“TRYING SISTERS”
When Tillie Fenn was invited to Denniston for a week, she accepted with
delight, for she and Betty were great chums, and Denniston Hall was the
loveliest place in the world to visit. So, one autumn afternoon, Betty,
Polly, and Jack were on the veranda waiting for the visitor.
Soon she came bundling in with a bird-cage in one hand and a huge
traveling-bag in the other. “I had to bring my canary-bird,” she
explained, “for mother said she wouldn’t take care of him if I left him
at home; you don’t mind, do you, Mrs. Kinsey?”
“Not at all, my dear,” said Grandma Jean, kindly; “we’ll have him in the
dining-room, to make music for us while we’re at table.”
“My trunk is coming over soon,” continued Tillie. “I brought all my
clothes, for I didn’t know what ones I’d want; and I brought a lot of my
little traps in this satchel.”
“All right,” said Betty, feeling very sisterly; “come and let’s put them
away.”
Betty had decided to have Tillie room with her; for half the fun of
having a sister would be in the cozy chats night and morning, and the
confidences that are only possible between sisters who share the same
room.
She had emptied half the bureau drawers and half the pegs and shelves in
her dressing-room, and was ready to help arrange Tillie’s belongings.
But she was a little dismayed at the hodgepodge she saw when Tillie
opened her bag. Brushes, combs, ribbons, handkerchiefs, were all in a
grand jumble. But Tillie seemed to think they were all right, and dumped
them into the places set apart for her, brushed her hair with Betty’s
hair-brush, and said she was ready to go down-stairs.
Then they had a game of tennis and a drive with Dixie, and Tillie was so
entertaining and good-natured that Betty began to think she had found a
real sister. But she had promised Mr. Dick not to speak of that plan
until she had tried it a week, and so she treated Tillie as a temporary
guest.
Jack was pleased with the visitor, too, and they had a merry time at
supper, and spent a jolly evening with music and games; and then the two
girls went up-stairs with their arms round each other.
“Oh, there’s my trunk,” said Tillie, as they entered Betty’s pretty
room. “I’ll have my things out in a jiffy.”
She did, too, and in a few minutes the floor was strewn with dresses,
shoes, and hats.
“Tillie!” exclaimed Betty, in dismay, “_don’t_ throw things around so;
wait, I’ll help you fold them.”
[Illustration: “BETTY, POLLY, AND JACK WERE ON THE VERANDA WAITING FOR
THE VISITOR.”]
“Oh, no, this will do,” said Tillie, and she jumbled some into the
bureau drawers, and threw others on the shelves.
“Half of the top of the dressing-table is for you,” explained Betty, who
was a very tidy little body, and loved to have things in order. “I laid
this blue ribbon across it to divide it evenly. And you’ll keep your
brushes and trays on your own side, won’t you?”
“Yes,” said Tillie; “I’ll try to. But I’m awful careless. Mother scolds
me about it, but I tell her scolding makes me worse.”
Betty didn’t scold, but it _was_ a trial to her to have brushes, belts,
gloves, soiled collars or handkerchiefs, flung about everywhere. Tillie
also appropriated such of Betty’s possessions as took her fancy, and
when she returned them they were usually damaged in some way.
So that, when the week was half gone, Betty had come to the conclusion
that, although Tillie was a merry, good-natured companion, and just the
one for a chum, she was by no means the right kind of a sister.
But in many ways Tillie was a charming little guest, and the two girls
had a royal good time all the week. They had picnics and tea-parties and
entertainments of some kind or other every afternoon, though the
mornings were spent in the school-room, as usual.
Altogether, as a candidate for the new position to be filled at
Denniston Hall, Tillie was not a success; and as Betty could still have
her for a chum and intimate friend, she was not sorry when the week was
up, and Tillie jumbled her clothes into her trunk, took her bird-cage
and satchel, and departed. She was so sorry to leave, and thanked Betty
and Grandma Jean so sincerely for the pleasure they had given her, that
Betty felt almost guilty when she thought of the secret with Mr. Dick.
But she was truly glad that Tillie had enjoyed herself, and resolved to
invite her again some time in the future.
Then she went to put her room in order, with a feeling of relief that it
would not immediately be turned topsy-turvy again.
“Well, Popinjay,” said Mr. Dick, who came over to Denniston a day or two
later, and found Betty alone on the veranda, “how did the experiment
go?”
“Oh, it was a failure,” said Betty, “and I’m glad she didn’t stay with
me all her life before she stayed a week.”
Mr. Dick laughed.
“Mr. Mixon hasn’t taught all the Irish out of your speech yet, has he?
Walk down to the orchard with me, and tell me all about the experiment.”
Betty was soon ready, and they set out.
“Now what do you propose to do next?” asked Mr. Van Court, on the way.
“Well, sir, I hope you won’t laugh, but I’m going to ask a whole lot of
girls to Denniston Hall—not for a week, maybe, but for three or four
days, and see if any of them are the kind I’d like to have to be my true
sister.”
“But these girls have homes of their own; they couldn’t come and live
with you.”
“I know it, sir, but I just want to see if I’d want any of them. If not,
then I’d be better satisfied, knowing I don’t want any sister. But if
some of them are just the kind I mean, then I’ll keep on trying.”
“Betty, you ought to have been a general, your plans are so deep and so
well laid. Go ahead, my child, and if you want help at any time,
remember who’s your friend.”
* * * * *
So Betty invited ten girls to come all at once, and stay from Wednesday
till Saturday; and they nearly turned Denniston Hall inside out and
upside down. Jack threatened to take to the woods; but that was only a
joke, for he really enjoyed the unusual commotion in the house.
Grandma Jean proved herself quite equal to the occasion. Extra leaves
were put in the dining-table, and extra help engaged in the kitchen, and
the house ran along as smoothly as ever. None of the guests had any idea
they were being critically observed, and, indeed, very often Betty
forgot it was more than an ordinary frolic.
And it was a jolly frolic. Such capers as those girls cut, such pranks
they played on each other, and such laughing and giggling over nothing
at all!
By utilizing the third story of Denniston Hall the girls were provided
with sleeping-rooms without being crowded. Betty, however, slept on the
couch in her own room, while Tillie Fenn and Agnes Miller occupied her
bed.
One morning she was awakened by a shriek from Agnes, followed by a
series of yells from Tillie. “Don’t get up,” they screamed, “but look
over there on the floor.”
Betty looked, and there was a spider, the largest one she had ever seen.
Now, Betty’s fear of spiders was only exceeded by her dread of mice; but
in her position of hostess she felt she must overcome her own feelings,
and save her guests from annoyance.
So, reaching for her shoe, she threw it at the spider, but failed to hit
him. Then she threw the other shoe, with no better success. And then
Tillie and Agnes threw their shoes, and finally hit the spider so he lay
motionless in a crumpled heap. Then Betty rose, and took a heavy
bath-towel and threw it over the spider.
“Drown him!” cried Tillie; “he may not be dead yet”; and she turned
water into the wash-bowl, and Betty grabbed up the towel and dropped the
spider in.
Immediately the water was stained crimson, and the girls turned away
from the horrid sight. Then there was a roar of laughter outside, and
eight girls came bouncing in to crow over their victims.
“It was a paper spider!” cried May Fordham. “I did it; I knew you’d be
scared. That red is the paint coming off!”
“You’ll catch it for that!” exclaimed Tillie; and she clutched the
luckless May, tumbled her on the couch, and piled blankets and pillows
on her until she was nearly suffocated.
[Illustration: “BETTY LOOKED, AND THERE WAS A SPIDER.”]
A grand pillow-fight and general scramble followed, and at last Betty
had to “shoo” the girls to their rooms to get ready for breakfast.
This was Saturday, the last day of the house-party, and the girls were
to go on a picnic to the “Panther’s Den,” a small natural cave about
five miles away.
They all clambered into a big wagon, over which Pete presided. Bill
followed with a wagon-load of provisions of Ellen’s best make, from
sandwiches to ice-cream; and Jack was to bring Grandma Jean, Polly, and
Lisa over in the surrey later.
The rollicking crowd of girls joked and sang as they rode along. After
they had reached the mountain road, they passed a tree with a huge
sign-board on it, which read: “Beware of Indians!”
“Pooh!” said Betty, “there aren’t any Indians around here.”
But as they went on many other trees bore rude pictures of tomahawks and
splashes of red paint.
Some of the timid girls were for turning back; but the others laughed at
them, and told them not to be “fraid-cats.”
They reached the Panther’s Den in safety, and Pete lifted each one down
from the high wagon. Just as the last girl was landed on the ground, a
fearful war-whoop sounded from the Den, and a dozen wild Indians in
war-paint and feathers rushed out, brandishing shining knives, and
yelling like mad. Some of the girls screamed; but in a moment they
discovered the warlike tribe to be composed of their own brothers and
friends.
Jack had concocted the Indian scheme, and though the girls had planned
for a real “girl picnic,” they were not sorry to have their plans
changed, and soon after that the Indians and their white captives sat
down amicably together and ate the picnic feast. Then the “Indians” gave
wonderful exhibitions of their prowess in wrestling and acrobatic feats.
Before sundown they all went back to Denniston, for that evening the
girls were to go to their respective homes.
They said good-by with real regret, and each went away thinking that
Betty McGuire was the most fortunate girl in the world.
Sunday afternoon Mr. Van Court drove over to Denniston to see Betty and
have one of their confidential talks about the experiment. It was a
lovely day, so they went for a row on the little pond, and after a few
strokes Mr. Dick rested on his oars and said:
“How many sisters are you going to buy, Popinjay?”
Betty looked at him thoughtfully from under her shade-hat.
“Mr. Dick,” she said, “it’s no use; they’re nice girls, and we had good
fun, but I don’t want any of them to live with me.”
“That’s right, Betty; I don’t believe you do. Your family is large
enough, and as you grow older and make more friends, and have more
varied interests, you won’t feel the loneliness that troubles you now.”
[Illustration: “A DOZEN WILD INDIANS IN WAR-PAINT AND FEATHERS RUSHED
OUT.”]
“No, Mr. Dick; it isn’t friends I want. I know what it is—it’s
relations. I want somebody that’s my own kin, and has reason to care
something about me. You take an interest in Miss Grace and Miss Margaret
and your mother because they are your mother and sisters.”
“That’s so, by Jove! I never thought much about it before, but I believe
you’re right; and I say, Betty, you are alone in the world as far as
real relatives go, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am; and I’m going to try to find some one of my father’s or my
mother’s folks.”
“How are you going about it?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I’m thinking I’ll write to Mr. Morris, and
see does he know anything about my people in Ireland, or, better yet, my
mother’s family in this country.”
“Do it, Popinjay; that’s a good idea; and you may be descended from the
illustrious O’Flannigans of county Galway, or you may be only a scion of
the humble house of Stuyvesant or Knickerbocker over here. But it takes
a long time to get a letter to Australia and back, and in the meantime I
hope you’re not going to mope around like a lame duck, and be
discontented and blue, when you’ve so much to make you happy.”
“No, sir, I won’t. For now I’ve decided that I don’t want any more in my
family until I find a real cousin, or something of my own blood kin. And
so I’ll bide my time and rest easy until I can find out about them.”
“Well, cheer up, chick, and romp with Polly, and study with Jack, and
work hard at your music, and soon you’ll be able to accompany my violin,
and we’ll play famous duets. And, Betty, do you like sailing?”
“I don’t know, sir; I never tried it.”
“Well, I’ve just bought a new cat-boat, and she’s a beauty. She’ll come
home this week, and then you can go with us on her trial trip, and try a
taste of a life on the ocean wave.”