MR. DICK PLANS A PICNIC
The law is a great blessing, and what we should do without it would be
hard to tell. But it is also a complicated mechanism and very difficult
to understand. So we won’t go into legal details, but satisfy ourselves
with some main facts. And, indeed, since Betty never knew, and couldn’t
have understood if she had known, the processes by which her fortune
became legally hers, it is certainly unnecessary to trouble ourselves
about them. By the regular proceedings, then, of this wise but
mysterious “law,” Betty’s claims were duly established, and Mr. Morris
was appointed guardian of her financial affairs. Since he lived in
Australia, Mr. Brewster was appointed to be his representative in this
country. Both these gentlemen received salaries for their labors, and
Betty was therefore under no obligation to them—except that, being true
and noble-hearted men, they managed affairs with a generous interest
that money could not repay. Even inexperienced Betty appreciated this,
and often thanked them with all the earnestness of her ardent Irish
heart.
The Van Courts, one and all, were her firm friends and allies. Though
Mr. Dick teased her, and Mrs. Van Court often seemed curt and chilling,
and Miss Margaret was blunt and outspoken, yet on the whole they were
very good to the little stranger within their gates; and Miss Grace was
angelically kind.
So the plans for the future went on rapidly, for all were interested in
the novel enterprise; and Mr. Morris, who was obliged to return to
Australia soon, wanted matters to progress as far as possible before he
left the country.
The Stillford house was bought, and as Betty, being a minor, could not
hold property, the deed was made out in Mr. Brewster’s name, who held it
in trust for her until she should come of age.
The house being bought, the next thing, of course, was the furniture.
“You’ll have to go to New York for it,” said Mrs. Van Court. “There’s
nothing worth buying in Greenborough.”
“Just the thing!” exclaimed Mr. Dick, who was present at this conclave.
“We’ll make a picnic to New York, and stay several days. I’ll go with
you, and show you the sights. Hast been to New York, Popinjay?”
“No, sir,” said Betty, shyly, for she always felt as if the young man
was poking fun at her.
“Then I’ll take you. Grace, you may go too, if you’ll be good; and,
Brewster, I suppose we’ll have to have you along; Mr. Morris, of course;
Margaret, if she likes; and will you go, mother?”
Mrs. Van Court said she felt it her duty to go, as she would be needed
to look after such a frivolous party; but Miss Margaret declined, saying
she would stay at home and keep house.
So the trip was arranged, and they were to start the next day.
“And now run to bed, Betty,” said Mrs. Van Court; “it is already past
the hour.”
During the fortnight Betty had spent with them, Mrs. Van Court had
undertaken to instruct her in at least the rudiments of good manners and
social customs, and the child’s ready adaptability and quick wit enabled
her to do credit to her teacher.
Instead of her slangy, saucy ways, Betty had acquired a polite demeanor
which, being modeled very carefully after Mrs. Van Court’s, was perhaps
over-dignified. This majestic air, when combined with Betty’s queer
grammar and occasional lapses into Irish idioms, amused Mr. Richard Van
Court extremely, and he liked nothing better than to tease her until she
lost her dignity and made sharp replies.
Then Mrs. Van Court would reprove them both, and send Richard away while
she gave Betty a lesson in behavior. Her rules were very strict, too:
Betty was not allowed at dinner when there were guests present, she was
always sent to bed at eight o’clock, and in every way was treated as a
well-brought-up little girl of fourteen ought to be.
She sometimes felt rebellious; but there were so many pleasures that
they more than made up for the deprivations, and, too, Betty really
wanted to learn the gentle and refined ways of those about her.
So, though she would have liked to stay up later, she said good night
gracefully and went to her room.
There she found a good-sized box bearing the dressmaker’s label, and she
knew at once it was the traveling-suit she was to wear to New York, and
which Miss Grace had feared might not arrive in time. Betty opened the
box, and removing the tissue-paper, saw a skirt of bright-red silk. She
was delighted beyond measure, for the Van Court ladies rarely allowed
her to have her dresses as bright as she liked. They preferred to wear
neutral tints themselves, and tried to persuade Betty that pale or
subdued tones were in every way preferable to the gorgeous colors in
which her soul delighted.
So the red silk skirt was a surprise, and Betty tried it on at once. The
hooks were on the wrong side of the belt. “But,” thought Betty, “sure,
that’s the new-fangled way. Every one of my frocks has some queer
belongings to it.”
The jacket was folded with the red silk inside; but she quickly whisked
it out, turned the sleeves, and tried it on with a smile of real
satisfaction.
“Miss Grace’ll say it doesn’t fit me,” she thought, for the collar
seemed a bit humpy. The jacket fastenings, which were pretty loops of
black braid, were a little difficult to manage, being on the inside, but
she finally conquered them. Then she took it off, and folded it neatly
again in its box, and went to bed to dream of the wonderful New York
trip.
Next morning Miss Grace popped her head in at Betty’s door.
“Wake up,” she said. “It’s a lovely day to start on our trip, and it is
high time you were getting ready. Put on your new frock and hurry
down-stairs so that I may see if it is all right.”
“Yes, Miss Grace, dear; I’ll be down in a jiffy!” And Betty hopped up
and made her toilet, all the while wondering what New York would be
like. She managed the red silk dress more easily this time, but still
thought it queer why it felt so uncomfortable.
However, she knew Miss Grace would make it all right somehow, and she
ran down to the breakfast-room, where the family was already assembled.
“Why, Betty!” exclaimed Miss Margaret, “what have you done? You’ll spoil
that dress!”
“Go up-stairs at once,” said Mrs. Van Court, sternly, “and put it on
properly.”
Betty looked so amazed at these speeches, and then cast such a
questioning glance at Miss Grace, that that lady burst into laughter,
and was unable to speak for a moment.
“Popinjay,” said Mr. Dick, gravely, “I don’t know much about millinery;
but as you seem to know even less, I will inform you that you have put
on your frock inside out.”
“I’m sure I haven’t!” exclaimed Betty, indignantly. “Have I, Miss
Grace?”
“You certainly have, Betty. That red silk is the lining. Your suit is of
blue cloth trimmed with black braid.”
Then Miss Grace took Betty’s hand, and they went up-stairs to right
things.
Of course that explained the queer fastenings; but Betty was much
disappointed to find herself wearing a dark-blue dress instead of a
bright-red one, and in her secret heart she vowed to get a bright-red
dress as soon as she had an opportunity.
In great good humor the party began their journey to New York.
Mr. Morris acted the part of courier, and flew around in his spasmodic
way, buying tickets, checking luggage, and making himself generally
useful. He took Betty under his special protection, while Mr. Van Court
looked after his mother’s comfort, and Mr. Brewster devoted himself to
Miss Grace.
Betty was a little bewildered by all the noise and bustle, but enjoyed
the trip thoroughly and was almost sorry when it was ended and the train
rolled into the great train-shed in Jersey City.
Then they crossed the ferry, and Betty learned that the noise and
confusion she had thought so great were as nothing to the clattering
uproar of New York City.
They walked through a long, covered bridge that spanned a street instead
of a river, and then went down some steps into another street that
appeared to be packed full of people.
[Illustration: “BETTY CLASPED HER ARMS TIGHTLY AROUND A LAMP-POST, THUS
ANCHORING HERSELF.”]
Mr. Morris grasped Betty’s arm firmly, and together they plunged into
the moving throng, and were almost carried along with it. “Bless my
soul!” he said. “This won’t do, this won’t do. This is the day of the
great parade, but I didn’t suppose there’d be such a crowd—such an
immense crowd! I was aiming for the elevated road; but we can’t do it,
we can’t do it. We must take cabs.”
However, there were no cabs to be had, the surface cars were crowded to
their utmost capacity, and the steps of the elevated stations were
thronged with people unable to get up to the platforms. “Well, well!”
said Mr. Morris, “I never saw such a crowd—never! I must consult with
Brewster and Dick.”
He turned back to seek them, and Betty turned, too; but somehow the
crowd surged between them, and the child was fairly swept off her feet
and carried away, and when she touched the ground again Mr. Morris was
nowhere to be seen. Betty was frightened, but she was not bewildered.
She pushed along to a lamp-post near by, and clasped her arms tightly
around it, thus anchoring herself as near as possible to the spot where
Mr. Morris last saw her. She stood there until her arms were numb,
hoping he would come; but he did not, and the crowd seemed to increase.
Then Betty set her wits to work. She knew she was lost in New York City,
but she had perfect confidence that she would find her friends again in
some way.
She had no money with her, as Mr. Morris had taken her purse in his
pocket for safe-keeping. But she knew that while in New York they were
to stay at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and though she had no idea where that
was located, she felt sure that she could succeed in getting there, and
that was her best chance of being found.
She glanced at the people who stood nearest her, and decided upon a
newsboy as the most promising aid.
“Say, young fellow, how do you get to the Fifth Av’noo Hotel?” she said,
unconsciously lapsing into Lame Jack’s vernacular in consideration of
the type she was addressing.
Now, a New York newsboy is not easily surprised, but to hear such a
well-dressed little girl using his own lingo was rather startling.
But, though totally unaware of it, Betty had assumed something of Mrs.
Van Court’s aristocratic pose and expression, and observing this, the
boy refrained from chaffing.
“Take the Sixt’ Av’noo L up to Twenty-third Street, an’ then walk
acrost,” he said briefly; and Betty made up her mind she would do it.
“Where do you take the Sixt’ Av’noo L?” she further demanded.
“Right up there,” said the boy, grinning, as he pointed to the stairs,
not ten feet away, but so packed with people that it seemed vain to
attempt to reach them.
But just then the music of a brass band was heard, and a company of
soldiers came marching along.
As if by magic the policemen cleared the stairs, and the captain of the
company started up, leading his men.
[Illustration: “‘CAN’T I GO UP WITH YOU?’ BETTY ASKED. ‘I’M LOST AND I
MUST FIND MY PEOPLE.’”]
Like a flash Betty darted to the captain’s side.
“Oh, please, sir, can’t I go up with you?” she asked. “I’m lost, and I
must find my people.”
“Can you be a soldier?” said the kind old captain, looking at her
quizzically.
“I can keep step an’ obey orders, sir,” said she, quickly, “if that’s
what it means.”
“That’s all there is to it,” said the captain, laughing; “walk by me.”
And marching at the captain’s side to the music of the band, Betty
mounted the stairs and walked along the platform.
The train which was waiting seemed well filled already, but the company
managed to get on somehow.
Unheeding the closed gates, they jumped over them and on to the
platforms. Betty suddenly felt herself lifted into the air and swung
over a gate, and the next moment the train had started, and she
discovered she was on the front platform of the front car, with the
captain and seven other soldiers.
The men were as deferential as if she had been the daughter of the
regiment, and the ride up-town was exciting and splendid. She told her
story, and the captain ordered a detachment of his troops to escort her
from the station at Twenty-third Street to her hotel.
After learning at the office that none of the Greenborough party had
arrived, the soldiers took Betty to the parlor.
Here she dismissed them politely, saying she was not afraid to stay
alone, and she was sure her friends would soon arrive.
So with grave and respectful salutes the guard departed, and Betty sat
contentedly on a huge red velvet sofa and waited.