VINNIE'S FUTURE HOME.
A lively sensation was produced, the next forenoon, when a youth and a
girl, in a one-horse wagon, with a big dog and a small trunk, arrived at
Lord Betterson's "castle."
Link dashed into the house, screaming, "They've come! they've come!"
"Who has come?" gasped poor Mrs. Betterson, with a start of alarm,
glancing her eye about the disordered room.
"Jack What's-his-name! the fellow that shot the deer and lost his horse.
It's Aunt Lavinny with him, I bet!"
And out the boy rushed again, to greet the new-comers.
Lill, who was once more washing dishes at the table, stepped down from
her stool, and ran out too, drying her fingers on her apron by the way.
Five-year-old Chokie got up from his holes in the earth by the doorstep,
and stood with dangling hands and sprawling fingers, grinning,
dirty-faced.
Vinnie, springing to the ground with Jack's help, at the side door
caught Lill in her arms, and gave her an ardent kiss.
"I have heard of you!" she said; for she had recognized the bright,
wistful face.
"Dear auntie!" said the child, with tears and smiles of joy, "I'm so
glad you've come!"
"Here is Link--my friend Link," said Jack. "Don't overlook him."
"I've heard a good deal about you too, Link!" said Vinnie, embracing him
also, but not quite so impulsively.
"Ye needn't mind kissing me!" said Link, bashfully turning his face.
"And as for him,"--as she passed on to the five-year-old,--"that's
Chokie; he's a reg'lar prairie gopher for digging holes; you won't find
a spot on him big as a sixpence clean enough to kiss, I bet ye two
million dollars!"
[Illustration: LINK DOESN'T CARE TO BE KISSED.]
Vinnie did not accept the wager, convinced, probably, that she would
lose it if she did. As she bent over the child, however, the report of a
kiss was heard,--a sort of shot in the air, not designed to come very
near the mark.
"I'm didding a well," said Chokie, in a solemn voice, "so the boys won't
have to go to the spring for water."
Mrs. Betterson tottered to the door, convulsively wrapping her red shawl
about her.
"Lavinia! Is it sister Lavinia?"
At sight of her, so pale and feeble, Vinnie was much affected. She could
hardly speak; but, supporting the emaciated form in her strong,
embracing arms, she led her back into the house.
"You are so good to come!" said Mrs. Betterson, weeping, as she sank in
her chair. "I am worse than when I wrote to you; and the baby is no
better; and Cecie--poor Cecie! though she can sit up but little, she
does more than any of us for the sick little thing."
Vinnie turned to the lounge, where Cecie, with the baby in her arms, lay
smiling with bright, moist eyes upon the new-comer. She bent over and
kissed them both; and, at sight of the puny infant,--so pitiful a
contrast to Mrs. Lanman's fair and healthy child,--she felt her heart
contract with grief and her eyes fill.
Then, as she turned away with an effort at self-control, and looked
about the room, she must have noticed, too, the painful contrast between
Jack's home and this, which was to be hers; and have felt a sinking of
the heart, which it required all her strength and courage to overcome.
"We are not looking fit to be seen; I know it, Lavinia!" sighed Mrs.
Betterson. "But you'll excuse it--you've already excused so many things
in the past! It seems a dreadful, unnatural thing for _our_ family to be
so--so very--yet don't think we are absolutely reduced, Lavinia. Mr.
Betterson's connections, as everybody knows, are very wealthy and
aristocratic, and they are sure to do something for him soon. This is my
husband, sister Lavinia." And, with a faint simper of satisfaction, she
looked up at a person who just then entered from an adjoining room.
He was a tall, well-made man, who looked (Vinnie could not help
thinking) quite capable of doing something for himself. He might have
been called fine-looking, but that his fine looks, like his gentility,
of which he made a faded show in his dress and manners, appeared to have
gone somewhat to seed. He greeted Vinnie with polite condescension, said
a few commonplace words, settled his dignified chin in his limp dicky,
which was supported by a high, tight stock (much frayed about the
edges), and went on out of the house.
"Now you have seen him!" whispered Mrs. Betterson, as if it had been a
great event in Vinnie's life. "Very handsome, and perfectly well-bred,
as you observe. Not at all the kind of man to be neglected by his
family, aristocratic as they are; do you think he is? Yes, my dear
Lavinia," she added, with a sickly smile, "you have seen a real, live
Betterson!"
These evidences of a foolish pride surviving affliction made poor Vinnie
more heartsick than anything else; and for a moment the brave girl was
almost overcome with discouragement.
In the meanwhile the real, live Betterson walked out into the yard,
where Jack--who had not cared to follow Vinnie into the house--was
talking with Link.
"Will you walk in, sir?" And the stately Betterson neck bent slightly in
its stiff stock.
"No, I thank you," replied Jack. "But I suppose this trunk goes in."
"Ah! to be sure. Lincoln,"--with a wave of the aristocratic Betterson
hand,--"show the young man where to put the trunk. He can take it to
Cecie's room."
"I can, can I? That's a privilege!" thought Jack. He was perfectly
willing to be a porter, or anything else, in a good cause; and it was a
delight for him to do Vinnie a service; but why did the noble Betterson
stand there and give directions about the trunk, in that pompous way,
instead of taking hold of one end of it? Jack, who had a lively spirit,
and a tongue of his own, was prompted to say something sarcastic, but he
wisely forbore.
"I'll place it here for the present," he said, and set the trunk down by
the doorstep. He thought it would be better for him to see Vinnie and
bid her good-by a little later, after the meeting between the sisters
should be well over; so he turned to Link, and asked where his big
brothers were.
"I d'n' know," said Link; "guess they're down in the lot hunting prairie
hens."
"Let's go and find 'em," said Jack.
Both Link and Lion were delighted with this proposal, and they set off
in high glee, boy and dog capering at each side of the more steady-going
Jack.