A SHOPPING TOUR
As they rode along, Miss Van Court talked to her companion kindly and
with frankness.
“Betty,” she said, “you are now a rich girl, and your money is at your
own disposal; but, as a friend, I want to advise you a little. You are
too young to know what is best to do, and I do not think Mrs. Tucker is
a fit person to have charge of you in any way. So I am going to take you
home to stay with me until definite plans can be made for your future.
Are you willing to trust my judgment and allow me to assist you as you
assume your new responsibilities?”
“Indeed I am, Miss Van Court; you are only too good to me. I’m awful
ignorant, and I’m not so good as I’d like to be, but truly, I do want to
be good and do what is right.”
“Very well, Betty; we will hope that in time you can get the better of
your ignorance and faults, and meanwhile we’ll go and buy you some
dresses that will at least make you look wiser and better.”
And then the fun began. The poor little drudge, who had never had a
really pretty dress since she could remember, was provided with a
wardrobe she thought fit for a princess.
Several dresses were bought ready-made, and Miss Van Court decreed that
Betty should at once put on a lovely pink-and-white gingham trimmed with
dainty embroidery, and keep it on. To this was added a wide Leghorn flat
with pink ribbons and a waving white feather; and Betty’s cheeks flushed
and her eyes danced as the saleswoman put it on her curly head.
And then they bought shoes and gloves and linen, until Betty thought
that Miss Van Court must think she was going to stay a little girl all
her life, for surely she could never wear out all these things before
she grew up! And then Betty insisted that the white parasol must be
bought. So they selected it with great care, and Miss Van Court accepted
the pretty gift as gracefully as if a great lady had given it to her.
Then she advised Betty to buy also a smaller one for herself. This was a
crowning glory; and they found a white silk affair with little ruffles
that Miss Van Court thought suitable for a child; and Betty carried it
away with her, feeling that now there was nothing more to wish for.
They reached Miss Van Court’s home in time for luncheon, and after that
Mr. Brewster proposed that they all adjourn to the library and talk over
matters.
The elder Miss Van Court was there as well as Miss Grace, though the
latter seemed to look upon Betty as her especial charge.
[Illustration: “BETTY’S CHEEKS FLUSHED AND HER EYES DANCED AS THE
SALESWOMAN PUT THE HAT ON HER CURLY HEAD.”]
Mr. Morris, the Australian lawyer, had arrived from New York, and Mr.
Brewster and Mrs. Van Court completed the party.
Then they all began to talk at once, and offered various and conflicting
suggestions.
Miss Grace proposed that they keep Betty with them,—for the present, at
least,—as she had no relatives, and she must live somewhere. Mrs. Van
Court said that without question a good boarding-school was the only
place for the child for the next few years. Mr. Morris offered to take
her back with him to Australia, and to adopt her as a member of his
family.
Finally there was a pause, and Betty herself spoke. Her voice trembled a
little, but she felt that this was a critical moment, and if she was to
save her prospective home she must strike a telling blow.
“It’s kind and good you all are to me,” she said, “and I’m thinkin’
you’re wiser than I am myself; but Miss Grace says the fortune is my
own, to do just as I like with; and I _can’t_ go to a boarding-school,
or to Australia, or live here, because I want to have a home of my own.
I don’t know exactly what kind of a one I can buy, but it must be a
_home_, and it must be all my own. I have never had a home, and I’m
longin’ for one; and unless my money can buy it, I don’t want the money
at all, at all.”
Mr. Morris looked disappointed, and Mr. Brewster looked amused. Mrs. Van
Court sniffed a little, but Miss Grace said kindly: “I think you are
right, Betty, and we will direct our plans toward gratifying your
lifelong wish.”
“But it is absurd,” said Mrs. Van Court. “A child like that cannot take
charge of a house. What she wants or doesn’t want is not the question.
We who are older know what is best for her, and she should be guided by
our advice. Now, a few years at Madame De Vincy’s school would make a
lady of her, and fit her to use her money intelligently.”
“Madame De Vincy!” exclaimed Miss Grace. “She would spoil Betty
entirely. I know the sort of young ladies she turns out: rattle-pated
fashion-plates, with a smattering of French and music—of no earthly use
to themselves or any one else.”
“I agree with you,” said Mr. Brewster.
However, as he usually agreed with Miss Grace, his remark carried very
little weight.
Then the elder Miss Van Court spoke.
“I think,” she said, in her decided way, “you are all meddling with what
does not concern you. What right have you to interfere with the dictates
of a written will? If Mr. Dennis McGuire expressly decreed that his
granddaughter should have his money to do with as she chose, I think no
one else has any authority in the matter.”
“That is true; that is true,” said Mr. Morris; “and though the terms of
the will are unusual, most unusual, yet it is valid, perfectly valid,
and Miss McGuire is accountable to no one, to no one at all, for the use
she makes of her money.”
Mr. Morris was a thin, wiry little man, with sparse, wiry black hair
that seemed trying to spring off his head as he talked, and restless
black eyes that winked and blinked incessantly. Although a man of sound
wisdom and good judgment, he had a nervous manner, and he emphasized his
spoken opinions with continuous muscular activity.
“Therefore,” he went on, squaring his elbows, and tapping his left palm
with his right forefinger—“therefore there is nothing for us to do,
nothing, but to defer to the wishes of Miss McGuire. Now, wait a
minute.” Though all present recognized his authority, and had no desire
to question it, Mr. Morris seemed always in fear of interruption, and he
raised his finger warningly to prevent such a possibility. “Now, wait a
minute. I do not mean there can be no guardian, no financial guardian,
to look after the investments, for such a person is recommended in the
will; but his duties are defined, clearly defined, and he is to receive
an adequate salary; and these duties in no wise include or permit
dictation as to expenditures.”
Betty, in a large arm-chair by Miss Grace’s side, was grasping tightly
the carved wolves’ heads that presented themselves to her little brown
hands. She was looking straight at Mr. Morris and listening intently to
every word he said, though she never really forgot her pink gingham
dress and pretty shoes.
But when he finished his speech she let go the wolves’ heads, and
springing to her feet, darted across the room and stood before him.
“Then I can buy my home!” she said, in a voice of rapture. “Oh, sir,
will you help me?”
“Bless my soul!” exclaimed Mr. Morris, much disconcerted by this sudden
attack. “But yes—yes, child,” he went on, pounding his knees with his
clenched fists; “I _will_ help you, of course I will.”
Indeed, only a hard-hearted tyrant could have resisted Betty’s pleading
face and quenched the dawning hope in her blue eyes; and Mr. Morris was
by no means a hard-hearted tyrant. His black hair seemed to bristle less
ferociously, and his black eyes snapped almost mildly, as he took
Betty’s outstretched hands in his, and said:
“My child, so far as I have any authority I will use it to help you
establish your home—your own home.”
“You’re a brick, sir,” said Betty, so fervently that nobody laughed; and
then Mr. Morris, to prove his good will, shook her hands vigorously,
though quite unconsciously, and Betty, being of a responsive nature,
shook his hands in the same absent-minded manner; and they shook away,
looking like some kind of new patent pump-handles, until Miss Grace
broke the silence by saying:
“Then the home is a foregone conclusion; now let us make plans for it.”
“Yes, ’m,” said Betty, breaking off the hand-shaking, and returning to
her seat by Miss Grace’s side.
[Illustration: “‘THEN I CAN BUY MY HOME!’ SHE SAID”]
“But,” said Mr. Morris, fitting the finger-tips of his right hand
carefully against those of his left, and then removing them one by one,
“although I have promised to do all in my power to further your
projects, whatever they may be,—and I will do so, I will certainly do
so,—yet I want you to understand, distinctly to understand, that a home
is offered you under my Australian roof. My wife sent an urgent
invitation for you to go back with me and become a member of our
household—a valued member of our household. We have a son and a
daughter who would welcome you, gladly welcome you, and you would have a
comfortable and happy home, with no cares or responsibilities. Now, wait
a minute. I do not urge this course, understand; I do not urge it, but I
want you to be aware, fully aware, of its advantages.”
“It does seem as if it might be the best plan,” said Miss Grace,
thoughtfully.
“I quite agree with you,” said Mr. Brewster.
“Of course it would be best,” exclaimed Mrs. Van Court; “it’s a chance
to be thankful for; and I hope, Betty, you will appreciate the kindness
of Mr. Morris and accept his offer.”
Betty’s happy smile had faded, and she began to think the battle was all
to be fought over again, when, to her relief, Miss Margaret Van Court
asserted herself once more:
“Mother, what is it to you what the child does? If she wishes to go with
Mr. Morris, let her say so; but if not, why try to influence her?”
Betty gave her a grateful look, and said:
“I do appreciate the gentleman’s kindness, and his wife’s, too; but I
want my own home, and I must have it.”
“Well, well,” said Mr. Morris, cheerfully, “that settles it—that
settles it. And now, where shall your home be, and will you build it, or
buy it already built?”
“Oh, I don’t want to build a house,” said Betty, seriously, “because it
would take too long, and I am in a hurry to get settled. I would like to
buy a house near here, but out in the country; and I did think I wanted
it to be like Mrs. Carver’s house, but I don’t; I want it just like this
one, or, at least, as near like this as I can get. But maybe I can’t
afford such a big one, sir?”
Although unintentional, the compliment of this speech quite won Mrs. Van
Court’s heart, and she smiled kindly on Betty.
“So you like my house, do you, you funny child?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. I think it is beautiful; the walls are so big, and the
windows so open. Do you want to sell it, ma’am?”
“No,” said Mrs. Van Court, laughing; “but I know of a house somewhat
like it, out on the Marsden Road.”
“Oh,” said Miss Grace, clapping her hands, “the Stillford place. Just
the thing! They say it is in the market at a great bargain. Let us drive
over this afternoon and look at it.”
The carriage was ordered, and Miss Grace, Betty, Mr. Morris, and Mr.
Brewster started off in high spirits to investigate the attractions of
the Stillford house.