow.”
“They are some good. They’re sweet, dear, gentle things and you just
shan’t hurt them.”
“They haven’t got as much sense as squirrels and they’re lots greedier.”
Then followed a discussion between the children concerning the habits of
squirrels, rabbits and other creatures of the forest, in which each
displayed a goodly stock of knowledge of natural history. Grandfather
chuckled proudly as he listened, but made no comment.
“Well, well, well,” he remarked, when the subject of red squirrels had
been exhausted and he thought he saw another “why” trembling on the tip
of Christopher’s tongue, “here we are, half-way to town and nobody has
yet offered to relieve me of the hard task of driving.”
There was instant strife for possession of the reins.
“Tut, tut, play fair. Kit, my boy, remember your manners. Ladies first.”
And grandfather handed the reins to triumphant Jane.
“Aw, she’s not a lady, she’s only a girl,” growled Christopher in
chagrin. “Anyhow, it’s my turn to sit on the outside. I’m sure it is,
and I’m going to have my turn. Move over, Jane, you needn’t think you
can have everything. She needn’t be a pig, just because she’s a lady,”
he added to his grandfather, who had laid a restraining hand upon his
sleeve. “Move over, you!”
“Grandfather didn’t say to. Don’t push so, you rude boy. Ow! You’ll make
me drop the lines.”
“Pig!”
“Rude-y!”
“Prude-y!”
“Grandfather, Kit——”
“Telltale!”
“I don’t care. You’re a rude, horrid boy,” said Jane, beginning to cry.
“And you are a stingy, tattling cry-baby. I just wish——”
“Children!” cried grandfather sternly. “I’m astonished! Why, do you
realize what you are saying to each other? Jane, give me those reins.
Christopher, stay quiet. I should not allow you to sit on the outside
now, for any consideration.”
The children succumbed meekly. When his grandfather called him
“Christopher” the boy felt doubly crushed. Jane’s tender little heart at
once began to ache. She felt that it had all been her fault. It was
Christopher’s turn to sit on the outside and there was no real reason
why she should have been given the privilege of driving first. She would
have liked to tell Christopher that she was sorry, to whisper to him to
make up. But she glanced at his face and saw that it would do no good to
speak for the present. Christopher was in the sulks and she knew that if
she apologized now he would only say “shucks” and shove her. Yet, if she
waited until he was amiable again, he probably would have forgotten all
about it and call her silly.
But she herself soon forgot the quarrel in the excitement of arriving at
the field again. Letty was not in sight and grandfather was engaged with
Mr. Drake, so the children went on a tour of investigation. They visited
the menagerie and stared at the blinking, sleepy looking animals for a
time and then went in search of the ponies, which they found stabled in
a small tent placarded as containing the marvelous fat lady and thinnest
living skeleton.
As they stood feeding grass to the ponies and chattering, Letty joined
them. She came up so softly over the thick turf that they did not know
she was there until she spoke.
“Do you think your grandmother’s friend will take the ponies?” she asked
slowly.
The twins turned, and stared. Letty’s eyes were swollen and red with
weeping and her lip trembled as she spoke of the sale of Punch and Judy.
“I guess you hate to give ’em up,” observed Christopher sympathetically.
“Is that why you’ve been crying so, Letty?” asked Jane.
“Not altogether, though I shall miss the ponies. But I have to go away,
and I haven’t anywhere to go.”
The sadness of this state of affairs touched the happy, well-cared for
twins faintly.
“I guess you’ll find another circus to go with,” comforted Christopher
cheerfully, after a little pause.
“Oh, I don’t want to go to another circus! I hate ’em!”
“Then why do you cry because you are leaving this one?” demanded
matter-of-fact Christopher.
“Because I haven’t any home. Oh, Jane, do you suppose your grandmother
knows of any one who wants a maid? I’d be willing to do anything to help
and have a home.” And the tears rushed to her eyes again.
“Do you mean to say you’d give up a circus to do housework!” ejaculated
Christopher in great astonishment.
“Oh, I should be so happy to! And maybe I should get time to study
some.”
Christopher stared. Here was a curiosity indeed; a girl who liked
housework and study better than traveling around with a circus!
“Mrs. Hartwell-Jones is staying at our house while her ankle gets well,”
put in Jane. “She will be awfully good to Punch and Judy.”
“Is she the lady that wants to buy them?” asked Letty.
“Yes,” answered Jane, “and she was on the train when we were coming to
Sunnycrest, and saw you. And oh, Letty, she writes books, lots and lots
of them.”
“But she’s awfully nice,” added Christopher reassuringly. “Not a bit
prosy or stuck up.”
Two red spots came into Letty’s cheeks.
“To think that you know somebody who writes books! Oh, how I wish I
could see her!” she exclaimed impulsively.
Jane stared thoughtfully for a moment at the ponies and then said
quickly:
“Oh, Kit, let’s ask grandfather if Letty mayn’t drive the ponies out to
Sunnycrest herself. Then she can see Mrs. Hartwell-Jones.”
“And we can show her the farm, too. That would be jolly,” agreed
Christopher. “I speak to ride with Letty in the chariot.”
Letty burst out laughing. She was feeling very much excited over the
children’s plan.
“I shouldn’t have to drive the chariot,” she said. “Mr. Drake still has
the little carriage I used to use at Willow Grove. Do you remember?”
“And I’ll ask grandmother about getting you a place,” said Jane
confidentially to Letty, with a little air of importance. “Perhaps
Huldah would like somebody to help her in the kitchen. It would be nice
if you could stay with us, wouldn’t it?”
“Oh, that would be too good to be true!” cried Letty, bursting into
tears again at the very thought of such happiness.
“Oh, shucks!” exclaimed Christopher, turning his back.
Crying always embarrassed him.