THE ARRIVAL
In the dark and somewhat sombre library at Dana Dene, Miss Rachel and
Miss Abbie sat awaiting their guests. The room might have been called
gloomy, but for the sunshine that edged in through the long, narrow,
slit-like windows, and made determined golden bars across the dark-red
carpet. Both the Misses Dana showed clearly their anxiety to have the
children arrive and end their suspense.
“If only they’re tidy children,” said Miss Rachel for the fiftieth time;
and Miss Abbie responded, as she always did, “Yes, and quiet-mannered.”
Miss Rachel Dana was of rather spare build, and sharp features. Her
brown hair, only slightly tinged with grey, was deftly arranged, and
every curled lock in its right place. Her pretty house-dress of dark
blue foulard silk, with white figures, was modishly made and carefully
fitted.
Miss Abbie was a little more plump, and her gown was of a shade lighter
blue, though otherwise much like her sister’s.
The ladies had a patient air, as if they had waited long, but though
they now and then glanced at the clock, they expressed no surprise at
the delayed arrival. Trains were apt to be late at Heatherton, and they
knew Michael would return as soon as possible. They had not gone
themselves to the station to meet the twins, for it had seemed to them
more dignified and fitting to receive their young relatives in their own
home. Meantime, the young relatives were drawing nearer, and now, quite
forgetting their own untidy appearance, their thoughts had turned to the
waiting aunts, and the welcome they would probably receive.
“I don’t believe they’ll be as nice as Aunty Helen,” said Dick,
candidly, “but I hope they’ll be jolly and gay.”
“I hope they’ll like us,” said Dolly, a little wistfully. She had always
missed a mother’s love more than Dick had, and her affectionate little
heart hoped to find in these aunties a certain tenderness that merry
Aunt Helen had not possessed.
Dick eyed his sister critically. “I don’t believe they will,” he said,
honestly, “until we get some clean clothes on. I say, Dollums, we look
like scarecrows.”
“So we do!” said Dolly, fairly aghast as she realised the state of her
costume. “Oh, Dick, can’t we get dressed up before we see them?”
“’Course we can’t. Our trunks and bags haven’t come yet; and, anyway,
they’ll probably be on the porch or somewhere, to meet us. Buck up,
Dolly; don’t you mind. You’re just as nice that way.”
“Is my face dirty?”
“Not so much dirty,—as red and scratched. How _did_ you get so chopped
up?”
“It was those briers. You went over, but I went through.”
“I should say you did! Well, I don’t believe they’ll mind your looks.
And, anyway, they’ll have to get used to it; you ’most always look like
that.”
This was cold comfort, and Dolly’s feminine heart began to feel that
their appearance would be greatly in their disfavour.
But she was of a sanguine nature, and, too, she was apt to devise
expedients.
“I’ll tell you, Dick,” she said, as an idea came to her; “you know, ‘a
soft answer turneth away wrath’; no,—I guess I mean ‘charity covereth a
multitude of sins.’ Yes, that’s it. And charity is love, you know. So
when we see the aunties, let’s spring into their arms and kiss ’em and
love ’em ’most to death, and then they won’t notice our clothes.”
“All right, that goes. Let me see,—yes, your face is clean,”—Dick made
a dab or two at it with his handkerchief. “How’s mine?”
“Yes, it’s clean,” said Dolly, “at least, there aren’t any smudges; but
you’d better wash it before supper.”
“All right, I will. Here we go now, turning in at the gate. Be ready to
jump out and fly at them if they’re on the porch.”
They weren’t on the porch, so the twins went in at the great front door,
which was opened for them by a smiling maid, whose smile broadened as
she saw them. Then, repressing her smile, she ushered them to the
library door and into the presence of the two waiting aunts.
“Now!” whispered Dick, and with a mad rush, the two flew across the room
like whirlwinds and fairly _banged_ themselves into the arms of Miss
Rachel and Miss Abbie Dana.
This sudden onslaught was followed by a series of hugs and kisses which
were of astonishing strength and duration.
What Miss Rachel and Miss Abbie thought can never be known, for they had
no power of thought. Victims of a volcanic visitation do not think,—at
least, not coherently, and the Dana ladies were quite helpless, both
mentally and physically.
“Dear Auntie,” cooed Dolly, patting the cheek of the one she had
attacked, though not knowing her name; “are you glad to see us?”
Miss Rachel stared stupidly at her, but the stare was not reassuring,
and Dolly’s heart fell.
“Jolly glad to get here,” cried Dick, loyally trying to carry out
Dolly’s plan, as he nearly choked the breath out of the other aunt. Miss
Abbie had a little more sense of humour than her sister,—though neither
of them was over-burdened with it,—so she said to Dick:
“Then do stop pommeling me, and stand off where I can see what you look
like!”
But this was just what Dick was not anxious to do. So he only clung
closer, and said, “Dear Auntie, which is your name?”
“I’m your Aunt Abbie,” was the response, not too gently given, “and now
stand up, if you please, and stop these monkey-tricks!”
Of course, since she put it that way, Dick had to desist, and he
released his struggling aunt, and bravely stood up for inspection.
Miss Rachel, too, had pushed Dolly away from her, and the twins stood,
hand in hand, waiting for the verdict. It was an awful moment. The
physical exertion of the manner they had chosen of greeting their aunts
had made their flushed little faces still redder, and the scratches
stood out in bold relief.
Also, their soiled and torn garments looked worse in this elegantly
appointed room even than they had in the woods or in the carriage.
Altogether the twins felt that their plan of defence had failed, and
they were crestfallen, shy, homesick, and pretty miserable all ’round.
But the funny part was, that the plan hadn’t failed. Though the aunts
never admitted it, both their hearts were softened by the feeling of
those little arms round their necks, and those vigorous, if grimy kisses
that fell, irrespectively, on their cheeks, necks, or lace collars.
Had it not been for this tornado of affection, the greeting would have
been far different. But one cannot speak coldly to a guest who shows
such warmth of demonstration.
“Well, you _are_ a pretty-looking pair!” exclaimed Miss Rachel, veiling
her real disapproval behind a semblance of jocularity. “Do you always
travel in ragged, dirty clothes?”
“No, Aunt Rachel,” said Dick, feeling he must make a strike for justice;
“at least, we don’t start out this way. But you see, we had hardly ever
seen a brook before——”
“And it was so lovely!” put in Dolly, ecstatically.
“And wild flowers to it!” cried Dick, his eyes shining with the joy of
the remembrance.
“And pebbly stones!”
“And ripply water!”
“And birds, flying in big bunches!”
“Oh, but it was splendid!”
“And so you went to the brook,” said Aunt Rachel, beginning to see
daylight.
“Yes’m; on the way up from the station, you know.”
“Did Michael go with you?”
“No; he sat and held the horses, and hollered for us to come back.”
“Why didn’t you go when he called you?”
“Why, we did; at least, we went in a minute. But, Aunt Rachel, we never
had seen a real live brook before, not since we were little bits of
kiddy-wids,—and we just couldn’t bear to leave it.”
“We waded in it!” said Dolly, almost solemnly, as if she had referred to
the highest possible earthly bliss.
The Dana ladies were nonplussed. True, the affection showered on them
had tempered their severity, yet now justice began to reassert itself,
and surely it would not be just or fair to have these semi-barbaric
children installed at Dana Dene.
“Did your aunt in Chicago let you act like this?” asked Aunt Abbie, by
way of trying to grasp the situation.
“Well, you see, there never was a brook there,” said Dick, pleasantly.
“Only Lake Michigan, and that was too big to be any fun.”
“Oh, isn’t Heatherton lovely?” exclaimed Dolly, her big, dark eyes full
of rapture.
She had again possessed herself of Miss Rachel’s hand and was patting
it, and incidentally transfering some “good, brown earth” to it, from
her own little paw.
Though Dolly had planned their mode of entrance, she had forgotten all
about it now, and her affectionate demonstrations were prompted only by
her own loving little heart, and not by an effort to be tactful.
In her enthusiasm over the beautiful country-side, she fairly bubbled
over with love and affection for all about her.
“Are you both so fond of the country, then?” said Miss Abbie, a little
curiously.
“Yes, we love it,” declared Dick, “and we’ve ’most never seen it. Auntie
Helen always liked fashionable places in summer, and of course in winter
we were in Chicago.”
“And we were naughty,” said Dolly, with a sudden burst of contrition,
“to go wading in the brook in our good clothes. Mrs. Halkett told us
_’spressly_ not to get soiled or even rumpled before we saw you. And
we’re sorry we did,—but, oh! that brook! When can we go there again?
To-morrow?”
“Or this afternoon,” said Dick, sidling up to Aunt Rachel; “it isn’t
late, is it?”
The twins had instinctively discerned that Miss Rachel was the one of
whom to ask permission. Aunt Abbie seemed more lovable, perhaps, but
without a doubt Aunt Rachel was the fixer of their fate.
“This afternoon! I should say not!” exclaimed Miss Rachel. “It’s nearly
supper time now, and how you’re going to be made presentable is more
than I know! Have you any other clothes?”
“In our trunks,—lots of ’em,” said Dick, cheerfully. “But these are our
best ones. Mrs. Halkett put them on us purpose to come to you. I’m sorry
they’re smashed.”
Dick’s sorrow was expressed in such blithe and nonchalant tones, that
Miss Rachel only smiled grimly.
“Are you hungry?” she said.
“No’m,” said Dick, slowly, and Dolly added, “Not _very_. Of course we’re
always _some_ hungry. But Aunt Rachel, can’t we go out and scoot round
the yard? Just to see what it’s like, you know. Of course, this room
is,—beautiful, but we do love to be out doors. May we?”
“No,” said Miss Rachel, decidedly, and though Miss Abbie said, timidly,
“Why don’t you let them?” the elder sister resumed:
“Go out on my lawn looking like that? Indeed you can’t! I’d be ashamed
to have the chickens see you,—let alone the servants!”
“Oh, are there chickens?” cried Dolly, dancing about in excitement. “I’m
_so_ glad we’re going to live here!”
She made a movement as if to hug her Aunt Rachel once again, but as she
saw the involuntary drawing away of that lady’s shoulders, she
transferred her caress to Dick, and the tattered twins fell on each
other’s necks in mutual joy of anticipation.
“You are a ridiculous pair of children,” said Aunt Abbie, laughing at
the sight; “but as I hope you’ll show some of your father’s traits, you
may improve under our training.”
“If we can train such hopeless cases,” said Miss Rachel. “Has nobody
ever taught you how to behave?”
“Yes,” said Dick, growing red at the implication. “Auntie Helen is a
lovely lady, and she taught us to be honourable and polite.”
“Oh, she did! and do you call it honourable to go off wading in your
best clothes, while we were waiting for you to come here?”
Dick’s honest little face looked troubled.
“I don’t know,” he said, truly, but Dolly, who was often the
quicker-witted of the two, spoke up:
“It may have been naughty, Aunt Rachel, but I don’t ’zackly think it was
dishonourable. Do you?” Thus pinned down, Miss Rachel considered.
“Perhaps ‘dishonourable’ isn’t quite the right word,” she said, “but we
won’t discuss that now. I shall teach you to behave properly, of course,
but we won’t begin until you look like civilised beings, capable of
being taught. Just now, I think hot baths, with plenty of soap, will be
the best thing for you, but as you have no clean clothes, you’ll have to
go to bed.”
“At five o’clock! Whew!” said Dick. “Oh, I say, Aunt Rachel, not to
bed!”
“Anyway, let us go for a tear around the yard first,” begged Dolly. “We
can’t hurt these clothes now; and I don’t believe the chickens will
mind. Are there _little_ chickens, Aunt Abbie?”
“Yes, little woolly yellow ones.”
“Like the ones on Easter souvenirs? Oh, _please_ let us see them
now,—_please_!”
More persuaded by the violence of her niece’s plea than by her own
inclination, Miss Rachel said they might go out for half an hour, and
then they must come in to baths and beds.
“And supper?” asked Dick, hopefully.
“Yes, bread and milk after you’re clean and tucked into bed.”
“_Only_ bread and milk?” said Dolly, with eyes full of wheedlesomeness.
“Well, perhaps jam,” said Aunt Abbie, smiling, and somehow her smile
augured even more than jam. Out they scampered then, and soon found
Michael, who introduced them to the chickens and also to Pat, who was
the gardener.
“I like you,” said Dolly, slipping her little hand into Pat’s big one,
both being equally grimy. “Please show us all the flowers and things.”
There was so much to look at, they could only compass a small part of it
in their allotted half-hour. Dana Dene covered about thirty acres, but
it was not a real farm. A vegetable garden supplied the household wants,
and the rest of the estate was park and flower beds and a bit of woods
and an orchard and a terrace, and the poultry yard and stables, and
other delights of which the children could only guess.
“Aren’t you glad we came?” said Dolly, still hanging on to Pat’s hand.
“I—I guess so, Miss,” he replied, cautiously; “but I can’t say yet, for
sure. Ye’re rampageous, I’m afraid. Ain’t ye, now?”
“Yes,” said Dick, who was always honest, “I think we are. At least,
everybody says so. But, Pat, we’re going to try not to make you any
trouble.”
“Now, that’s a good boy. If ye talk like that, you ’n me’ll be friends.”
Dolly said nothing, but she smiled happily up into Patrick’s kind eyes,
and then, with their usual adaptability to circumstances, the twins
began to feel at home.