STARTLING DEVELOPMENTS
Chet and Billie were very careful to leave neither doors nor windows
unlocked, and the rest of the week passed without further mishap.
Then one morning came a telegram from their parents saying that they
would be home the next day.
"Goodness, now I have to get busy!" cried Billie, jumping up from the
table in such a hurry that she very nearly upset Chet's coffee cup,
thereby considerably surprising that boy.
"Say, do you think it's catching?" he asked, with a smile. "What's the
matter with you, Billie?"
"Oh, of course you wouldn't understand--you're a boy," remarked his
sister condescendingly, as she put on the becoming dust cap and pulled
some gloves on her hands.
"Don't you see," she added, as Chet continued to stare at her, "that this
house has to be immaculate before mother gets back? I've simply got to
live up to my reputation."
"Never knew you had one," remarked Chet cruelly, as he turned back to
his bacon and eggs with a relieved sigh. "If you need any help," he
offered graciously, as Billie swept out of the room, "just call on me."
"Thank you, I don't," called back Billie, making a face at him over
her shoulder.
And then followed such a whirlwind of sweeping and dusting and throwing
about of furniture that poor Chet was dismayed and was forced to take
refuge on the porch.
However, when Billie, flushed and breathless and very, very pretty, took
him by the arm and led him about to admire her handiwork, he told her
that she was "some wonder."
"Now how about lunch?" he asked, and Billie, appetite sharpened by work,
enthusiastically agreed.
It seemed an eternity to wait until the next morning, but somehow the
time came at last, finding brother and sister on tip-toe with excitement.
Long before it was time to go to meet the train, they were ready and
waiting. Billie was swinging back and forth in the porch swing, grasping
a cushion in each hand to keep her from jumping out, while Chet walked
restlessly up and down.
"If you don't sit down," said Billie so suddenly that her brother jumped,
"I'll just scream."
"Well go ahead, if it will make you feel any better," invited Chet
amiably. However, for the sake of peace he seated himself in one of the
broad armed chairs.
"Isn't it train time yet?" asked Billie, as she had asked many times
during the last fifteen minutes.
"Here," said Chet, handing over his watch, "take this and keep looking at
it. My voice is getting hoarse saying 'no.'"
"But I don't see why we can't go down to the station anyway,"
argued Billie.
"Only that it's about a hundred times more comfortable to wait here."
"But we might miss the train," wailed Billie, and Chet jumped to his feet
with a chuckle.
"Oh, come on," he cried. "We've missed the train several times according
to you. In a minute you will almost have me worried."
"You're a dear old bear," said Billie, snuggling her arm into his as
they set off.
"You certainly do have a way with you, Billie, that gets you what you
want," he admitted, adding meaningly: "Besides, I'm thinking I'd better
keep on the right side of you just now."
"Why?" asked Billie, puzzled.
"In case Aunt Beatrice left you something. You were her namesake,
remember."
Billie glanced up at him, an eager look in her eyes. But her glance fell
again and she shook his arm severely.
"What's the use of raising hopes?" she said dolefully, as a vision of
the broken "Girl Reading a Book" rose reproachfully before her and she
thought longingly of how happy she could be if it were only possible to
replace it.
And there was Three Towers Hall--but she shook off the thought and had
opened her mouth to speak when the sharp blast of an engine whistle made
them jump.
"Chet," she gasped, "it's the train! We mustn't miss it."
"We can make it if we run," said Chet, as he took hold of her arm. "Come
on! No, not that way--the short cut. That's the idea."
Warm and panting they came out upon the station platform just as the
train drew in. They watched the passengers eagerly, but not at first
seeing those they sought, had almost decided that they were coming on a
later train when away down at the end of the platform, Billie espied a
familiar hat.
"There they are! Mother!" she cried, as they came within hailing
distance. "We thought you weren't on the train. Oh, what a fright we
had!"
After the greetings were over Chet and Billie both noticed that their
parents seemed to be in a state of suppressed excitement, and both of
them wondered.
However, they had too much to talk about just then to do much wondering
about anything, and they walked slowly toward home, asking and answering
a very flood of questions.
Mrs. Bradley wanted to know how Billie had got along without her, at
which both Chet and Billie tried to tell the story of Nellie Bane's
collie at the same time and in the same breath.
When they had finished Mr. Bradley chuckled, but Mrs. Bradley
looked grave.
"It happened to be funny," she said. "But it might have been very
serious. I hope you were careful after that."
"Were we!" they cried, and Billie added with a laugh: "We locked and
double locked all the windows and doors, and if it hadn't been for Chet I
would have piled furniture against the doors. But we want to know what
you've been doing," she cried, turning to her mother eagerly. "Tell us,
please, quick. We've been waiting so long."
Again Mr. Bradley laughed and pinched his impatient young
daughter's cheek.
"I think our news can wait till we get to the house," he said.
"But _I_ can't," protested Billie.
"Anybody would think you really expected to hear something," chuckled Mr.
Bradley, who seemed to be enjoying himself immensely over something.
"Oh, please," begged Billie, almost beside herself with impatience by
this time--and Chet, in his quiet way, was just as bad. There was
something about their mother's and father's manner that told them
something was in the wind.
"I'm just dying by inches," went on Billie.
But this time it was Mrs. Bradley who interrupted.
"Here we are at home, dear," she said. "Can't you give Dad and me a
chance to rest, and give us perhaps a cup of tea--"
"Oh, I'm a selfish old beast!" said Billie penitently. "I might have
known you would be terribly tired after that long train ride!"
And still scolding herself she hurried them before her into the house and
flew to find Debbie. She had not far to go, however, for Debbie was just
lumbering, like a good-natured elephant, through the hall to greet her
master and mistress. As soon as the greetings were over she lumbered back
again to make the necessary tea.
Billie and Chet controlled their impatience, answering the questions
their mother had to ask them about all that had happened while they had
been away, for Mrs. Bradley had been anxious.
When they finally left the table and Mrs. Bradley led the way back into
the library, Billie uttered a long sigh of relief.
"Well," said Mrs. Bradley, and they leaned forward eagerly, "we found
that what we always supposed about the amount of money Aunt Beatrice had
was right. She left only a few thousand, and that--queer soul that she
was--she left to a missionary society."
"Oh!" cried Billie, and it must be admitted that she both felt and
looked horribly disappointed. She had not known just how much she had
hoped, both for herself and for Chet, until this moment. And Chet, poor
fellow, felt just as bad, although he showed it less.
"Then she didn't leave anything either to you or Dad?" Chet asked.
"No. But she did leave something to you and Billie," was Mrs. Bradley's
startling announcement.
Billie and Chet looked at one another as if to be sure that they had
heard aright.
"You say she left us something?" cried Billie breathlessly.
"Yes. But don't let your hopes run away with you," Mr. Bradley warned
them, "for it wasn't very much."
"Oh, tell us," the two commanded eagerly and in unison.
"She left a gold watch to Chet," Mrs. Bradley told them. "It is really a
very beautiful watch, Chet, and worth a good deal of money. And to
Billie--" She paused for emphasis and Billie wriggled impatiently. "And
to Billie she left her rambling old homestead at Cherry Corners."
"A homestead at Cherry Corners!" gasped Billie, unable to believe her
ears while Chet looked interested. "What sort of a house is it, Mother?"
"I haven't been there for a number of years," replied her mother,
knitting her brows in an effort to recall the details of Billie's queer
inheritance. "As I remember it, it is an old-fashioned rambling affair.
It must have been considered rather handsome in its palmy years, and it
has been in the Powerson family for generations. In fact, I believe it
dates back to revolutionary days. It has great large rooms, and rather
spooky, dark hallways. I'm afraid I wasn't very much impressed with it
the first time I saw it," she finished, with a smile.
"Wh-what a funny thing to leave me," said Billie, her eyes big and round
with wonder. Then she added, without thinking--as Billie always did: "Oh,
don't I wish she had left me a hundred dollars instead! It would have
been much more useful!"