THE FAMILY ARRIVES
According to Betty’s orders, Barney had the carriage at the door at
half-past three, that they might reach the station in time for the train
from New York at four.
But no Betty appeared.
After waiting a few minutes, Barney asked Pete, who came by, where he
supposed Miss Betty might be.
Pete didn’t know, but feeling that it devolved on him to attend to the
matter, he went and asked Ellen. Ellen didn’t know, and Norah the
parlor-maid was questioned next. She could only say that she had seen
Miss Betty dancing about the house a short time since, and perhaps she
was in the garden.
No anxiety was felt for Betty’s safety, but Barney became fearful that
he would be late for the train, and felt uncertain what to do.
After a more careful but still unsuccessful search, Pete said
resolutely:
“In the timporary absince av Miss Betty, I’ll be afther asshumin’
command. Do yees, Barney, go on to the thrain, an’ meet the ould lady
an’ the kid, an’ bring ’em up here. Fur if no one’s there they’ll not be
knowin’ what to do.”
So Barney drove off, and the rest began to search for the little girl in
earnest, for the situation was becoming alarming.
But no trace could be found, except the Leghorn hat and the gloves,
which lay on the bed in Betty’s room, apparently waiting to be worn when
she went to meet the grandmother.
“Is she dhrowned in the brook?” said Ellen, with a white, scared face.
“No,” said Pete; “it’s not possible, for I’m afther lookin’ there. Nor
she wouldn’t go over to Mis’ Van Coort’s without her purty hat on. I
can’t consaive what’s come to the choild.”
They were still searching when Barney returned, bringing Mrs. Kinsey,
little Polly, and the nurse. The lady looked grave when Pete and Ellen
told their story.
“Let me think,” said she, clasping her black-mitted hands together.
Then, turning to Pete, she said quickly:
“Is there a dog that knows the child?”
“Yis, mum; there’s Sydney; but he doesn’t know her overly much. He’s
tied in the barn, to kape him from following the kerridge.”
“Bring him here, please, and show him something of Betty’s.”
Pete went for the dog, while Ellen brought Betty’s hat and gloves.
“Find her, find her, good fellow,” said Mrs. Kinsey, as Sydney sniffed
at the gloves sagaciously.
The dog seemed to understand her, and went at once into the house. He
trotted about from room to room, wagging his head, but holding his tail
dejectedly down.
He sniffed a little at the elevator door; but as he had done the same at
the other doors, it gave no clue to the anxious watchers. Then he went
up-stairs, through Betty’s room and the nursery, and after that he
whined uncertainly, and seemed to say that the problem was too much for
him.
“Ye can’t find her, nayther, can ye, ould boy?” said Pete, patting the
dog’s head. “Well, ye seem to be shure she’s in the house, so I’ll
inshtitoot a s’arch mesilf, an’ I’ll go over ivery ha’p’orth o’ room,
from garret to cellar.”
He started up-stairs, and the dog followed him—slowly at first; and
then he suddenly pricked up his ears, and with a bound he flew past Pete
and tore up the narrow staircase to the tower.
“Arrah, but he’s found her!” thought Pete; and he climbed the stairs,
and reached the tower room just in time to hear Betty’s last faint call
of “El-len!” Sydney was already scratching at a closed door, and Pete
said:
“Is it locked in the cupboord ye are, Miss Betty, darlint? Wait a
minute, an’ I’ll have ye out o’ that, or me name’s not Pete!”
The hope of rescue nerved Betty afresh; but she realized the danger if
the big dog should bound at her in his joy at finding her.
“Wait, Pete,” she cried out. “Don’t let Sydney jump at me, fer it’s the
elevator-place I’m standin’ in, just on the narrow step, an’ I’ve no
room to step backward.”
“Marciful saints!” exclaimed Pete, “the ellyvator! Down, Sydney!
Charge!” And as the well-trained dog crouched to the floor, Pete, with a
“Stiddy, now!” slid the door carefully back, and Betty fell forward into
his strong arms. She was not unconscious, but so cramped that she almost
cried with pain as her knees and elbows bent. Pete carried her down to
her own room and laid her on the bed, and Mrs. Kinsey leaned over her
with true grandmotherly caresses.
Ellen bewailed the fact that they had no medicine-chest, and Pete
offered to run for the doctor.
But the new grandmother, proving herself worthy of the name, drew a
bottle of soothing lotion from her traveling-bag, where she had placed
it, “in case the baby bumped her head.”
At mention of the baby Betty’s face brightened.
“I’m all right now,” she said, as they rubbed her little thin arms; “but
I couldn’t have hild on much longer, with nothin’ at all to hold on to.”
“Indeed you couldn’t,” said Mrs. Kinsey, shuddering at the thought of
what might have happened if rescue had been delayed.
“Miss Betty,” said Norah, appearing at the door, “there’s a lame boy
below, askin’ to see you.” And then Betty jumped up, declaring again
that she was all right, and quite able to go down-stairs.
[Illustration: “AS THE ELEVATOR DOOR SLID BACK, BETTY FELL INTO PETE’S
STRONG ARMS.”]
“Run along, then,” said Mrs. Kinsey; “but lean on Norah, for you are
still weak. I will come down also as soon as I have laid off my bonnet.”
Betty went down-stairs, but not with her usual hop and skip, and found
Jack making friends with the baby.
“I’m awful glad you’ve come, Jack,” she said. “Now I’ve got my whole
family at last!”
In the excitement of Betty’s disappearance no one had paid any attention
to Nurse Lisa and little Polly, and they had remained on the veranda and
waited. Betty held out her hands to the baby, who crowed and laughed in
most good-natured fashion.
“Come to me, Polly,” she said, “and we’ll let nurse go and find Ellen,
and she’ll show her where to put her things.” Lisa went in search of the
unknown Ellen, and Betty sat down in a rocking-chair, and caressed the
baby with delight.
“Polly, you’re my sister now—my own dear little sister; and this is our
brother Jack.”
“Yi, yi,” said Polly, pulling at Jack’s hair, as he lay in the hammock
within reach of her little hands.
“An’ here comes the grandmother,” continued Betty. “Get up, Jack, an’
make your respects to her.”
Jack scrambled up, and, grasping his crutch, met Mrs. Kinsey half-way as
she came toward the group.
“How do you do, my boy?” she said, so pleasantly that Jack felt
reassured as to the danger of being “bossed.”
“I’m well, thank yer, ma’am. Will yer sit in the hammick, ma’am?”
“No; I don’t care for hammocks. I think that I’ll take this comfortable
rocker.”
So Jack sat in the hammock again, and the family proceeded to make one
another’s acquaintance.
“Now, grandmother,” said Betty, rocking back and forth with the baby,
“what’s your first name?”
“Jean,” said Mrs. Kinsey, smiling. “Why?”
“Well, I was goin’ to call you Gran’ma Kinsey; but I don’t think Kinsey
is as pretty a name, so if you don’t mind, ma’am, we’ll call you Grandma
Jean.”
“Very well, Betty; Grandma Jean it shall be to all my
grandchildren—Betty, Jack, and Polly.”
Jack beamed at being thus quickly taken into the charmed circle, and
said honestly:
“I ain’t much good—I’m so lame, an’ I don’t know nothin’ how to behave;
but Betty says maybe a doctor can straighten me on me pins, and I’ll do
whatsumever you tell me to, Grandma Jean.”
“All right, my boy. I think we’ll get on famously; and we’ll try to be
the happiest family in Greenborough.”
Polly joined in the general conversation with unintelligible remarks and
a laugh of bubbly glee, and then Betty tried to make her say “Grandma
Jean.”
“Bamma Dean,” was the nearest the obedient infant could come to it; but
that was considered highly satisfactory by her new relatives.
Then supper was announced, and all went gaily in to their first meal in
Denniston Hall.
Mrs. Van Court had suggested that, since the majority of the family were
children, a midday dinner should be the rule, and a six-o’clock supper.
So Ellen had arranged just the very nicest supper that could be
imagined, and with affectionate pride Betty conducted Grandma Jean to
her arm-chair at the head of the table; Jack, as the man of the house,
was placed at the foot; Polly, in her new high chair, had a whole side
to herself; and Betty sat opposite.
And then what a merry time they had; and how they chattered and laughed;
and how good the broiled chicken was; and how fast Ellen’s flaky hot
rolls disappeared, and the little waitress had to fly to the kitchen for
more! And Grandma Jean had to pour unlimited cups of weak tea for Betty
and Jack, while Polly feasted on bread-and-milk, with a chicken-bone by
way of dessert. And being no respecter of persons, the tiny mite babbled
and chuckled all through the conversation of the others; and, indeed,
quite often they all talked at once: but, as somebody has said, that is
a good sign of a successful supper.
To be sure, the dictates of etiquette were not very strictly adhered to,
for Jack’s table manners were even worse than Polly’s, and hers were not
good; but though there may have been a better-behaved family, there
never was a happier one. Under the cheering influence of the first
“square” meal he had had since Christmas, Jack grew talkative and jolly;
and, radiantly happy in the final attainment of her ideals, Betty made
plans for the future which embraced everything desirable, from
chocolate-creams to a captive balloon—the latter in response to a
suggestion from Jack, who had read of such a thing in the last
newspapers he had ever bought to sell.
Grandma Jean, being blessed with common sense and tact passing that of
most women, chattered with them and entered heartily into all their
plans and projects, and at that meal never said a word about forks or
elbows.
But the festivities proved too lengthy for the youngest participant, and
Polly’s eyes refused to stay open; so Lisa took her away to her crib.
Then the rest of the family had strawberries and cream and beautiful
frosted cakes, some of which they really left on the plate, though Jack
looked at them reflectively.
And there was more talk and more laughter; and if Grandma Jean hadn’t
proposed leaving the table, I fear they would all have been sitting
there yet.
They went into the parlors, and sat in the beautiful brocaded chairs,
for who was to forbid it? And they feasted their eyes on the wonderful
glittering chandeliers.
“They’re like icicles,” commented Betty.
“Yes,” said Jack; “or those things that grow in caves. Say, Betty, are
we goin’ to study out of books? I’m dyin’ to learn things.”
“So’m I; an’ I guess we’ll have a governess—or would you rather go out
to a regular school, Jack?” she inquired.
“I dunno. Governess, I guess. The fellers’d laugh at me in a school,
’cause I don’t know about books.”
“Me too; so let’s have a governess. I’ll ask Miss Grace about it
to-morrow. Or could you get one for us, Grandma Jean?”
[Illustration: “A TALK AFTER SUPPER”]
“I’ll think about it, and we’ll talk it over to-morrow. Now I’m going to
make my first rule, and I hope you’ll both be willing to keep it. I want
you to go to bed every night promptly at eight o’clock.”
This didn’t suit Betty particularly, for she was a wide-awake little
girl; but Grandma Jean had been so kind and indulgent in every other
way, she didn’t want to refuse her first request.
“I ain’t kickin’,” said Jack, though he was secretly thinking that the
“bossin’” had begun. To go to bed at eight o’clock struck him as
ludicrous rather than otherwise; for, never having had a bed to go to,
it made little difference when he went to it. But feeling that he ought
to accept a little bitter with so much sweet, he promised to remember
the rule and obey it.
After the children had left her, Mrs. Kinsey sat a long time, thinking
it all over.
“It’s an experiment,” she said to herself, “a very interesting
experiment, and I don’t see why it shouldn’t turn out successfully. At
any rate, I shall do my best to help it along.”
Then she went to the kitchen, and calling all the servants together,
gave them an outline of her domestic policy, and firmly gathered up the
reins of government. They all seemed willing and respectful, and Pete
assured Mrs. Kinsey, in a deferential tone but belligerent manner, that
the women would be responsible to her for their behavior, but if any of
the men in service gave any “impidence,” he’d “show ’em what’s what and
who’s who!”
Then, with his air of general proprietorship of the whole place, he told
her she might go fearlessly to rest as soon as she chose, for he would
attend to locking doors and windows, and had innumerable precautions,
patent and otherwise, against burglars.
So Mrs. Kinsey went up-stairs, and listening at Jack’s door, discovered
that he was sleeping energetically and somewhat noisily. Then she
visited the nursery, and found all serene there. But when she came to
Betty’s bedside, that young person smiled up at her with wide-open eyes.
“Why, I supposed you’d be sound asleep,” said grandma, in surprise.
“No, I’m sound awake,” said Betty, cheerfully.
The full moon shone in and made the room almost as bright as day. Mrs.
Kinsey offered to close the blinds, that Betty might go to sleep.
“No, don’t,” said the child; “I’m just lying here enjoyin’ it all, and
after a while I’ll fall asleep.”
Then, lest she might have a fear of burglars, Mrs. Kinsey told her of
Pete’s numerous precautions and safeguards.
But Betty only laughed. “I’m not afraid,” she said; “but if I hear a
burglar trying to get in, I’ll run and jump into your bed for
protection.”
“All right, dear; I’ll leave the door ajar. Now go to sleep, like a good
child.”
Perhaps an hour later, Betty, still awake, heard a slight noise, and
raising her head, saw clearly in the bright moonlight a fearful sight.
She shook with terror, but suppressed the scream that rose to her lips,
and watching her chance, sprang out of bed and half-way across the
floor. She reached Mrs. Kinsey’s room, and with an agonized shriek of
“Grandma, grandma, I’m comin’! Let me in,” she flung open the door and
stumbled her way across the room.
“Oh, where is he, Betty?” cried the old lady, shuddering with fright.
“Come here, child, quick! Did you see him?”
“Yes, ’m,” said Betty; “he’s in my room”; and she jumped into bed beside
Mrs. Kinsey, who was cold and trembling with fear, and whose teeth
chattered as she whispered: “Oh, can’t we call Pete? I forget which knob
is the burglar-alarm.”
“Why, grandma,” cried Betty, suddenly enlightened, “it _was_n’t a
burglar; it was a _mouse_.”
“A _mouse_! I’ve a good mind to shake you. Betty McGuire, are you crazy,
to make such a fuss over a harmless little mouse? And oh, how you’ve
frightened me!”
“I’m awful sorry,” said Betty, contritely; “but please let me stay. I
_can’t_ go back to my room while that mouse is there. I’d rather see a
bear or a tiger!”
“Stay, of course, child, and go to sleep at once. Thank goodness it
_was_ only a mouse, and not a burglar.” So Betty went to sleep, and
peace settled down upon the house of Denniston.
Next morning Jack was immensely amused over the account of Betty’s
“burglar.” But when Pete heard it, he started off at once for the
village, and returned with mouse-traps of various patents, and a cat.
“Tabby’s” work was quickest and most efficacious, and no more
burglar-mice invaded Betty’s room.