BNIV. OF CALIF. LIBRARY. LOfi
[See p. 220
"BETTY HAMILTON, FOLLOWED BY BROWNIE, APPROACHED THROUGH
THE WOODS"
Miss BETTY
OF NEW YORK
BY
ELLEN DOUGLAS DELANO
AUTHOR OF
"A LITTLE SON OF SUNSHINE "
"OAKLKIGH" ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY
RACHAEL ROBINSON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
The Girls' Library
Illustrated — Jackets Printed in Colors
MAY IVERSON — HER BOOK. By Elizabeth Jordan
MAY IVERSON TACKLES LIFE. By Elizabeth Jordan
MAY IVERSON'S CAREER. By Elizabeth Jordan
OAKLEIGH. By Ellen Douglas Deland
ALAN RANSFORD. By Ellen Douglas Deland
JOSEPHINE. By Ellen Douglas Deland
IN THE OLD HERRICK HOUSE. By Ellen Douglas Deland
A LITTLE SON OF SUNSHINE. By Ellen Douglas Deland
Miss BETTY OF NEW YORK. By Ellen Douglas Deland
LIBERTY HALL. By Florence Hull Winterburn
BETTY BELL. By Fannie Kilbourne
REBECCA MARY. By Annie Hamilton Donnell
Copyright, 1908, by HARPBR & BROTHERS.
C-Z
ILLUSTRATIONS
"BETTY HAMILTON, FOLLOWED BY BROWNIE, AP-
PROACHED THROUGH THE WOODS " . . . Frontitpiece
'"I'LL GIVE YOU THE NICEST NAME I CAN THINK
OP, DEAREST/ HE WHISPERED7' . . . . facing p. 96
" ' THEY ARE INDIANS PLANNING TO SCALP AND
MASSACRE US'" " 150
"*I SHALL ALWAYS WEAR IT ALL MY LIFE LONG,'
SHE SAID" " 280
2129067
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
MISS BETTY
OF NEW YORK
remember, Christopher. Ten blocks
down and then turn and walk back. Don't
leave Madison Avenue. Straight down and
straight back. You understand?"
"Oh yes, I understand, grandfather."
"I feel strongly inclined to send Thomas with
you."
"Oh, grandfather ! Please, please don't. Please
let me go alone ! I can perfectly well. I will do
just as you say, only I do so want to go alone!"
"I cannot imagine why. Thomas could walk
behind you. Surely you do not dislike Thomas ?"
"Oh no! I like him. But I do want to go
alone. And you said I could, grandfather. You
promised."
"So I did. Well, go."
In a moment the front door closed and Chris-
3
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
topher Lovel started on his first walk alone in the
streets of New York.
He was a boy of eleven or twelve years old, and
he lived with his grandfather, General Baldwin
Keith. His father and mother were dead, and
he had no other near relatives. He had not
always lived with his grandfather. In fact, until
the preceding summer he had not even known
him, for the General had not approved of his
daughter's marriage, and during Christopher's
early childhood he had not even seen him. Now,
however, he loved him dearly, and with such
strength of affection that he would scarcely allow
him out of his sight. The boy was lame, and this
fact made the grandfather still more careful of
him. But as he walked down Madison Avenue,
except for the fact that he carried a cane, his
lameness was scarcely noticeable. He had been
injured by an accident several years ago, but the
crutches which he had been obliged to use were
now no longer necessary, and no one would have
imagined that the boy had but one leg.
He was a tall boy, but with a face that was sin-
gularly childlike for one of his age. His hair was
fair and his eyes were blue, and their expression
was so friendly, his face so sunny, that more than
one person who passed him turned to look at him
a second tune.
It was a beautiful day in early spring. There
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
had been rain during the night, but now the sun
was shining, and in the parks and squares the grass
had turned green, and small beginnings of buds
could be discovered on trees and bushes. A long
double procession of carriages, automobiles, and
wagons passed up and down the avenue, with the
rumble and roar that are never absent from the
streets of New York. On the sidewalks there
was another double procession of persons walking,
though not in such close ranks. But there was
life and movement everywhere, and Chris rejoiced
in being part of it.
"I wish I could meet Betty Hamilton," he
thought. "Oh, I just wish I could meet her, or
see her in a window or something! She lives on
Madison Avenue; I remember that. I suppose
grandfather knows the number, but if I had
asked him what it was he would have told me I
couldn't go there. It is so funny grandfather
doesn't like to have me go with other children.
I do wish I could find Betty, though. I'll ask
Cousin Ludovic when I see him."
As if in answer to his thought, a girl came
running across the street from the opposite side
of the way, dodging beneath horses' heads, and
behind and in front of puffing automobiles, in a
manner only possible to a resident of New York.
She was followed by an elderly woman, whose
face wore an expression of protest, although she
5
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
was too far behind for her words to be heard
above the din of traffic. The girl was about
eleven or twelve years old — in fact, just the age
of Christopher. She, too, was tall and very
straight, and her hair, which was rather short,
was red and curly. She dashed across the street,
stopped short directly in front of Christopher,
and seized both of his hands in her own.
"Chris Lovel!" she cried. "Where did you
come from? And were you coming to see me?
And where are your crutches? Don't you need
crutches any more?"
" Oh, Betty !" said Chris. For a moment it was
all he could say. He was so glad to see her that
it made him feel dumb. But Betty had voice
and words enough for both.
"I saw you from the other side of the way, and
I could scarcely believe my eyes. It didn't seem
as if it could be you without crutches. How
do you manage?"
But before he could reply the elderly woman,
who had pursued Betty across the street, had
joined them.
"It's a wonder you were not run over, Miss
Betty," she said, severely, "dashing across in the
most crowded place like that. And who is this,
if you please?"
"Why, it's Chris Lovel! You know who he is.
He was at Maybury last summer. Chris, this is
6
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Gertrude. She's walking home from school with
me, and she hates so to cross anywhere but at
crossings that she's cross. See?"
Both children laughed, and Chris looked up
into Gertrude's worthy German face with so
friendly an expression that her own relaxed and
she smiled, too, at Betty's joke.
"Come along to our house," said Betty. "Were
you coming there, anyway?"
"I didn't know which it was," replied Chris,
"but I've been looking at all these houses and
wishing I knew, or that I could see you, and then
you came running over. My grandfather lives
on this street, too."
"Oh yes, I know the house. Everybody
knows General Keith's house, it is so big and
grand. It has seemed so funny all winter, Chris,
whenever I passed there coming home from school,
to think you would be living there. Uncle
Ludovic told me you were coming home from
abroad, but he said you were going right up to
Maybury."
" So we are soon. We only got here day before
yesterday. I hope we shall stay here awhile.
I like New York better than Europe. It is so gay,
and there's such a blue sky, and the sun shines so
much more."
"Here is our house. Can't you come in and
see my dog? And perhaps mamma is at home."
7
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"I don't know whether grandfather would
like it," said Christopher, hesitating at the foot
of the steps while Betty ran up and pulled the
bell.
"Oh, why not? Why, we are almost your
relations, now that my aunt Edith has married
your cousin Ludovic. Your grandfather couldn't
possibly object to your knowing us."
"Oh, I didn't mean that, but you see — " He
hesitated again. He did not wish to tell Betty
that this was the first time he had been to walk
alone. It seemed so very babyish. If only his
grandfather would treat him more like a big boy!
However, there was no help for it. He must
explain. "You see, I don't usually go out alone.
My grandfather thinks I can't find my way, so
he said I could only walk ten blocks down and
then turn and go back."
"That's all right, then," cried Betty. "We're
only eight blocks down from your house, and
coming in won't count for anything. You've
just got to turn and go back when you come out.
Oh, come along in!"
Thus urged, Christopher followed her up the
steps and into the house, for the door had now
been opened. A little brown Boston terrier with
a snub nose and big brown eyes rushed to greet
Betty, and included Christopher in his welcome,
much to the boy's delight.
8
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"His name is Brownie," said Betty, "and he is
a very dear dog, and hardly ever does any mis-
chief. Only once in a while he runs off with
Florence's slipper or gloves or something. Florence
is my grown-up sister. She is out in society this
winter, so she thinks she has to be very digni-
fied and high and mighty about her things, and
Brown just loves to tease her. So do I, and I get
lots of chances, for she is the kind of person you
can tease very easily. Let's go up-stairs now.
I'll show you our play-room. We children have
a place all to ourselves, and Charles and Pauline
are both out now, so there won't be anybody
there."
"Are they your brother and sister?" asked
Chris, as they mounted two long flights of stairs
and walked through a passageway to a large,
sunny room on the front of the house.
"Yes, and you can be perfectly thankful you
are the only one, or at least not the youngest.
Charles and Pauline think just because they are
older than I am they can do just what they like.
That's Charles's railroad you are looking at. He
won't allow any one to touch it. He is inventing
something. That is Pauline's corner over there
where the desk is. Pauline writes poetry, so she
has to have the desk. You may be perfectly
thankful you haven't a brother who is an inventor
and a sister who is a poetess, Chris."
9
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Are your brother and sister really that?"
His interest was plainly evident. What if he
should admire such eccentric individuals! Such
a thought was not to be tolerated for a moment.
"Yes, I'm sorry to say they are, and it is not
at all convenient. They are just absorbed in
their own pursuits."
"You are just as wonderful as ever," said
Christopher. "You use such beautiful, long
words. You must be a very remarkable family."
"Well, I suppose we are," returned Betty,
complacently. "But you will soon get to know
us all very well, for we are all going to be at
Maybury this summer. My father has bought
an old farm-house there. But you will always
have me for your most intimate friend in the
family, won't you, Chris? Promise me that. I
know you will find I am more congenial than an
inventor or a poetess."
He was delighted to promise it. He had never
liked any one of his own age as much as Betty.
He had many friends among older people, but
Betty stood alone as the most fascinating, the
most bewitching of children.
"I like you better than any person I know
who is under fourteen," said he. "I shall be very
glad to have you for my most intimate friend."
"All right," said Betty, "and you shall be
mine — while I am at Maybury. Of course, away
10
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
from there — here in New York, I mean — there
are lots of girls, and boys, too, as to that, who are
very intimate friends of mine. You couldn't
expect me to put you ahead of them all the year
round."
"No," said Christopher oolitely, but sadly,
"I suppose not."
There was an instant's pause. "Does Rachel
Amy Martin live at May bury now?" asked Betty.
"Oh yes."
"Is she under fourteen?"
"Oh no. Going on fifteen, I think."
"Then she might — " But before Betty could
finish her sentence her mother came into the
room. "Oh, mamma, this is Chris Hamilton!
Don't you know, he was at the Toppan Farm
last summer and found his grandfather so unex-
pectedly? And wasn't it funny: I just happened
to see him on the other side of the street when
I was coming home from school!"
Mrs. Hamilton greeted the boy kindly and
cordially. She looked with interest at the grand-
son of General Keith, of whom she had heard so
much.
"We did not know you were in New York,"
she said. "Has your grandfather opened his
house?"
"Yes. We haven't been there long, and it is
such a great big house I don't like it very much.
11
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
I must go back now, or he will think I have lost
my way. I am so glad I met Betty."
"Can't you stay and see her a little while?
We will telephone your grandfather and tell him
where you are, if you think he will be anxious."
"Grandfather hasn't a telephone. He doesn't
like them. We play the violin a good deal, and
he thinks the telephone would always be ringing
when he wanted to play. He doesn't like to be
interrupted. I think I must go now, but I should
like to come again and see Bettv if he will let
me."
"Couldn't you come to luncheon with us to-
morrow? We have it at half-past one, and I
shall be very glad to see you. Will you tell
your grandfather so? Perhaps he will not be
sorry to have you come where there are some
other children."
"I don't think grandfather cares anything
about that," said Christopher, looking up at her
with his frank blue eyes. "He would rather
have me stay with him. He wouldn't let me go
with any children when we were travelling. Up
at Maybury I only go to Toppan Farm to see
Mr. and Mrs. Toppan, and they are grown up,
and I go there because they are the ones who
really found me."
"Then you don't go with Rachel Amy Martin?"
asked Betty.
12
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"No, I don't see her very often."
"It's splendid that you don't have to use
crutches any more," said Betty; "but do you
always have to carry that cane?"
The boy's face saddened. Then the color
spread over it and his eyes kindled. He spoke
with eagerness. "Not always, and I sha'n't have
to very long. And it's better than crutches.
When I first began to use crutches I thought they
were grand, and now I think my new leg is grand.
You would hardly know it isn't a real live leg,
would you?"
"I'd never know it at all."
"I'm so glad!"
Presently he had said good-bye and was walk-
ing up Madison Avenue, going as rapidly as pos-
sible, for he was quite sure his grandfather must
already be anxious about him.
n
/CHRISTOPHER felt very happy himself, even
\J though his grandfather might be displeased
with him. He had seen again and had talked
with Betty Hamilton, and if his grandfather
would only give him permission he was to take
luncheon at her house to-morrow. He was not
at all sure that General Keith would be willing,
but at least he had the hope. And even if he
could not go, he could rejoice in the thought of
having seen Betty and having found that she had
not forgotten him and was "just as nice as ever."
And they were coming to Maybury for the
summer! He hoped with all his heart that his
grandfather would not object to his playing with
her occasionally, and perhaps with her brothers
and sisters and cousins. Chris had not a very
clear idea of how many there were. He thought
of Betty as a fascinating and fortunate young
person, surrounded by a large circle of admiring
and affectionate relatives, all eager to do just
as she wished, and all loving her better than they
could possibly love any one else — for surely there
14
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
could be no one in the world more worthy of
affectionate admiration than Betty Hamilton.
Christopher had very few relatives; his grand-
father, a great-aunt, and some grown-up second
cousins were the extent of his family. Until less
than a year ago he had not known even of them.
He had supposed himself to be an orphan with
no kindred. Then, by a strange combination of
circumstances, it had been discovered that he
was the grandson of General Keith, and from
being a poor and homeless little boy he had sud-
denly become a person of importance, the idol of
his grandfather, and in all probability the heir of
his wealth, although that part of it had not as
yet occurred to Christopher. Since then his life
had been totally different from all that had gone
before. Part of the time had been passed at
Maybury, where General Keith owned a large and
beautiful estate, and part in travelling, for early
in the winter the old man had become restless,
and with sudden determination went abroad,
taking Christopher with him, and his faithful man
Thomas. That Chris was lame was a never-failing
source of sorrow to General Keith. It was said
by those who knew the proud old General that he
blamed himself for it. Had he not refused to
pardon his daughter for marrying against his
wishes, the little boy would never have been in-
jured; for he was playing his violin in the street
a 15
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
for money when the accident happened which
cost him his leg.
When the boy reached home the door was
opened immediately by a man who seemed to
have been watching for him.
"Oh, Master Christopher/' he said, in a tone
of relief, "I am very glad you've come! The
General is worried to death."
"But why, Thomas? He told me I could go
to walk."
"Yes, Master Christopher, but you've been
gone longer than the General thought you'd
ought to be. He — "
Thomas paused abruptly, for a voice was heard
calling from up-stairs.
"Is that you, Christopher?"
"Yes, grandfather," the boy shouted, in his
cheerful young voice — a sharp contrast to the
querulous old tones that summoned him.
"Why don't you come up at once? And why
did you not tell me, Thomas, the moment he
arrived? Such negligence is — "
"Oh, grandfather, Thomas didn't have time!
I've just this second come in. Here I am," he
continued, pulling himself up the stairs by the
balusters. "I've had such fun! I've found
Betty, grandfather — Betty Hamilton, you know;
Cousin Edith's niece. She was up at Maybury
16
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
at the Toppan Farm last summer, and I didn't
suppose I'd ever see her again."
"I don't know why not, if she is your cousin
Edith's niece. I should suppose it the most nat-
ural thing to expect — that you should eventu-
ally meet her again. So that is what detained
you! I wish, Christopher, that you would re-
member how anxious I must necessarily be when
you are absent so long. I told you, I think, ten
blocks down should be the limit of your walk."
"And so it was, grandfather. The Harniltons
live just eight blocks and a half from here. I
counted very carefully. I saw Betty in the
street, and it was such good luck! I am sorry
you were worried, but I didn't know I was gone
too long."
He had slipped his hand into his grandfather's,
and together they walked into the library — a large
front room, from the windows of which the Gen-
eral had been watching, moving from one to the
other in restless impatience, and from there to the
head of the stairs to listen. He looked down
at the boy beside him now, and his stern face grew
more tender. It was easy to see that all the
affection he was capable of feeling was given to
his grandson. Chris glanced up fearlessly and
talked with perfect freedom. There were very
few persons who did not regard General Keith
with awe, and many who disliked him; but he
17
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
and Christopher had been on terms of friendship
since the beginning of their acquaintance, before
they knew of the close relationship existing be-
tween them, and their life together had only
served to strengthen this feeling. Christopher's
faith in the love and goodness of others, a faith
which he was unconscious of, but which was one
of the strongest traits in his character, invariably
served to awaken the love and goodness which,
although it may long lie dormant, is hidden some-
where beneath the coldest, the most unpromising
exterior. It never occurred to him that people
would regard him with indifference or dislike,
and so they rarely did. There is profound truth
in the saying that we usually find what we look
for in the attitude of our fellow-beings toward
ourselves.
They seated themselves in their customary
places, the General in a large leather arm-chair
which stood by the library table, Christopher in
a smaller arm-chair which faced the other. Sit-
ting thus they carried on many conversations,
and wherever they chanced to be staying two
chairs were invariably arranged for them to
occupy in this manner.
"Now, sir, give an account of yourself." The
words were harsh, and so was the tone, and so
was the face — except for the eyes ; they rested on
the boy with immense love in their gaze.
18
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Well, I was so surprised to see Betty! She
came running across the street to speak to me,
and we were near her house; and when we got
there she wanted me to go in, and I thought I
would. You see, I hadn't seen her for almost a
year — and she is the most splendid girl, grand-
father! She knows more games than anybody I
ever knew except Agnes, a girl I knew at the
Home. She—"
"Never mind about Agnes at the Home. I
have often told you that part of your life must be
forgotten."
"I can't exactly forget, grandfather, for you
know they were my friends. I should hate to
forget friends. Shouldn't you? But, of course, I
don't have to talk about them if you would rather
I didn't."
"Go on with your account of to-day. I sup-
pose this Betty is a daughter of Charles Hamilton.
You say she is a niece of Ludovic's wife. I re-
member she was at Maybury with her aunt. A
very mischievous young person. Charles Hamil-
ton's daughter, of course."
"I don't know her father's name, but she has
a brother Charles. I've never seen him, but
Betty has talked about him a lot. And she has
a mother — oh, such a beautiful mother, grand-
father!" The boy leaned back in his chair and
sighed heavily. "It must be a perfectly won-
19
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
derful thing always to have a mother who looks
like that."
"I didn't know Charles Hamilton married a
beauty."
"It isn't that she is so pretty, but she looked
so — oh, so kind! I do love people like that."
He paused, and his face grew tender. It was a
face which changed with the passing thoughts.
He was thinking of his own mother, whom he
could scarcely remember. Indeed, all that he
could recall was the way in which she had kissed
him. He did not speak of this now. He had
discovered long ago that his grandfather did not
care to have him talk about his mother, although
she had been his only daughter.
General Keith, guessing his thought, urged him
to continue his story. "What else happened?"
he asked.
"Well, they asked me to come to lunch to-
morrow, grandfather. Do you think you could
possibly allow me to go? I want to so very
much."
General Keith was silent for a moment. Then
he turned abruptly away from the eager blue
eyes. He took up a book that was lying on the
table beside him.
"We start for Maybury to-morrow," he said,
rather gruffly.
Christopher was astonished. He was accus-
20
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
tomed to sudden changes of plan on the part of
General Keith, but he had understood that im-
portant business must be attended to in New
York, and they had been there but a week. He
wished with all his heart that he had discovered
Betty's abode sooner.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "Do we really
have to go quite so soon, grandfather?"
"Certainly. And it was only this morning that
you informed me that you preferred Maybury to
New York."
"But that was before I found Betty."
"Betty or no Betty, we go to-morrow. And
now you may leave me. Ring for Thomas."
The boy walked to the bell and pressed it.
Before he left the room he came back to his grand-
father's side and stood there.
"Well, what is it now?" asked the General,
testily.
"I've got to write and say I can't come."
"Of course."
"Shall I write to Mrs. Hamilton or Betty?"
"Either — both — anything you like. Don't
trouble me with that now, Christopher. I have
too many arrangements to attend to."
Christopher went to his own room, and sat down
at his desk. He was quite sure that this plan to go
to the country the following day had not occurred
to his grandfather until he had been told of the
21
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
invitation to luncheon. He had been in no
hurry to leave the city, and he had seemed to
have plenty of time at his disposal to listen to
Christopher. It was all in keeping, however,
with what he knew of his grandfather's nature.
He did not wish him to lunch at the Hamiltons',
and in his usual hasty way had determined to
leave town to avoid it, instead of following the
simpler plan of refusing to allow him to accept
the invitation. General Keith was apt to decide
hastily and then stick to his resolution, even when
further reflection might make it seem unwise to
do so. Christopher had not really expected to
be allowed again to go to the Hamiltons', so he
was not disappointed. He was only sorry. He
consoled himself by writing two notes, as his
grandfather had said that it would be permissible.
He liked to write, and it was never difficult for
him to express himself. So he devoted himself
to this while his grandfather gave his orders, and
the whole household was thrown into agitation
by the news of their speedy departure for May-
bury.
The next morning Betty was late for breakfast.
It was a case of tangles and a difference of opinion
with Gertrude about a frock. Betty wished to
wear her "best every-day dress" to school, that
she might, upon her return, be fully prepared for
22
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
company without further effort. Gertrude felt
that the usual school costume was "good enough"
for one small boy who might come.
"Of course he'll come!" exclaimed Betty.
"Why shouldn't he, when he had no previous
engagement? Of course, his grandfather wouldn't
prevent his coming to our house, when his wife's
own nephew is married to my own father's own
sister. It makes him a sort of relation."
She was somewhat chagrined, therefore, to
find a note at her plate which proved Gertrude
to be right. It ran:
"DEAR BETTY, — Grandfather and I are going to
Maybury to-morrow, so I cannot go to your house.
I am awfully sorry. I am glad I met you to-day, only
I guess we should not have gone if I had not seen you.
I like Brown ever so much. I wish I had a dog like
Brown, only grandfather does not like dogs, so I can't.
"Good-bye. I hope I will see you sometimes in
Maybury.
"Yours truly,
"CHRISTOPHER LOVEL."
"He can't come!" said Betty, looking up from
her letter. "Isn't that too mean? And he says
they wouldn't be going to Maybury to-day if he
hadn't met me, mamma. How could meeting
me make them go to Maybury?"
Betty, as she spoke, watched her mother, who
was looking across the table at her father.
23
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"That is very characteristic of the General,
Charlie, isn't it? The boy says in his note to
me: 'I did not know we were going so soon, but
grandfather has just this minute made up his
mind to go to-morrow, and everybody is sur-
prised and is hurrying to get ready.' Could it
possibly be because — Surely he must have learn-
ed! He won't make the same mistake with this
grandchild that he did with his son and daughter,
I hope."
"It looks like it," said Mr. Hamilton. "Bes-
sie, I am really sorry for that boy. I believe
he would have stood more chance for real happi-
ness if he could have lived with the Toppans,
who wanted him so much. We must do what
we can this summer to have him with our chil-
dren. The old General always was a fierce dis-
ciplinarian, and what with his experience in
the army and his immense wealth he has always
had his own way. We shall have to use some
tact."
"Ludovic will help us," said Mrs. Hamilton.
"He really has some influence with his uncle, I
think."
The conversation then turned to something
else which had no connection with Christopher,
but Betty had heard enough to give her food
for thought during the remainder of the&meal.
What a perfectly dreadful person that old Gen-
24
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
eral must be, she said to herself. She had never
liked him. She remembered now how very dis-
agreeable she had considered him, before any one
knew that he was Christopher's grandfather,
and when Chris used to stand up for him and say
that he liked him. By this time he must have
found out that Betty was right, and she looked
forward with pleasure to an opportunity for
proving this to him when they should meet in
Maybury. She wished that she need not wait
so long. This was early April, and as the family
was not to go to Maybury until May, it would be
a whole month before she should have the op-
portunity to speak to Christopher — an intermin-
able period. She wished also that she could see
General Keith's town house. She had heard of
its magnificence. It was said to be one of the
handsomest houses on Madison Avenue, so that
meant a very fine house indeed. She had seen
the outside of it, for it was just around the cor-
ner from her school. She wondered at what
hour they were going to start for Maybury;
very probably not until late in the day. She
determined to stop at the house on her way from
school. It would then be one o'clock, and she
might have just time enough for a glimpse of
the mansion and a word with the owner. Betty
knew no fear, and quite looked forward to telling
the General that her father and mother did not
25
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
approve of the course he was pursuing with
Christopher. She had such immense faith in
the good judgment of her parents that she really
felt it to be her duty to give General Keith the
benefit of their opinions. She decided to say
nothing at home of her intentions. It would
be time enough for that when she returned, and
— well, it was just possible that her father
would object. Her father, in spite of his good
judgment, sometimes prevented her from car-
rying out plans that to Betty seemed so ex-
cellent.
Betty Hamilton was an impulsive girl, and one
who might even be called headstrong. When
an idea came to her like this one, an idea which
suggested all sorts of possibilities in the way
of adventure that would make a fine story to
relate to Charles and Pauline — this last was dear
to Betty's heart; it was such unmitigated pleas-
ure to impress Charles and Pauline — she seldom
stopped to deliberate. She made up her mind
and did it. The time for deliberation came
later, when the deed was done and everybody
disapproved. Her mother feared that Betty
would learn only through some great experience.
She remembered, however, that she herself had
been an eager, restless child, full of impulse and
mischievous pranks, and also of intense affection.
Betty hid her feelings under a seemingly careless
26
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
exterior, but she was very loving, and by love
could always be ruled.
Perhaps she would have told her mother of
her intention of stopping to say good-bye to
Chris if Mrs. Hamilton had not been called to
the telephone from the breakfast-table and then
to an interview with a lady who came very early
on a matter of great importance. The children
started for school without seeing her again. Of
course, Betty had no thought of telling any one
else about it. It would spoil the whole story
if Charles and Pauline knew about it beforehand.
She was, therefore, very silent as she and her
sister walked up Madison Avenue, and as Pauline
was engaged in the pursuit of a poetical fancy
she made no effort to break the welcome silence.
Pauline was to go home after school with a friend
to luncheon, so Betty felt that there would be no
danger of being prevented by her. The difficulty
would lie in disposing of Gertrude, who always
walked to school with them and came again at
half-past one to accompany them home. Betty
knew that it would be hard to persuade the de-
termined Gertrude to vary her custom to such
an extent as a call upon General Keith and Chris-
topher would require. She puzzled over it for
some time, and then very wisely waited to see
how things turned out. There was a barely
possible chance that Marie, one of the younger
27
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
and more docile maids would come for her.
Gertrude had been anxious to go to see a sister
who lived in Hoboken, and Mrs. Hamilton had
spoken of arranging to have her take that day
for the expedition. If it were Marie who came
to the school, Betty knew that she should find
it easy enough to carry out her plans.
Ill
AND Marie it proved to be. When school was
X\. dismissed, and Betty and all the other girls
left the school-room and went to the cloak-room,
there was Marie, the young French maid, waiting
to help her put on her hat and coat. Marie had
not been living long with Mrs. Hamilton, and
this was the first time she had been sent to the
school for Pauline and Betty. Gertrude did not
approve of Marie, but this was supposed to be be-
cause she was elderly and German, while Marie
was young and French. Gertrude declared Marie
to be deceitful and flighty.
"Mark my words, Mrs. Hamilton," she had
said, with the freedom of an old servant, "she
is not to be trusted." And she had been un-
willing to go to Hoboken that morning if it were
to devolve upon Marie to take her place in walk-
ing home with Betty. But Mrs. Hamilton, at-
tributing her fancies to her well-known jealous
disposition, and intending that Marie should be
available for this very duty, only laughed at her
objections. Marie had come to her with a very
29
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
good recommendation. Her French was ex-
cellent and her appearance most pleasing. She
instructed Marie to speak only in French to the
children, and then sent Gertrude to Hoboken
while she herself went to do some shopping and
afterward to take luncheon with her sister-in-
law, Mrs. Lewis, who lived in the country not
far from New York, and who had telephoned
that morning begging her to come.
Betty was ready in a very short time. She
bade a hasty good-bye to her friends and hurried
away with a rapidity that would have surprised
Gertrude, who complained constantly of Betty's
slowness in putting on her hat and coat, and of
her desire to linger and chat with the girls after
school. To-day she was the first to leave, and
as she walked with Marie toward Madison Avenue
she told her that she wished to stop on the way
home to call upon a friend who was going that
day to the country, and whom, therefore, she
should not see again a long time.
"Parlez Franc, ais, parlez Franc, ais, mademoi-
selle, s'il vous plait!" exclaimed Marie, with her
irreproachable accent. "Madame votre mere
m'a dit qu'il faut parler Frangais toujours.
Toujours!"
"Je n'aime pas parler Frangais," grumbled
Betty; adding in English: "What's the use?"
She recovered her temper, however, and soon
so
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
discovered that the plan of stopping at General
Keith's house was especially pleasing to Marie,
for she herself would like to call upon a friend —
in fact, it was a cousin who lived " bien prochaine"
in "L' A venue Troisieme." What could be more
convenient and desirable? She would leave "la
petite demoiselle chez Monsieur le General,"
would seek "sa cousine," and return "toute de
suite, immediatement, en cinq ou dix minutes."
Betty detested being called "la petite demoi-
selle," as she by no means considered hereelf to
be so very little. Was she not eleven years old,
and not very far from her twelfth birthday? It
was provoking that she was not allowed to go
out alone. Pauline enjoyed this great privilege,
but it was not at all certain that Betty would
be permitted to do it even when she should be
as old as Pauline. Her mother would not prom-
ise. It all depended upon how careful a girl
Betty should have become at thirteen.
She decided not to correct Marie for speaking
of her as a "petite demoiselle" at present. She
was too anxious to have her carry out her inten-
tion of calling in Third Avenue. It would be
much more agreeable than to have her wait at
General Keith's. So she avoided a dispute, and
very pleasantly, and in excellent French, directed
her to stay at least ten or fifteen minutes, and to
make it fifteen if she possibly could, and then
3 31
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
she ran quickly up the steps of the big, stone
house with the paved court-yard and the high,
wrought-iron fence which she had long known
to be the home of Christopher's grandfather.
She had insisted that Marie should not linger for
an instant, so desirous was she to have it appear
to the servant who should open the door that
she was old enough to make calls by herself.
Marie, eager to get to Third Avenue, obeyed her
to the letter. When, therefore, the great front
door was thrown open, Thomas found upon the
steps only a little girl whose face seemed familiar
to him, and who stood there and asked for Mr.
Christopher Lovel with the dignity and self-
possession of a grown-up lady.
"Yes, miss, he's at home, but he's going to
start for the station in a very few minutes."
"Oh, then, I'm in time," said Betty, stepping
into the house with perfect assurance. "I was
so afraid he might have gone. Please tell him
it's Miss Betty Hamilton, and I've just stopped
to say good-bye to him — I don't like to ask for
the General at the door," she added to herself.
"I will ask Chris if I can see him."
She walked into the reception-room, which
was at the right of the front door. Signs of a
hasty departure were plainly visible in the house.
Luggage stood in the hall; the furniture had not
yet been covered, but piles of crash lay ready for
32
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
the purpose, some of the ornaments had been put
away, and the whole place seemed to be in the
state of disorder which means the departure of
the family.
Betty was not obliged to wait long, for Chris-
topher was in the dining-room and came to her
at once.
"Oh, Betty," he exclaimed, eagerly, "how splen-
did of you! I was so disappointed I couldn't
come to lunch; but we're going right off. I was
so sorry not to see you again to say good-bye,
and here you are!"
"I thought I'd stop on my way from school,
as I had to go right by the house. I didn't know
what time you were going, but I thought I'd
try it. Where's your grandfather9"
"He had to go down-town on business, and he
is to meet us at the station. Thomas is going
with me, and we have to start very soon, I think.
Grandfather said to be there at half-past two.
The other servants have gone. They went up
in the early morning train so as to get things
ready for us at Maybury. We are going
to stop overnight in Boston, for grandfather
wants to see some one who lives at Chestnut
Hill."
"Are you?" said Betty. "In Boston? That's
funny. You must mean you are going to spend
the night in Philadelphia. Chestnut Hill is near
33
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Philadelphia. Well, I'm sorry not to see your
grandfather. I wanted to particularly."
"What did you want to see him for?" asked
Christopher, with some curiosity. He was not
at all sure that his grandfather would be equally
desirous of seeing Betty.
"Oh, I just wanted to tell him something my
father said. I'll tell him when I get to Maybury.
Oh, Chris, what is that?"
They were both startled by the sound of a
heavy fall in the room above, the jar of which
caused the chandelier to rattle and sway and the
windows to shake. The perfect stillness which
immediately ensued was even more alarming than
the noise.
"Somebody must have dropped a trunk or a
table or something," suggested Betty.
"You wait here while I go and see," said Chris.
Presently she heard rapid footsteps as of per-
sons running to the room overhead. Quite a
crowd of people seemed to be gathering there.
She longed to join them and see for herself what
had happened, but she did not feel quite at lib-
erty to go up-stairs. While she hesitated Chris
came back. His face was white, and he looked
very much frightened.
"Thomas has fallen off the step-ladder," he
whispered. "He is lying perfectly still, and I'm
afraid he is dead. They're going for the doctor."
34
While he spoke a woman ran down-stairs and
out at the door. She wore no hat or coat,
and from the window they watched her run
across the street and disappear around the
corner.
"What shall I do?" asked Christopher, glad
to have Betty to turn to for counsel. "Grand-
father will be waiting for us at the station, and
unless somebody goes and tells him he will be
dreadfully frightened. He will think something
has happened to me. He is always thinking
that."
"Then the best plan will be to go yourself and
tell him," said Betty, with her usual promptness.
"I will go with you."
"Oh, will you?" said Chris, greatly relieved.
"I shall be ever so much obliged if you will.
You see, I don't know my way around New York
at all. We go to the Grand Central Station, I
think."
"Oh no, you don't. Not if you are going to
Chestnut Hill. You made a mistake just now
when you said it was near Boston. You got it
mixed up with something else. To go to Chestnut
Hill you have to go to Philadelphia, and to get
to Philadelphia you have to go over to the station
at Jersey City. I know that for certain, for I
have been to Chestnut Hill. One of my aunts
lives there."
35
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
She spoke with great positiveness, glad of a
chance to show that she had travelled. Chris
was very much surprised.
"I am sure we go to Boston," he said. "We
have to go part way to Boston to get to May-
bury. I know to go to Maybury we have to
leave the Grand Central Station."
"Oh no, perhaps you don't. There is always
some roundabout way, anyhow, of getting to
places. Very likely there is some short cut your
grandfather knows about that will take you to
Maybury from Philadelphia. At any rate, I am
certain sure you go to Philadelphia to get to
Chestnut Hill. Why, I have been there, I tell
you! I think I ought to know."
Betty spoke with an air of such authority that
Christopher allowed himself to be convinced,
strange as it appeared to him that it could be as
she declared. His grandfather, it was true, had
given all the necessary directions to Thomas.
It was his habit to treat Christopher as though
he were a very small child. .His lameness, of
course, made him seem younger and more help-
less than other boys of his age. His experiences
before his accident had been of a nature that
would tend to harden him, but the long illness
in the hospital and his life since then had had an
opposite effect. He was closely shielded now,
with servants to watch and care for him, and no
36
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
opportunity whatever to assert the independence
of thought and action that is natural to every
healthy normal boy.
When Betty, therefore, declared that his grand-
father would be awaiting him at the Pennsyl-
vania Railroad Station in Jersey City he was
surprised, but supposed her to be right. His
chief thought now was to reach him and tell him
of the dreadful fate that had overtaken the
faithful Thomas. The people in the house who
were with Thomas now were scrubbing-women
and the man and his wife who were left in charge
of the house when General Keith was out of town.
As Chris had told Betty, the other servants had
started for Maybury by an early train. The
carriage which had been ordered to take the boy
to the station was now waiting at the door.
Christopher went up-stairs and told one of the
women that he was going to the station to get
General Keith and would soon be back. He
asked about Thomas, and learned that he was still
unconscious. This made him all the more anx-
ious to see his grandfather, and he turned and
hurried down to the front door, where Betty was
awaiting him. He did not mention her to the
woman, and as Thomas had opened the door
for her no one else knew that she was there.
The two children went down the steps and en-
tered the carriage.
37
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Pennsylvania depot, Jersey City," said Chris-
topher, very grandly.
"Any baggage?" asked the driver.
"No, and please drive as fast as you can. It
is very important."
The cabman touched his hat, and as he was a
good-natured cabby he smiled, feeling sorry for
the little chap's lameness. He slammed the
door, mounted the box, and presently they were
driving rapidly down Madison Avenue. Instead
of turning off when they reached the Grand
Central Station, and thus taking Christopher to
the place where his grandfather was already im-
patiently awaiting him, he continued on to
Twenty-third Street, and, turning to the right,
proceeded as fast as he could in the direction of
the Hudson River.
"It is the queerest thing that we should be
coming down here," said Chris, looking out of
the window as they drove up to the ferry-house.
" I didn't know we had to cross the ferry. Grand-
father never said a word about that. Do you
suppose he will be waiting on this side of the
river or the other?"
"Did he say you were to meet in the station?"
"Yes."
"Then, of course, he meant the other side. He
would have said this side if he had meant it.
You told me he had gone down-town, so of
38
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
course he will cross over by one of the lower
ferries. They take you to the Pennsylvania
Station, too."
" Betty, what a lot you know about the sta-
tions!" said Chris, admiringly.
"Well, you see, I have lived in New York my
whole life long, and I have often been to Phila-
delphia to stay with my aunt at Chestnut Hill.
It is a most fortunate thing you told me that your
grandfather wanted to see some one who lives
at Chestnut Hill. If you hadn't we should have
gone to the Grand Central Station and waited
there ages and ages, and your grandfather would
have been waiting down here. Wouldn't he have
been mad, though!"
"It is a good thing you came along, Betty,
to tell me. Grandfather will be ever and ever
so much obliged to you."
He paid the driver (Christopher was always
well supplied with money), and they walked
through the ferry-house and to the boat, which
had just come into the slip. The crowd of pas-
sengers had disembarked, and another but similar
crowd was hastening on board. It was all very
interesting, not to say thrilling, and the children
for a time quite forgot Thomas in the excitement
of finding sheltered seats on the upper deck.
The day was mild and clear. The river was full
of craft of all kinds. An ocean liner was aj>
39
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
preaching its berth, an armored cruiser lay an-
chored in mid-stream, a French battle-ship that
was visiting our shores was an object of interest
to every one. Ferry-boats, like huge living creat-
ures, crawled across the broad water. There was
a great, flat transportation-boat with a whole
train of cars on it, and there were sail-boats,
tug-boats, fire-boats, and steamers. And the sky
was blue and the river was blue, and everywhere
flags were flying against the blue, and down-
stream could be seen the Statue of Liberty, and
on the New York side great business buildings,
stretching upward their interminable height, and
on the Jersey side was the smoke of railroads and
factories, and everywhere the signs of life — life
that must be lived to the uttermost degree of
activity, where all who lived must hurry and
work, work and hurry, or else be called a failure.
Chris and Betty did not waste time in any such
reflections as these. There was too much to be
watched and commented upon, even had anything
of the kind occurred to them. Betty in par-
ticular had entirely forgotten that she had any
duty in the world but that of accompanying
Christopher, or any other claims upon her atten-
tion. Oddly enough, it was the sight of the French
battle-ship which recalled to her the thought of
her own family. "Goody! Goody!" she cried,
her favorite form of exclamation.
40
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"What's the matter?" asked Chris.
"I never thought to leave word for Marie!
She was to come back for me after she went to
see her cousin in Third Avenue. She won't
know where I've gone."
"Oh, they will tell her," said the boy, reassur-
ingly. "I told Mrs. McGuire, the scrubbing-
woman, that we were going to the station. Of
course, she will tell Marie, and she'll know we will
get you home from there. You will be a little
late, but I don't believe your mother will be
worried, do you?"
"Mamma won't know anything about it until
I get back, for she has gone to lunch with Aunt
Edith, so, of course, I shall get home long before
she does."
"Oh, that is all right then. You needn't
worry about that. And it's fun to come way
down here, just we two, isn't it, Betty? I'm
never allowed to go anywhere alone."
"I'm not, either, and it's such a bore to have
a maid tagging round after you. Gertrude is
such a strict person, too."
"Thomas isn't. Thomas is very nice, and I
do wish he hadn't hurt himself. I wonder how
he is now."
"Probably he is ever so much better by this
time. I suppose Marie has been there and has
gone home. She isn't at all strict, but the worst
41
of her is that I'm not allowed to speak English
when she is with me, and I do hate talking
French."
"Oh, I don't! I love it. I have been taking
lessons ever since I came to live with grand-
father. He speaks it just like a Frenchman,
and while we were abroad I was studying it and
talking it all the time, and very often he and I
speak it over here. Let's do it now."
"Oh no!" cried Betty; "I'm only too glad
not to have to, as long as Marie isn't here."
They were silent for a little while. The boat
ploughed its way through the water, lifting its
hoarse voice to respond to the greetings of sister-
boats, and gradually drawing nearer to the Jersey
side. Chris was the first to speak.
"It seems ever so long since we left the house,
Betty. I hope we sha'n't keep grandfather wait-
ing very long. He hates so to wait for people."
"Oh, we shall get there by half-past two.
See, we are getting to the slip now. Look out
for the bump when we touch the dock."
The bump safely a thing of the past, they
walked along the lengthy passageway which led
to the station. They followed the throng into
the waiting-room, and began eagerly to look for
General Keith.
"He will probably be near the doors that lead
to the Philadelphia trains," said Christopher.
42
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
There were several such doors, for there seemed
to be several trains that would soon start for
Philadelphia, through trains to Washington and
the South, express trains and accommodation
trains, with but a small difference in their hours
of departure. General Keith was nowhere to be
found.
"He hasn't come yet," said Betty; "you see,
we had plenty of time. It isn't half-past two
yet; only a quarter past. That man drove so
nice and fast."
"It's perfectly wonderful that we got here
first," said Christopher, very much pleased that
such should have been the case. "Grandfather
says soldiers should always be prompt. Of course,
I can never be a soldier. I only wish I could"
(he sighed as he spoke), "but I can act like one,
grandfather says."
"I'm rather glad you can't be," rejoined Betty.
" It would be awful to have you go to the war and
be killed."
"I don't believe there'll ever be another war,"
said the boy, somewhat regretfully, but pleased,
on the whole, that Betty preferred that he should
not be killed.
"You can't tell, because papa says we are a
world power now, and no one knows what will
happen. But I should think you would rather be
in the navy, and that was such a splendid cruiser
43
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
we saw this morning. Just think how much
more fun it must be to go to sea and smash up
other ships than just stay on land to fight!"
Christopher, the grandson of an old soldier,
was not prepared to agree to this, and in a friendly
argument as to the superior merits of the two
branches of the service the time passed rapidly
away, and they were surprised presently to find
that it was twenty minutes of three and still the
General had not come.
"I am afraid there has been some mistake,"
said Christopher, "or perhaps something has
happened to grandfather, too. He may have
had an accident. Or perhaps, after all, he is
waiting on the other side of the river."
"Oh, I don't believe so," said Betty. In her
efforts to make her words very reassuring she
raised her voice and spoke with even more than
her customary clearness. She had frequently
been told that she spoke too loud, but she forgot
these admonitions, and what she said was per-
fectly audible to the persons sitting near. "You
may depend upon it, Chris, General Keith will
be here soon. If he doesn't come he will send
you word and tell you where to go to meet him.
I suppose business has kept him; it often does
papa. And I'll stay with you until he comes, as
sure as my name is Betty Hamilton."
"It is awfully good of you," said the boy.
44
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"But I can't help feeling we have made a mistake.
I think we ought to have gone to the other sta-
tion or stayed on the New York side."
"Christopher Lovel!" exclaimed Betty, in-
dignantly, "you are a perfect goose to think
that. Of course it is this station, and you see
if I'm not right! General Keith will either come
himself very soon, or send some man or somebody
to get you."
In a short time her words were apparently
verified. General Keith did not arrive, but a
man, well dressed and with exceedingly good
manners, walked up to the bench where they
were sitting.
"Are you Christopher Lovel?" he asked.
"Yes!" cried Christopher, eagerly. "Did my
grandfather send you to find me?"
"He did. Your grandfather, General Keith.
He has been detained by business, and will not
start to-day. He wants you to meet him. I
will take you to him."
"Down-town?" asked the boy. "Is he still
down-town?"
"He is still down-town."
"Oh, that is all right. Thomas isn't here, you
see."
"I see he isn't," said the man.
"This is my friend Betty Hamilton. She
came down with me."
45
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
The man took off his hat to Betty with the
greatest politeness. She was immensely pleased.
"I will keep with you, Chris," she said. "I
am afraid I couldn't find my way home alone."
"By all means keep with us, Miss Betty," said
the man. "The General would much prefer
that you should do so. Come this way, if you
please. We go out by this door."
"Don't we go to the ferry?" asked Betty, in
surprise.
"Not that ferry. We go to another."
They left the waiting-room, not unnoticed by
the persons who had been sitting near them.
The lame boy with the golden hair and the blue
eyes was one whom people frequently turned to
look at a second time. Betty, too, was unusual
looking. She carried herself well, and her bright,
alert look, her short, red curls, her general air of
distinction, made her noticeable. A woman who
had missed her train saw them walk away.
"I am glad some one has come for those chil-
dren at last," she said to herself. "I thought
they couldn't be brother and sister. They don't
look a bit alike. I thought it was funny that
children of that class should be waiting here
alone so long. I suppose he is the grandson of
the famous General Keith, such a brave soldier
and yet so rich. Well, that boy will have a lot
of money, and p'r'aps that will make up some-
46
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
what for his being lame; but it's too bad he has
to limp. He's got a lovely face, though. It's
more than the man has who came for them;
there was something queer about him. I won-
der, now, if he really was sent after the boy, as he
said."
MARIE found "sa cousine" who lived on
Third Avenue so entertaining and so glad
to see her that she was persuaded to lengthen
her call until it far exceeded the ten or fifteen
minutes which she had promised herself; in
fact, it was a quarter of two by a slow clock
before she could tear herself from the family
circle, and it was with reluctant footsteps even
then that she pursued her way back to Madison
Avenue. She was accompanied by Jean, who
was employed at one of the hotels, and whose
mid-day hour of freedom had coincided very
nicely and conveniently with Marie's call. In
such society the walk was all too short, and it
was with a heavy sigh that Marie finally bade
him farewell at the corner, and with a mind full
of many more interesting affairs than those of
"Mademoiselle Betti" she mounted the steps of
General Keith's house.
It was a long time before the door was opened
in response to her repeated ringing of the bell. At
last one of the scrubbing-women came to the door.
48
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Mademoiselle Betti Ameeltone," said Marie,
in her broken English, "eez ze here? Zay to her,
eef you please, zat Marie eez come."
"Sure an' I don't know what yer afther," re-
plied Mrs. McGuire. "There ain't no such person
livin' here. Yer at the wrong house."
She was about to close the door in summary
fashion when Marie interposed.
"Zee eez come to make her adieux to — to —
what eez his name? I haf forgotten how he
calls himself, but it eez zee leetle lame boy."
"Master Christopher yer afther talkin' about,
I'll warrant, though how any Christian body's to
understand yer dago lingo is more than I know.
Well, he's out, an' I ain't seen no young lady,
an' there ain't none been here. An' I'll thank
yer not to keep me standin' here when Thomas
is dead already for aught I know, an' the Gin-
eral '11 be home soon, an' there'll be row enough.
The saints presarve us if there ain't some one
a-callin' me now! No, she ain't here. Try next
door." And General Keith's front door was
closed with a bang.
But Marie did not try next door. She knew
that it was this house which her charge had en-
tered, for it was unlike all the other houses in
the block and she could not mistake it. As the
boy was out she concluded that Betty had gone
home without waiting for her, so she walked
49
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
down Madison Avenue rather quickly, knowing
that it was quite against the rules for the little
girl to be out alone, and feeling very glad that
Mrs. Hamilton and the tyrannical Gertrude were
both absent. When she reached the house, how-
ever, and upon inquiry found that Betty had
not come in, her complacency received a severe
shock. It was in no way lessened by the attitude
toward her of the other servants. Marie was not
popular, and this was an opportunity not to be
lost. They gathered about her — the cook, the
laundress, the chambermaid, and even William,
whom she had supposed to be an admirer — and
upbraided her for the absence of Miss Betty.
They painted in glowing and frightful colors the
wrath of Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton when Marie's
delinquency should be discovered. They were
all Irish except the butler, and he was English.
Not one of them could tolerate the French maid.
She felt herself an alien in a strange land. The
charms of the family circle in Third Avenue, with
the daily calls of Jean, took possession of her
mind. Her wages had been paid that morning.
There was nothing, therefore, to prevent her de-
parture. She went up to her room, and presently,
when no one was looking, when all the servants
were still holding an indignant conclave in the
basement, she stole down the front stairs and out
of the front door, carrying her possessions in the
50
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
two neat suit-cases which had brought them.
She turned in the direction that led her away
from the view of the basement windows, and soon
Marie was lost in the crowd and was well on her
way to the haven of Third Avenue, congratu-
lating herself as she went that no one in the
Hamilton household knew that she had friends
there. They would never find her.
It happened that not one of the family was at
home at luncheon that day.
Mrs. Hamilton came in at about half-past
three, and was told at once of the absence of
Betty. She sent for Marie, and William de-
spatched the chambermaid to call her to the
presence of her mistress. Nora returned from
her errand with flying feet.
"She ain't there, Mrs. Hamilton!" she ex-
claimed. "She ain't there, and none of her
things ain't there! She's gone, and she's took
everything she owned! There ain't so much as a
pin left."
Further investigation proved this to be true,
and Mrs. Hamilton felt puzzled. She was not
yet alarmed, for she supposed that Betty had
done just what the servants had thought — she
had gone home with one of her school-mates and
evaded Marie altogether. Mrs. Hamilton was an-
noyed, however. She was surprised that Betty
should have done something which was clearly
51
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
against rules, for the children were expected al-
ways to ask permission to go out to luncheon,
and Betty had never transgressed this law be-
fore. As to the departure of Marie, perhaps it
was just as well, for she had made herself so
much disliked in the household that no doubt
dismissal would have been necessary eventually.
Mrs. Hamilton smiled to herself when she pictured
Gertrude's triumph, upon her return, to discover
all her predictions verified.
At about four o'clock Pauline came home.
She found her mother in her own room and
alone, and she sat down as close to her as she
could place her chair, delighted at the thought
of "a good talk with mamma without one of the
other children."
"Where did Betty go to lunch, Pauline?"
asked Mrs. Hamilton.
"Betty! Why, nowhere. She came home
with Marie."
"No, my dear, she didn't. Marie came home
without her."
"Then she must know where she is, for she
left school with her. Marie helped me on with
my things, and Betty was there with us. She
got my gloves by mistake. She didn't say any-
thing about going anywhere to lunch, and I
don't think she would, mamma, without asking
you. Betty never does. I saw her going along
52
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
toward Madison Avenue with Marie when I came
out. Alice and I turned toward Fifth Avenue,
you know, to go to her house."
"Are you sure you saw Betty with Marie,
Pauline?" asked her mother, now feeling a vague
alarm.
"Why, of course, I am, mamma! Isn't Marie
at home? Why don't you ask her where she
left Betty?"
"Marie has gone! She — Oh, Pauline, how
stupid I have been! Of course, I see it all now!
Something has happened, and Marie was afraid
to tell it and has run away, and I have been
sitting here quietly and have lost all this time.
Oh, my dear, help me to think ! What shall we
do first?"
"I think the first thing we had better do is to
telephone to papa," said Pauline. "Don't worry,
mamma. It is probably all right, and Betty may
come in any time. Dear mamma, don't look so
frightened."
Pauline went to the telephone, and soon re-
turned with a message from her father.
"He is coming right home; but he says we
must telephone to all of Betty's friends, every
one we can think of, and ask if they know where
she went. But he says she will probably be home
soon, only we had better not take any chances.
And he says not to worry, because it is just like
53
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Betty to take us by surprise; but we had better
send William to Marie's friends and find out
where she is, and to look and see if she has stolen
anything."
Very soon these matters were all set in train,
but with small result. Betty's school-mates had
been communicated with, but as yet no one
had seen her. William returned from the only
friends that Marie was supposed to have, and
they knew nothing about her. And so far as
anything could be discovered, nothing had been
stolen from the Hamilton household, "though
that's a thing you don't find out for a long while,"
said the cook, oracularly, "what with the hand-
kerchiefs and the collars and the bits of lace she
might pocket as easy as yer please."
But Mrs. Hamilton felt as though theft were a
small matter. Where was Betty, her youngest,
her baby, the child so carefully shielded and
guarded, whose very mischief and fun made her
so dear to all? There was nothing to be done
now but wait for Mr. Hamilton to come, and to
watch from the window for Betty, while Pauline
stood at the telephone and eagerly called up
house after house, only to receive the unvarying
reply: "No, she has not been here to-day. . . .
Yes, I am quite sure."
It was about half-past four o'clock when Mr.
Hamilton reached home. Mrs. Hamilton saw
54
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
him coming, and ran down-stairs to open the door
herself.
"She hasn't come home?" he asked, but he
was answered even before he spoke. One look
at his wife's face was enough. "My dear, you
needn't be so frightened. You know, Betty is
always up to mischief, and you know how she
forgets time. I am pretty sure she will come
walking in very soon, and we shall have had all
our fright for nothing."
"I am not sure that she will, Charlie, and
neither are you. Betty is mischievous, but she
is never directly disobedient, and the very fact
that Marie has disappeared shows that some-
thing is quite wrong. She has not taken any-
thing. She has just vanished. I am sure some-
thing has happened and she was afraid to tell it,
and — What's that? Did a carriage stop?
Pauline, is it — is it — "
"It is an old gentleman, mamma. He is get-
ting out and coming up the steps."
"I can't see any one, Charlie. Please tell
William."
Mr. Hamilton went out into the hall, but the
man had already opened the door.
"I must see Mrs. Hamilton at once or any one
who is at home. It is most important — "
Mr. Hamilton heard that much, and then went
forward.
55
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"General Keith!" he exclaimed, in surprise.
"What can I do for you?"
"You can help me to find my grandson. He is
here, I suppose," said the General, sharply. "I
cannot understand the matter at all. Christo-
pher wished to come, I could see that, but that
he should do so when I expressly forbade it, when
I made all my arrangements to leave town, and
actually went to the station and waited an hour — "
"Christopher is not here, General Keith," in-
terposed Mrs. Hamilton, from the door of the
parlor. "He has not been here to-day."
"What!" thundered the old man. "Not here?
Then where is he?"
There was a moment's breathless silence. It
was Pauline who broke it.
"I shouldn't wonder," said she, "if they were
together and have gotten lost."
"If who were together?" demanded the Gen-
eral, turning upon her. He had not even seen
her until she spoke.
"Betty and Chris."
''Precisely what I said myself. Will you
kindly tell me, without further unnecessary delay,
where that child is — that girl? She has led
Christopher into danger before this. Now, where
is she? When I heard she had been at the house
I knew she was at the bottom of it all. Why, I
have been waiting — "
56
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Was my daughter at your house to-day,
General Keith?"
"Of course she was. Haven't I said so more
than once?"
"Will you be good enough to tell me exactly
when she was there?" asked Mr. Hamilton. "We
are very much alarmed by her absence, and until
you told us this we have not had the slightest
clew to her whereabouts since she left school.
Mrs. Hamilton is exceedingly anxious, as you
must see. Perhaps if we were to talk the matter
over we could agree upon some plan for tracing
the children. How long ago did you discover
that the boy was missing?"
His serious face, his concerned voice, no less
than his quiet manner, made an impression upon
the irascible General. He controlled his ill-
temper, and, following Mrs. Hamilton into the
parlor, he took the chair which Mr. Hamilton
drew up for him. They all sat down.
"I made all my arrangements to go to May-
bury to-day," he said. "It was a rather sudden
determination, but for many reasons it seemed
best to go. As it has turned out, I might just
as well have stayed — but no matter. We were
going. I was obliged to go down to Wall Street,
and I left directions for Thomas, my man, to
bring Christopher to the Grand Central Station
and to be there promptly at half-past two. We
57
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
were to take the three o'clock limited, but I
wished them to be there in good season. I
waited there until long after three o'clock. They
did not come. I went to my house, and found
that Thomas had fallen from a step-ladder.
What he was up on a ladder for when he was
about to start for Boston, / don't know. But
there he was; he had fallen from a step-ladder,
and knocked his head in some way, and there-
fore became unconscious — fainted — and they all
thought he was dead; none but ignorant char-
people about, all the other servants gone to May-
bury, and great delay in finding a doctor. Chris-
topher told one of the women he would go to
the station and meet me, and it seemed he started
off in a carriage — by himself, she supposed. I
have seen the stable people, and the man who
drove him is off on another trip. They are to
send him to me as soon as he comes in. In the
mean time Thomas has come to. He isn't much
hurt — just enough to have caused all this trouble
— and he says that a little girl came to say good-
bye to Christopher just before he fell, and that
it was your daughter. That was enough for me.
I knew at once that Miss Betty Hamilton, with
her well-known propensity for getting herself
and other people into mischief, had prevailed
upon him to do something he ought not to
do, and had led him into some scrape, and
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
so I came to you at once. Now, where are
they?"
"We haven't the least idea," said Mr. Hamil-
ton, "but I think we are nearer to finding out
than we were before. The coachman — "
Mrs. Hamilton interrupted him. "General
Keith," she said, "I cannot permit you to speak
so severely of Betty. She is never disobedient."
"Disobedient or not, she is very mischievous,"
replied General Keith. "My dear madam, you
perhaps did not hear of the dance she led my
nephew by means of a bogus telegram last sum-
mer?"
"I think we are wasting time," said Mr. Hamil-
ton. "General, if you will give me the name of
the livery-stable, I will telephone there and find
out if the man has come in. It will save time
if they will telephone here instead of to your
house. Have I your permission to do this?"
"Certainly; certainly. I detest telephones,
but they have their uses, after all."
Mr. Hamilton went to the instrument in the
hall. Presently General Keith turned to Betty's
mother.
"You must pardon me," he said, with his
most courtly manner, "if I spoke hastily in re-
gard to your daughter. I am very much alarmed
about my grandson. He is lame, and he is quite
ignorant of New York. And he is all I have."
59
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Yes, oh yes! I understand," said Mrs. Ham-
ilton. "We both have cause to be anxious.
We must not quarrel.' She tried to smile as
she spoke.
They were silent again until Mr. Hamilton
came hurriedly into the room. "The coachman
has just come in," he said. "I have been speak-
ing to him myself. He drove a lame boy and a
little girl about the same age, with red, curly
hair, to the Twenty-third Street ferry. They
were going to the Pennsylvania Railroad Station.
He watched them go on board the boat before
he left the ferry-house. Of course, it was Betty
and Christopher."
General Keith started to his feet. "The
Pennsylvania Station!" he exclaimed. "And I
said so distinctly the Grand Central! What
did the boy mean?"
"Suppose we go right down there together,
General. Then we can find out. I will order a
motor-cab."
And in a very few minutes they were off, and
Mrs. Hamilton and Pauline were left to their
weary waiting. And presently Charles came
home and then Florence, and to each was told
the story. They all tried to comfort and en-
courage one another, but it was not easy. If
the children had gone to the wrong station they
must long since have discovered their mistake.
60
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Why, then, had they not come home? And so
the time wore away, and no one came, nor was
there any message. It was no wonder that the
waiting family grew more and more anxious.
But Mr. Hamilton and General Keith had dis-
covered something which was so alarming that
Betty's father dared not telephone to his wife
at all, lest he should betray it in some way. A
woman sitting in the station and watching the
two gentlemen as they made inquiries of the offi-
cials had stopped them as they passed her.
"Are you looking for a lame boy and a girl
with red curls?" she asked, hesitatingly. "There,
I thought so. I suspected there was something
wrong when I saw them go off with him. A man
came up to them and said some general — General
Keith, I think he said, though I won't be certain —
had sent him after them. A tall, dark-haired
man in good clothes, but something queer about
him. They all went out that door. ... Oh no,
I thank you! I'm glad if I've been of any use.
He had dark hair and no mustache and awful
big ears. That's all I could say of his looks.
(There," she added, to herself, "I was mad enough
about missing my train and having to wait three
hours for another, but I guess there was some
good purpose in it, after all, if I've set those gen-
tlemen on the right track to find their children.
My, but it's awful what things are done nowa-
61
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
days! I dare say it '11 all be in the papers to-
morrow. That General Keith is so rich, and I
suppose the scoundrel wants the reward. And
I'm glad that nice gentleman took my name and
address. It will be quite a journey if I have to
come to the city to identify the wretch, but I'd
go farther than that to bring such a scamp as
he must be to justice. Stealing children like
that! I thought at the time he was queer look-
ing.")
WHEN Betty and Christopher, accompanied
by their new friend, left the station, they
started off on a brisk walk through the streets
of Jersey City.
"You won't mind a little walk, I suppose,
after sitting still so long," said their guide, in
his very polite way.
Betty considered him quite the most polite per-
son she had ever known. The way in which he
stepped aside and let her go through a door first,
and the courtly manner with which he touched
her elbow to guide her over a muddy crossing,
made a profound impression on her. She had
never noticed before that gentlemen took ladies
by the elbow to assist them across the street;
but then she had never met a Jersey City gentle-
man, and no doubt it was the custom of the place,
she said to herself. There were other things, too,
that were unusual about their new friend, and
yet she could not have said exactly what they
were. His clothes were not shabby; on the
contrary, they looked very new; but they were
5 63
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
rather aggressive in style, and did not seem to
fit well. His polite manners did not fit well,
either; in fact, they became so exaggerated that
Betty began to wonder if he really were a gentle-
man. Perhaps he was a butler or a groom or a
coachman whom General Keith had sent. She
glanced at his face. He had a rather disagree-
able expression, in spite of his gallant ways. She
had never seen any one with such closely cropped
hair and such enormous ears. She wondered
what Chris thought of him.
The boy was chatting pleasantly. As usual,
he was cordial and friendly. It required some
very pointed incivility or unkindness to make
Christopher suspect ill-will. Then, too, his past
life had thrown him with all sorts and conditions
of men. He would not, therefore, be so apt as
Betty to decide that a man was or was not a
gentleman.
They walked until Christopher felt rather tired.
"I am sorry," he said, looking up in his bright
way at the man, "but I shall have to ask you to
go a little more slowly. You see, I am lame, and
I'm not quite used yet to my artificial leg. I
suppose you didn't know I had one, did you?
Most people don't until I tell them."
"Well, now, I never guessed it at all. You
manage it fine," replied their guide, slackening
his speed slightly, but still walking briskly.
64
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Why don't we take a carriage?" asked Betty.
"Where are we going, anyway? or can't we go
in a car to where General Keith is waiting?"
"No, my little lady, we can't," said the man,
rather less civilly than he had yet spoken. "There
is no car that goes where we're going — at least,
we're not going to take it."
Betty looked at him again. This was cer-
tainly no gentleman.
She had been very stupid to think for an in-
stant that he was one. She had been so pleased
that General Keith had at last sent for them, and
so impressed by the manners of his emissary, that
she had not been as discriminating as usual.
"Which ferry do we take?" she asked next.
"You wait and see."
This was certainly peculiar, not to say pro-
voking.
"I am accustomed," said Betty, very loftily,
"to have people answer my questions."
"Well, my little lady, it's time you got used
to something different."
They walked on in silence for some time.
Christopher grew rather pale.
"I am very sorry," said he, at last, "but I
think we will have to take a car or a carriage.
My leg is hurting, and my grandfather never
allows me to walk when it is hurting."
The man muttered something beneath his
65
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
breath which to Betty's keen ears sounded amaz-
ingly like a "swear word." She was becoming
very much puzzled. If General Keith had sent
this person to bring his grandson to him, he
surely would have given directions that he
should ride, at least, in a car. Had the General
really sent him? For the first time a well-de-
fined suspicion that all was not as it should be
entered Betty's mind, and having once gained
entrance it stayed there. She reviewed the
situation and the details of this man's first ap-
pearance in the station. He had known Chris-
topher's name, and he had certainly spoken of
General Keith by name and said that he had
sent him. He had mentioned, too, that the
General had been detained by business. Oh, it
must be all right! There could be no other pos-
sible way for him to have arrived at the knowl-
edge of the affairs of General Keith and Chris-
topher.
While she was thinking these things the man
had hailed a passing car. Betty had just time
enough to see the word "Hoboken" upon it
when they all entered it and the car sped on its
way. Now this seemed more remarkable than
anything yet. It could not be possible that
General Keith should be awaiting Christopher in
Hoboken. People only went to Hoboken to sail
for Europe, she was sure. She wished that she
66
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
might have a word with Chris, but the man was
sitting between them; in fact, the man had
always placed himself between them since they
started on their walk. She had not had the
smallest opportunity to speak to Chris. It sud-
denly occurred to her that it might be a good
plan to speak in French if the chance came.
She was quite sure that they would not be under-
stood. The person who had them in charge
did not look like one who was conversant with
other languages than his own. Betty did not
feel at all frightened. Her mind was so alert
and her spirit so intrepid that she never thought
of being alarmed. Her one idea was to find out
what the man was planning to do, and to escape
from his clutches as soon as possible.
She looked out of the window, and, from the
numerous German names and signs that she saw,
concluded that they were in Hoboken. She had
been over there many times with Gertrude to
visit her nurse's relatives, who were respectable,
well-to-do people, and who lived very comfortably
in German fashion, and Betty had always en-
joyed going to see them; but she knew perfectly
well that it was not at all probable that General
Keith should have business in Hoboken and send
for Christopher to meet him there.
At last the man stopped the car, and they all got
out. Betty stepped quickly to Christopher's side.
67
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"It is all very strange," she said, in French.
She was glad enough now that they both under-
stood it. Even the despised language ot Marie
had its uses in an emergency. "I don't think
your grandfather sent him. General Keith
wouldn't have any business to do in Hoboken,
unless he were going to sail for Europe. Perhaps
the man is stealing us. What had we better do?"
Her French was by no means perfect, but
Chris fortunately could understand it. The man
did not, and consequently objected to its being
used.
"See here," said he, in a very rude way, "you'd
better shut up. We don't want any of that lingo.
Straight American 's good enough for us."
"I think I shall speak French if I want to,"
said Betty — "or German either," she added, not
sorry to display her linguistic powers. "Quick!"
she said, again in French. "We mustn't let
him take us into a house. If we once got shut
up in a house we might never get out."
This suggestion was horrible.
"If we could only see somebody we knew!"
suggested Christopher.
"Somebody we knew! We shall never meet
any one we know in Hoboken — unless it were
Gertrude or some of her family. Oh, how I do
wish we might meet Gertrude! Have you any
money?"
68
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Shut up, I tell you!" exclaimed the man,
angrily. "There's no need at all for you to be
holding consultations."
"I don't know why you speak to us in that
way," said Christopher, gravely. "If my grand-
father sent you for me, I know he would not
mind my talking to Betty in French if I want
to. Where are we to meet my grandfather?"
"Where he's waiting, and no place else. We'll
get to the house soon."
They were both startled by this announcement.
It was to a house, then, that he intended taking
them! Betty determined to make a fight. If
he took her into a house he would have to carry
her screaming and kicking. She would arouse
the neighborhood. She would call the police.
The police! That was an idea. Strange that
it had not occurred to her before. She looked
eagerly up and down the streets. She actually
saw a policeman standing on a corner a block
away; but, to her disappointment, the man
turned the corner that they were then on. She
remembered that he had turned a great many
abrupt corners in the course of their walk. Oh,
what should they do? For the first time her
courage failed. She felt miserably, horribly
frightened.
But almost in the same moment that terror
came, hope revived. She was suddenly impressed
69
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
with the fact that she had been on this street
before. The houses looked familiar, and she had
often read the name and the signs on that beer-
shop across the way. Was it — could it be — yes,
it was the street where Gertrude's relatives lived !
They must pass the very house.
"Pretend you are very tired," she said, quickly,
in French. "Stop, and say you can't walk an-
other step. I know what to do. But please,
please do as I say. Attract his attention some-
how. It will give me more time."
Christopher obeyed her implicitly. He could
not imagine why she made this request, but he
had perfect confidence in Betty. He stopped
abruptly. "I can't walk another step," he said.
" You will have to get a carriage or do something.
I have got to sit down on these steps."
He did so, and the man turned to him in wrath
and impatience. "Get right up and — " But he
did not finish his sentence. To the utter amaze-
ment of both, Betty ran up the steps of a house
a few doors farther on and pulled the bell-handle
again and again, at the same time pounding on
the door and shouting at the top of her voice.
' ' Frau Schmidt ! Frau Schmidt ! " she shrieked.
"It's Betty Hamilton! Quick! Open the door!
Frau Schmidt! Chris, shout, too! Make all the
noise you can! Police! Fire! Murder! Thieves!
Frau Schmidt! Police!"
70
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
In an instant the door of the beer-shop across
the way was opened and that of the little butcher-
shop next doer to it, and the doors of some of
the houses, and windows were thrown up all
along the street and heads were thrust out.
What was the matter? Frau Schmidt came
running to her door, followed by her daughters.
"Ach! Himmel !" she cried. "Es ist Fraulein
Betti! Gertrud! Gertrud! Hier ist das kleine
Fraulein. Was haben sie?"
And, wonderful to relate, Gertrude herself
emerged from the front door to find her precious
charge, whom she had supposed was at home in
Madison Avenue, shouting aloud in the streets
of Hoboken, while a few doors away a boy who
must be Christopher Lovel sat upon the door-step
and also shouted for the police and the fire-engines;
and so much engaged were they all in looking
and wondering at the children, and in asking
them, with many exclamations of "Ach!" and
"Himmel!" why they were behaving in this ex-
traordinary manner, that they paid no attention
to the man who was walking rapidly up the street,
and who, turning the nearest corner, was soon
lost to sight.
It would be impossible to describe the amaze-
ment of Gertrude or the relief of Betty and Chris-
topher at this meeting. It was, indeed, most re-
markable that they should have been led to the
71
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
very door of their friends. When Gertrude
heard the account of their experiences and of
their wonderful escape from the clutches of their
abductor, she knelt down among them all and
thanked the good Lord for preserving her darling
from harm. Then, rising, Gertrude took Betty in
her arms and kissed her, the tears coming into her
eyes, and her strong German face working with
emotion. Betty had never seen her so moved
since one night, long ago, when Pauline was ill,
and it was feared she might not recover. At
last she overcame her emotion, and, after ques-
tioning them once more, she remembered that
they should lose no time in communicating with
Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, who must by this time
be sadly alarmed by Betty's prolonged absence.
It was now long after five o'clock, and she could
well imagine how uneasy Mrs. Hamilton must
be. The full iniquity of Marie, of course, she
did not guess, although she had given several
exclamations in German, which Betty knew were
scathing in significance, when she was told that
Marie had been willing to leave Betty at General
Keith's while she went to see a cousin.
Gertrude hurried across the street to a public
telephone, and soon the glad news was communi-
cated to Mrs. Hamilton, and then the good woman
and the children entered a carriage which had
been sent for, and amid the farewells of a throng
72
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of people they started for home. Betty, her
alarms a thing of the past, thoroughly enjoyed
her unusual position. She felt herself to be a
very great personage indeed as she left the house
of Schmidt, with all the Schmidts on the steps
to see them off, and Herr Schmidt, who had come
home and heard the news, to close the carriage
door, and all the neighbors standing on the side-
walk, and even in the middle of the street, to bid
them farewell. At first the excitement of all
which they had been through, and the novelty
of the drive from Hoboken, had an exhilarating
effect upon both Betty and Christopher; but very
soon that wore off, and the two tired children
fell asleep, each with a head on Gertrude's com-
fortable shoulders as she sat between them on
the broad seat of the hack. They had walked a
very great distance, and it was not surprising that
they were exhausted.
It was a long drive from Hoboken to the Ham-
iltons' house on Madison Avenue — first to the ferry
and then across, and then with many delays and
slow progress up-town; but at last it was over,
and the carriage stopped in front of the well-
known door. And then the door was thrown
open, and down the steps came Mrs. Hamilton
herself, and Charles and William to help them
out, with Florence and Pauline close behind,
and all the maids looking on. It was even more
73
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
thrilling than the departure from the home of
the Schmidts, and very much more delightful;
for it was, indeed, good to get home.
"Oh, mamma, mamma!" cried Betty, with
her arms tight around her mother's neck, after
they were all safe in the house, "I'm afraid
you've been terribly frightened about me, and I
know it was all my fault. I oughtn't to have
stopped to see Chris. But I was only going to
stay a minute, and then Thomas fell down dead,
and I had to go with Chris to find his grandfather.
I'm so sorry, but I never thought about any-
thing but helping Chris. I forgot it would take
so long to go to the station."
" My darling, we will talk it all over to-morrow,"
said Mrs. Hamilton, in her tender way. Chris-
topher, watching her face, thought it even more
beautiful than he had before.
She looked up quickly, and met his steady gaze.
His eyes were very solemn. He was not envious
of Betty, but he felt sorry that he had no mother
to take him in her arms like that when he came
home. By some instinct Mrs. Hamilton read his
thought as clearly as though he had spoken.
She held out her hand and smiled at him. Chris
went quickly to her side.
"Dear boy," she said, putting her arm about
him and drawing him close to her, "I am glad
Betty was with you, as you are both safely out
74
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
of it now. You are very tired, aren't you?
Would you like to have me ask your grandfather
to let you spend the night here? I should so like
to have you for my boy, just this once. Will
you stay?"
"Oh, I wish I could!" he answered, eagerly;
"but I am afraid my grandfather will want me
at home. I ought to be there now, to tell him
I'm safe. I was waiting for a chance to ask you
please to let me go."
"Your grandfather knows you are safe, and
he will soon be here himself. He and Mr. Ham-
ilton have been looking for you, and sometime
after Gertrude telephoned, Mr. Hamilton called
me up, to tell me they had not found you yet;
and then we could give them the wonderful
news that you were safe, and were coming — that
you were on the way."
And while she spoke the front door was heard
to open, and Mr. Hamilton and the General
came in.
It was hard for Christopher to realize that this
was his dignified and austere grandfather. His
customary coldness and apparent severity were
laid aside. He was so rejoiced and thankful to
receive again his dearly loved grandson, the boy
who had gained a place in his affections even be-
fore he knew him to be his daughter's son, and
who ever since then had daily become more
75
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
and more precious to him, that he forgot to scold
or even to question him as to his mistake in
regard to the stations. This, no doubt, would
come to-morrow; to-night there was only joy
and thankfulness. Instead of censuring Betty for
having been the means (as he strongly suspected)
of Christopher's becoming involved in such an
adventure, he complimented her, in his most
courtly gentleman-of-the-old-school manner, for
her acuteness of perception and her presence of
mind, first in detecting that the man was an
impostor, and then in speaking French in order
to make known her suspicions to Christopher,
and upon her "clever device" for bringing the
Schmidts to their aid.
Betty was charmed, and decided that, after all,
General Keith was a very pleasant old gentle-
man. When he consented to the request that
Christopher should spend the night there, she was
still more inclined to like him. It was plainly
to be seen that he would prefer to take him home
with him, but realizing the boy's fatigue he knew
that it would be better for him to stay where
he was. Presently, when he rose to go, Betty
went to him.
"I hope you will excuse me for influencing
Chris to go to the wrong station," she said. "It
was not his fault at all."
"Oh yes, it was, Betty," said the boy. "I
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
ought to have known better, oughtn't I, grand-
father?"
"So it seems to me," said General Keith.
"No, it was really my fault, and I am truly
sorry," persisted Betty. "Will you please ex-
cuse me?" She held out her hand.
The General took it in his own, and they shook
hands very impressively. "I assure you," said
he, "that your mistake was most natural."
"I like you better than I ever thought I
should," continued Betty. "I am really not
surprised that Chris loves you so much. You
see, General Keith, you are so very icy in your
way of speaking that it kind of freezes me to
think of loving you, but Chris always has."
"Thank you," said the General, again shak-
ing hands with her. "You could not have
told me anything more gratifying for me to
hear."
"And another thing," added Betty: "I think
that, excepting my father, you are the gentle-
manliest gentleman I ever met. I should like
to have you for a friend."
"Betty!" exclaimed Mrs. Hamilton. And all
the rest of her family also exclaimed: "Betty!"
But the old General actually smiled.
"Thank you, Miss Betty," said he, again.
"The desire is mutual."
And, strangely enough, the compact entered
77
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
into that night was never broken, in spite of
many severe strains that were laid upon it.
Many efforts were made to find the man who
had tried to steal the children, and for a long
time the police of the three cities kept a sharp
watch for such a person as he was described to
be. It was supposed that he had been near them
in the station, and so had overheard their remarks
and the mention of General Keith's name. As
the General was known to be very wealthy, it had
no doubt occurred to the man that this might
be an easy way to procure money — by holding
the children for a ransom. Be this as it may,
the man had escaped pursuit, and had probably
gone now to some distant place where he was in
no danger of detection.
VI
A DAY or two later General Keith and his
grandson left New York for Boston, having
waited for Thomas's complete recovery, that he
might be with them. His injury was not severe
in itself, although it had made him unconscious
for a time, and very soon he was about again and
able to perform his usual duties. The nights
passed in Boston at one of the large hotels were
like many other nights at other large hotels, which
had been part of Christopher's experiences since
his life with his grandfather began. They were
all the same: the arrival, the obsequious hotel
clerks, the spacious suite of apartments, the
music while they dined, the well-dressed people,
the hurrying bell-boys — all these, which had at
first seemed so interesting to the little lame boy,
whose former life had been full of the anxieties
of poverty and ill-health, had now become an
old and rather dull story.
No one would have guessed, however, that he
considered it dull, and his grandfather, finding
Christopher the most desirable companion whom
6 79
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
he had yet encountered in the course of his long
journey through life, took it completely for
granted that he himself was all whom Christopher
needed. He frowned upon the children with
whom the boy chanced to become acquainted in
their travels, and never encouraged further in-
timacy. To Christopher's friendly soul this was
something of a trial, but as yet his own nature
had not ventured to assert itself. Neither he
nor his grandfather knew its strength. The peo-
ple with whom he had lived had not all been kind.
His grandfather loved him, and for this he was
grateful. He never forgot that his changed cir-
cumstances were entirely due to this stern old
man, and he cheerfully gave up the friends of
his own age whom he chanced to find, and de-
voted himself to his grandfather.
They stayed two nights in Boston for General
Keith to attend to his business with his acquaint-
ance, who lived, at Chestnut Hill, and then, early
on the second morning, they drove to the station
to take the train for Maybury. The journey
from Boston was by a more direct route than
that from New York, and as General Keith seat-
ed himself in his chair in the parlor-car, he re-
marked, with satisfaction to Christopher, that
they should not be obliged to change.
"That is one reason," said he, "why I prefer
to come to Boston. It takes an extra day, but
80
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
it is easier. Are you comfortable, my boy?
Have you something to read? Nothing? Well,
the newsboy will be coming through soon, and
then you can buy yourself some of the magazines
and weeklies. Get anything you like. Here is
some money."
The General gave him two dollars, and then,
wheeling about in his chair, he opened his news-
paper, and was soon absorbed in its contents.
Christopher understood that he was not to be
disturbed. His grandfather did not like to be
spoken to while he was reading the financial
news. There was nothing to be seen of him
now but the top of his head and the huge paper,
so Chris amused himself by looking out of the
window or studying his fellow-passengers, while
he awaited the coming through of the boy who
sold books and papers.
At last the well-known cry was heard: "Boston
and New York papers! All the latest maga-
zines ! Harper 's, Century, Scribner's, Puck, Judge,
Life, Harper's Weekly, Ladies' Home Journal out
to-day! Papers?" It sounded to Christopher
just like every other newsboy he had listened to
in every other train, and yet there was something
in this boy's voice that he associated with other
things than newspapers and magazines. He
leaned over the arm of his chair and looked at
the news-agent as he came down the aisle of the
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
car. He wore the regulation blue uniform with
brass buttons, and a military cap with a visor.
He was tall and big, and as Chris watched him
make his slow progress toward him he felt quite
sure that he had seen this lad somewhere else,
but whether it was as a newsboy on some train
or in some quite different place he could not
determine. He seemed to be doing a brisk busi-
ness, for nearly every passenger made a purchase,
and Chris wondered if anything would be left
for him.
"Have you got a St. Nicholas?" he asked, when
the youth in uniform at last reached his chair.
"No, but I can get you one at the next stop.
Puck, Judge, Life — all the comic papers."
Christopher looked up at him. "I'll take one
of each," said he, "and grandfather gave me two
dollars, so give me some magazines that have a
lot of pictures, please — two dollars' worth. Why,
I know who you are! You're George Smith!"
"That's my name, sure, and I know who you
are, too. You're little Chris Lovel! I saw you
the minute you came on board, but I wasn't
going to let on until you spoke first. I say,
you're no end of a swell now, ain't you, spendin'
two plunks as easy as nothin'?"
"Oh no, I'm not a swell," replied Chris.
"That's my grandfather's two dollars. I'm aw-
fully glad to see you, George! How's Lucy?"
82
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"She's all right, last I heard of her. I'm a
railroad man now, and don't get no time to go to
Maybury. My route only goes half-way, and then
I take a train back. I've got to go on through
now, but I'll come back when I get your St.
Nicholas."
He passed on, and Christopher piled up his
purchases neatly, and thought, with satisfaction,
of this very unexpected meeting with an old
friend. He glanced at his grandfather; but see-
ing that he was still absorbed in his paper, and
had apparently heard nothing of the conversa-
tion, he did not speak to him. Chris felt so happy
about seeing a Maybury friend that he would
have been glad to share his pleasure with his
grandfather. There was no one else to speak
to about it, for Thomas was travelling in another
car, so there was nothing to do but wait until
George appeared again, which Chris hoped might
soon be the case.
George Smith was a boy who had lived at May-
bury in somewhat peculiar circumstances. He
was several years older than Christopher, and
was now apparently engaged in making his
fortune — or, at least, in earning a living. Being a
"railroad man" sounded so very grand and grown-
up that Chris felt distinctly impressed. George
at one time was very poor. His mother had died
at Maybury the preceding summer, and his sister
83
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Lucy had gone to live with an aunt, Miss Lucetta
Smith, who was also the aunt of the Rachel Amy
Martin, whom Chris and Betty had spoken of.
Christopher thought it all over while he looked
out of the window. He wondered if the Smiths
and Martins still lived in the house that was
divided in half by a wire netting, and he smiled
when he remembered the fright he had had in
that very house when the wire screen was being
put up by the man who had been so unkind to
him before his accident. It seemed so strange
that he had ever been afraid of Peter Snell, now
that he was so safe in the guardianship of his
grandfather. He peeped around the back of
his grandfather's chair, and saw that he had
finished the financial page and was reading the
news of the day, so he ventured to stretch out
his hand and pat the old man's arm on the side
nearer the window, where nobody would see him.
"What do you want, boy?" asked General
Keith, not looking around.
"Nothing," said Chris. "I just thought I'd
feel you. I'm glad I live with you, grand." It
was a pet name he used occasionally.
"Humph!" said General Keith, "I'm glad
you do."
It was not much, but to both of them the words
as well as the action meant a great deal. They
understood each other perfectly.
84
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
After awhile George Smith came through again.
This time he carried a St. Nicholas. "Here you
are, Chris," said he. "I say, will you give some-
thing to my sister Lucy? Don't let on to any
one else. I can't write. I hate writin' worse
than anything. You just tell her, will you, that
you seen me, and I'm well, and gettin' along
O. K., and I want you to give her this." He
placed an envelope in Christopher's hand. "And
you just keep quiet to everybody. It's five
dollars," he whispered, leaning over him. "I've
been savin' it up for Lucy. You tell her to go
over to South Maybury and get anything she
likes at the Boston Store — a dress, or a hat, or
candy, or a diamond ring. Lucy always said
she was going to have a diamond ring when she
grew up."
"Can you get one for five dollars?" asked
Chris, as he tucked the precious envelope into his
safest pocket.
"Oh, I guess you can at the Boston Store in
South Maybury," said George, laughing. "May-
be not the kind that would do for John D., but
good enough for us. You tell her I'll be comin'
to see her and Aunt Lucetta one of these days
before summer's over, and I'll — "
"'Christopher, who is this?"
The boys both started as the cold, high-bred
tones fell on their ears. They had forgotten that
85
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
they were on a train, that Chris was the grand-
son of the severe old General, that George was
but a newsboy, and that business was business
and possible purchasers were being kept wait-
ing. "Oh, grandfather, I thought you were
reading! I'm glad you're not. This is George
Smith. I knew him very well when I lived at
Toppan Farm, didn't I, George?"
"Humph!" said the General, but not in the
same way in which he had said it a few minutes
before when Chris patted his arm. "How do you
do?" he said, with a barely perceptible nod.
Smith, who had rested his pile of books on
the arm of Christopher's chair while they talked,
picked them up, settled the strap, and prepared
to pass on. "Puck, Judge, Life! All the comic
papers! Ladies' Home Journal out to-day!" he
called out, in a high, penetrating voice, as he
walked down the aisle.
"It isn't worth while for you to greet every-
body from Maybury as an intimate friend, Chris-
topher," said General Keith.
"Well, no, I suppose not intimate," said Chris.
"And I never was intimate with George, but he
was a friend. All the Smith family were friends,
but George went away after his mother died, so
I didn't have a chance to get very intimate. The
first time I ever knew George at all he picked
me up when I had fallen down in the road. You
86
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
know it used to be very hard for me to get up,
grand, when I fell down — I mean when I was
using crutches."
"Humph!" said his grandfather.
"There!" exclaimed Chris, regretfully, "I
never asked George if he noticed that I don't
use crutches any more."
The General moved impatiently in his chair
and opened another newspaper. "Read your
magazine," said he, "and don't talk about your
crutches. Why should you remember things that
made you unhappy?"
Christopher laughed. "Oh, the crutches didn't
make me unhappy, grand," he said. "I don't
believe I was ever so happy in my life as when I
began to use them at the Home, and Jess and
Agnes and everybody watching me to see how I
got along. Crutches are pretty good things when
you've only got one leg. But of course it's much
better not to have to use them, and I wish George
had noticed."
He settled back in his chair and turned over
the pages of his magazines, hoping that George
would return. But when he did, the news-agent
passed by without stopping; in fact, he did not
even glance at Christopher, which was disap-
pointing. Chris remembered that George had
always been very quick to take offence, and to
keep at a distance if he thought that he was not
87
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
welcome. He wished that he could make George
understand that his grandfather was not really a
cross person, that it was only a severe manner.
The next time the news-agent came through he
would certainly stop him and make known to
him that a cane now occupied the place of the
crutches, and that even a cane would not long
be necessary. But just at the moment when the
cry of "Puck, Judge, Life" again fell upon the
ears of the passengers, General Keith wheeled
his chair around toward the window and engaged
his grandson in conversation. It was impossible
for Christopher to turn away from him to hail
George, so the last opportunity passed by, for
the boy did not go through the car again, and at
the next stopping-place Chris saw him out on the
platform of the station, evidently awaiting a
train that would carry him back to Boston. He
looked up at Christopher's face in the window,
however, glanced at General Keith in the place
in front, and, seeing that the old gentleman was
absorbed in his papers again, he stepped close to
the car. Chris opened his window.
"Don't tell anybody but Lucy," said Smith.
"Promise!"
"I promise," said Chris. "I'll give it to her
as soon as I can. George, did you notice — "
And then the train began to move. "Good-bye!"
shouted Chris. "It was George Smith," he said
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
to his grandfather, who looked around at this.
"He goes back to Boston now. Isn't it splendid
he has steady work, grandfather? I am sure
you would like George if you only knew him
better."
"It is a privilege I can get along without,"
replied General Keith.
At last the long day in the cars drew to a
close, and they were now approaching Maybury.
"There's the lake!" exclaimed Chris. "The first
time — " Then he remembered, and was silent.
He had been about to refer to his first visit to
Maybury, to his first sight of Maybury Lake;
but he bethought himself in time that his grand-
father strongly objected to being reminded of
the fact that it was not he who had found Chris-
topher and brought him up to Maybury from the
city and the Home where he had lived. It was
Mr. Toppan, of Toppan Farm — or "Uncle Dan,"
as Chris called him.
When the train stopped and they stepped
upon the platform, there was Mr. Toppan himself
standing among the group of men who were al-
ways at the station at this hour.
"Uncle Dan!" called out Christopher. "Oh,
I'm so glad to see you!" He went quickly to
him, and the tall farmer stooped over and took
him in his arms.
"My little son of sunshine!" said Daniel Top-
89
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
pan. "My little son of sunshine! Where are
the crutches, boy?"
"Gone!" laughed Chris. "Don't need crutches
any more. I've got two legs now nearly as good
as anybody's — not quite. See me!" And he
marched up and down the platform.
All the other men came forward and shook
hands with him. He was a great favorite in
Maybury, and even their awe of the General did
not deter them from welcoming and congratulat-
ing the lame boy. General Keith had passed
them all with a curt nod except Mr. Toppan.
He had paused long enough to shake hands with
him and inquire for Mrs. Toppan.
"The boy will come to see you soon," he said
as he entered his carriage, which was drawn up
at the other side of the station. "Come, Chris-
topher, the horses don't like the train," he added.
And in a moment they were off, the spirited
horses prancing and dancing along the dusty
country road.
"The old General's as proud as ever," said the
postmaster, as he shouldered the mail-bag and
started for the store — "proud as ever; but he
don't seem to have had much effect that way on
Chris."
"As nice a boy as ever was," replied Sam Wil-
son, the village humorist, who was the post-
master's usual companion. "Bright, too. Do
90
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
you mind the time Tim Tarleton tried to make
him tell what he was carryin' in his basket to
the Widder Martin ? Poor Tim ! Guess he wishes
by this time he didn't have the widder's baskets
to kerry!"
Mr. Toppan walked slowly homeward. He did
not usually frequent the station at this hour,
but the longing to see Chris had brought him
there. All the village had known that General
Keith was expected to arrive that night.
"There never was a boy like him," said Daniel
Toppan, aloud. There was no one near to hear
him, now that he had turned off from the main
street of the village. The dust left by the wagon
with General Keith's trunks still lingered in the
air, for the road led beyond the Toppan farm
to Keith Hall — "never was nor never will be.
If it makes me ache like this to have him come
back and not belong to us, how will it make
Marthy feel?"
Marthy was Mrs. Toppan. They had wished
to adopt Christopher until it was discovered
that he was the General's grandson, after Daniel
had brought him to Maybury from the Home
and he had passed the summer at the farm.
Mrs. Toppan was on the piazza when the boy
drove past. He leaned forward and waved his
cap. Then he turned to his grandfather. "Please
let me get out. Please, please, grand! James,
91
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
stop. Grand, you'll let James stop while I
speak to her?"
The carriage came to a halt a short distance
beyond the house, and Christopher climbed down.
If his grandfather objected, he did not say so.
Mrs. Toppan came quickly across the grass.
"I'm coming to see you to-morrow," said
Chris, after he had kissed her again and again,
and while her arms were still around him, "but
when I saw you I just couldn't wait. And I
don't use crutches any more, you see. Isn't
that splendid? And I'm to have a pony of my
own. And I've seen Betty, and they're coming
to Maybury soon, and — and — oh, I'm glad to
get back! I'm glad to see you, auntie!"
"Come, Christopher!" called General Keith.
"There, go, child. Don't keep him waiting,
but come when you can," whispered Mrs. Toppan.
She stood looking up the road long after the
carriage had passed out of sight and the wagon
with the baggage had rumbled by. Then she
turned and went back to her rocking-chair on
the piazza. She was knitting quietly when her
husband came into sight.
"Did you see him?" asked Mr. Toppan, speak-
ing with unaccustomed eagerness. "Did he see
you? Did he bow?"
"Bow! Dan'el Toppan! He had the carriage
stop, and he got out and ran to meet me. There's
92
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
no change in him except for the better. All the
money in the world couldn't spoil him."
"That's true," said Daniel, sorting the mail
he had brought. "Nothing for you, Marthy.
Yes, that's very true. And the General? What
did he do?"
"Oh, he bowed very politely, same as he al-
ways does. He was in a hurry, though, to get
home, but that was natural enough. Chris says
he'll be here to-morrow. Seems as if I just
couldn't wait. I'll go tell Anna about his stop-
ping the carriage." And she went into the house
to share her joy with the hired girl.
vn
'EITH HALL, General Keith's home at May-
bury, was justly celebrated for its beauty
in all that part of the State. The grounds, which
were many acres in extent, were kept at the
highest point of cultivation. Those near the
house consisted of lawns and gardens, while far-
ther away there were groves of stately trees,
woods, fields, and orchards. The General was
especially interested in the growing of roses, and
it had been a keen delight to him to recognize in
Christopher an inherited love of flowers. This,
with his musical taste and his desire to ride,
pleased the grandfather, who cared for just those
things. He unconsciously assumed that they
would feel alike about everything else. He de-
cided that the boy resembled him precisely, and
he systematically treated him as he would wish
to be dealt with himself, making no allowance
for the difference in years, nor for the traits which
Christopher had inherited from others who were
equally near him in blood.
The new pony which had been promised to
94
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Chris was already in the stable, and within half
an hour of his arrival he was in the saddle. This
was not the first time he had been on horseback,
for he had taken lessons while they were trav-
elling abroad, and now he rode up and down the
avenue and around the circle where the road
swept up to the house with the ease of an accus-
tomed horseman. The General stood on the
steps of the piazza and watched him, while a
group of stablemen gathered at a little distance.
"Sit a little straighter," called out General
Keith, "and keep a light hand on the bridle!
Your horse has a good mouth. Don't spoil it."
"Strikes me the old gentleman's pretty hard
to please," said Hooker, a new man on the place.
"Oh, that's only the General's way," replied
James, the coachman, in the same low tone.
"He's that proud of the boy he can scarcely hold
it, but he wouldn't let on he was for nothin'.
It takes a mighty good bit of work to get any
praise out of the General, but he's a good master,
all the same. He just worships that boy, and
no wonder."
"Makin' up for lost time, maybe," said Hooker,
who, like every one else, knew the story.
"He's the best horse I ever knew!" cried Chris-
topher, riding up to the steps.
"How many have you known?"
"Oh, ever so many! All the farm-horses and
i 95
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
old Jerry at Toppan Farm, and those we rode in
Europe, and the carriage-horses and your Angus.
I like Peter better than any of them. I don't
like his name, though. Do you think he'd feel
badly, grand, if I were to change his name?
You know that person was named Peter."
"I know," said the General, hastily. "By all
means, change it. Call him anything you like.
Better come in now."
" I'll think it over," said Chris, as he dismounted
and stood patting the little bay's smooth neck
and stroking his velvet nose. "I'll give you the
nicest name I can think of, dearest," he whispered,
"and then you won't be at all sorry you had to
change it — only proud."
He watched Hooker lead the horse away, and
then he followed his grandfather into the house.
Presently they were seated at the dinner-table,
the General at the head and Christopher at the
foot, with a man behind each chair, just as they
did in New York. This had impressed Chris-
topher deeply when he first carne to live with
his grandfather, accustomed, as he was, to the
farm-house table, and before that to a life that
was yet more destitute of style and luxury; but
now he had become used to wealth and grandeur,
and he took it all as a matter of course. There
had been so many changes in the circumstances
of his short life that anything was possible.
96
ILL GIVE YOU THE NICEST NAME I CAN THINK OF, DEAREST, HE
WHISPERED"
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Thus far nothing had been permanent. He some-
times wondered if life as it was now would con-
tinue long. This crossed his mind as he ate his
fruit at the end of dinner. The servants had
left the room.
"If I have to go from here I think I'll be a
railroad man, too," he said, with a suddenness
that was a bit startling to his grandfather.
"What do you mean?" asked General Keith,
putting down his empty coffee-cup. "Go from
here?"
"I might have to, grandfather. I've changed
lots of times. And if I have to change again I
think I'll be a railroad man, and sell books and
papers on trains. I might go into partnership
with George Smith, and perhaps I'd get to be a
conductor after awhile."
"Do you realize that I am your grandfather —
that you are my grandson?"
"Why, yes, grand, of course. But, you see,
I've always been that, and yet I have been very,
very poor, and I might get poor again, and then
I'd be older, so I would have to work, and that's
what I mean."
"Christopher" — the old man's voice, usually
so hard and cold, was tender — "Chris, my boy,
don't speak so. You will always live with me
now, and when I die, if you have been a good
boy and have always done as I said, my money
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
will be yours — the greater part of it. Your work
will be to take care of it properly."
Christopher looked around the room, at the
silver on the sideboard, the pictures on the walls,
the glass and silver on the table at which they
sat, and through the open door of the dining-
room into the music-room beyond. It had never
occurred to him before that some day all this
might be his. He was very ignorant, in spite of
his experience with trouble.
"You are very kind, grand," said he, at last.
"Kind? Why, you're my own flesh and blood,
boy."
Christopher was silent for a moment.
"What are you thinking of?" demanded the
General.
" I was thinking — Oh, grandfather, you would
rather I didn't say it!"
" I insist upon your telling me."
" I was thinking perhaps mother and father
wouldn't have — have been so sick — if — if you
had only found me sooner, dear grandfather. It
was such a pity .you couldn't find us when we
needed you so much. But, grand, I don't see
why you feel so very badly about it. It isn't as
if you hadn't tried to find us. That would have
been awful."
The old General rose from his seat and walked
quickly to one of the windows. Chris caught a
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
glimpse of his face as he did so, and the boy left
his place also, and, following him, he thrust his
hand into that of his grandfather.
"Don't look so, grand!" he said, looking up at
him. "It isn't as if you hadn't tried."
General Keith was silent. He was a brave
man in battle, and men feared him in the ordinary
transactions of daily life, but he lacked the moral
courage to confess to this little boy, who loved
and trusted him, that he not "tried" in time.
The next morning dawned bright and warm.
It was early in April — so early that up in this
New England hill country there were yet but few
signs of green. But spring was coming. There
was the softer air, the smell of earth, the in-
tangible something that whispers of change and
sends a thrill of expectation, half-glad, half-sad,
through all who truly live. Chris felt it, although
he could not have described the feeling, as he
rode slowly away from Keith Hall that April
morning on his way to fulfil his promise to George
Smith. That part of his errand he was obliged
to keep a secret from his grandfather, for he had
promised to speak of George's gift to no one but
his sister. He had obtained permission to go to
Toppan Farm, and he intended to continue on
from there to the village. He would tell his
grandfather afterward where he had been. Ben
accompanied him, the groom whose especial
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
business was to be this very duty of riding with
Chris and taking entire charge of his horse. He
had been brought from New York by James, the
coachman, and therefore knew nothing of the
country about Maybury.
There was a great deal to be seen as well as
said at the farm. It was necessary to go all over
the house and barn, speak to each person and each
horse, look at the cows, visit the hen-house, and
even call upon the pigs — not to speak of the long
talk with Mrs. Toppan and Anna, and with Mr.
Toppan and the hired men — closely accompanied
through it all by Dandy, the dog, who was over-
joyed at seeing Chris once more, and never left
him for an instant. An hour passed very quickly
to Christopher but not to Ben, who walked the
horses up and down the road, and longed for a
New York life once more. At last Chris remem-
bered that he had another call to make, and
mounting his pony, which had already been dis-
played to the admiring eyes of all his friends, he
rode off in the direction of the village, turning in
the saddle to wave his riding-stick in farewell as
he did so.
"Well, well, it's just too wonderful!" said Mrs.
Toppan, as she stood looking after him as he rode
away. "When I think of that poor, thin little
fellow on crutches who came here last summer,
without a friend or a penny to his name, and now
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
to see that fine young gentleman riding his own
horse and his own servant riding behind, and all
in this short time — why, Dan'el it's — it's won-
derful!"
Mr. Toppan did not speak for a moment. Then,
as he turned to go back to his work, he said,
quietly: "It certainly is, Marthy. And it makes
me kind of tremble when I think how near I was
to keeping him out of it."
"No, you wasn't, Dan'el. I know you better
than you know yourself, I guess. It was just a
temptation sent to try you. We think often-
times we're near yielding, but those who love
us know we're strong enough to stand it."
Daniel Toppan turned again and came back
to her. He put his arm through hers, and they
walked together to the kitchen door. "I guess,"
said he, "it's that very faith in us that those
who love us have that keeps us from doing wrong
things mighty often. It ain't so much our
strength as it is theirs."
"Well, I'm no hand at reasoning a thing out,"
replied Mrs. Toppan, "but I maintain there's
strength somewhere where there's love, for that's
the strongest thing in the world."
"You're right there, Marthy." And then he
went out to his plough, which he had left in a
distant field when he came in to see Christopher,
and Mrs. Toppan returned to her housework.
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Chris rode to the village, and after stopping in
front of the store to greet the postmaster and
other friends, he crossed the road, and, dismount-
ing, entered the side gate of the house where Lucy
Smith lived with her aunt Lucetta. There was
a curious history attached to this house. Miss
Lucetta Smith had lived in it all her life, as
had also her sister, Mrs. Martin. The preceding
summer Miss Smith had brought home the chil-
dren of a brother, and Mrs. Martin, objecting to
this, had caused to be built a partition of wire
netting, dividing the house exactly in half from
the cellar to the roof. On one side of this she
lived with her daughter Rachel Amy, and kept
a sharp and constant watch upon the doings of
her relatives in the other half of the house, al-
though she never spoke to them.
Chris found Lucy alone. Miss Lucetta had
gone to South Maybury to do some shopping, and
had left her niece to look after things at home.
As it was Saturday, she was not at school. It was,
therefore, an excellent opportunity to give Lucy
the envelope containing George's five-dollar bill,
which he did with many injunctions of secrecy.
"Can't I even tell Aunt Lucetta?" asked Lucy.
"I do wish I could, for she would be so glad about
it. She worries so about George, and wonders
how he is really getting along."
"He said not to say a word," replied Chris-
102
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
topher, very earnestly. "You're to get a hat
or a dress over at the Boston Store in South
Maybury, or a diamond ring — anything you
want."
They had stepped out into the half hall while
he was speaking. Lucy was quite certain that
her aunt, Mrs. Martin, was standing on her side
of the netting in the hall above, so she made no
further remark beyond warmly expressing her
thanks to Chris.
"I am very much obliged," she said, very
earnestly. She was an old-fashioned little girl
of ten or eleven. "You are very good. I won't
get a diamond ring, though, because there are
other things I need a great deal more."
"I don't believe you could get a diamond ring
for five dollars," laughed Chris. "But there are
lots of things you can get, and you will tell me
what you choose, won't you, because I shall
want to know?"
"Yes," said Lucy, "I certainly will; and I'm
very, very much obliged/'
"I'm going in to see Rachel Amy now," said
Chris.
"Well, you must go out our side door, and go
around to the front and ring their bell."
"All right. Good-bye, Lucy."
And presently he was ringing the bell of the
door on the other side of which he had been stand-
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
ing but a few seconds earlier. It was opened
almost before his hand had left the bell by Rachel
Amy Martin. She was a tall girl with thick
brown hair, which she wore in a very smooth
braid, and her face was attractive without being
pretty. It was alight now with pleasure as she
greeted Christopher.
"I knew it was you/' she said. "Mother
heard you when you were in at Aunt Lucetta's.
So you went to see Lucy first ? However, I don't
care as much as mother does. Be careful what
you say in there, Chris. We hear every word —
at least, mother does." She led him into the
parlor, which with the front door had fallen to the
share of Mrs. Martin in the division of the house.
She spoke hurriedly and in a low voice, glancing
as she did so at the door into the hall.
"You've got a horse, haven't you?" she con-
tinued. "What's his name?"
"He hasn't any name — at least, I don't like
the one he has, and I'm going to change it. Do
you know a good one?"
"Oh, why don't you call him Julius Caesar,
or Ivanhoe, or Richard Coeur de Lion, or — Oh, I
know: call him either Napoleon or the Duke
of Wellington, I don't care which," said Rachel
Amy, who was fond of history and also of Scott,
and who seemed to be of an impartial turn of
mind.
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Christopher was doubtful about all of these,
and there was a lurking desire in his mind to sub-
mit the decision to Betty Hamilton when she
came. He felt that Betty might be more original
than Rachel Amy.
"I don't care much for Napoleon," he said,
"and Duke of Wellington would be such a very
long name for such a little horse, and so would
most of the others. I think I'll wait a little before
I decide, but if you think of any more, Rachel
Amy, I wish you would tell me."
"Brownie is a nice name."
"That is the name of Betty Hamilton's dog,
only they call him Brown usually. Did you
know they were coming here to spend the whole
summer in their own house?"
"I guess everybody knows that." Rachel
Amy spoke without enthusiasm, and her manner
might almost be called "snubby." "Is her hair
as red as ever?"
This was an old point of difference. "I don't
call it so very red, but I don't think it has changed
any. Don't you want to come out and see my
pony? I'm afraid I've got to go home now."
"You haven't stayed so very long. You went
to see the people next door first, didn't you?"
Her mother always insisted that Miss Lucetta and
Lucy should be mentioned only as "the people
next door."
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Next door?" repeated Chris, somewhat puz-
zled.
"Yes. You know. In there."
"But it's the same house."
Before Rachel Amy could reply, Mrs. Martin
came into the room. "It is next door," she said,
with great asperity, "and I'll thank you not to
forget it."
"How do you do, Mrs. Martin?" said Chris.
He held out his hand and smiled at her. Mrs.
Martin's face relaxed in spite of herself. She
was a gloomy, disagreeable-looking person, and
she rarely smiled. Long practice in saying and
thinking unpleasant things had dragged down the
corners of her mouth and ploughed deep lines
between her eyes. She was a person who went
through hie with the firm conviction that she
was very much to be pitied.
"Well," she said, "ain't you lucky! I guess
you was born with a silver spoon in your mouth
if ever anybody was. Got a horse of your own,
like a little prince. And able to do charity and
give presents, too. But I'll thank you not to be
visitin' both houses. If you're bringin' presents
there, you'll kindly not come here."
"Mother!" exclaimed Rachel Amy, her color
deepening.
"Both houses?" repeated Chris, somewhat puz-
zled. "Oh, you mean your sister's half."
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"I mean that Miss Lucetta Smith's. She
ain't my sister any longer, I'd have you to un-
derstand."
Christopher stood looking at her. "How very
strange it is," he said, at last. "I would give
anything in the world to have a sister or a brother
all my own. I think I would rather have a sister,
because girls are nice, and I'd like to take care of
her always and love her. I would a great deal
rather have one than a horse or any of the things
grandfather gives me. We would always play
together, and when we grew up I'd have her
then, too, for my own. And you have one right
here in the same house and you don't want her.
It seems very strange. Do you suppose it is al-
ways that way, Mrs. Martin?"
"What way?" She spoke almost against her
will. She would have liked to believe that the
boy was preaching to her. Then she could have
resented it. But it was impossible to think
this. She could see that he was merely thinking
over the situation, and it surprised him.
"Why, that what we have we don't want,
and we want what we don't have."
"I can't answer for others, but I know it's
always been pretty much that way with me."
"I can't understand it," said Chris. "Not
when it's a sister. I should think you'd be so
glad of her you wouldn't mind at all about George
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
and Lucy. I should love to have George and
Lucy, too. It must be splendid to have rela-
tions. But I have my grandfather. Once, you
know, I didn't have him. But oh, Mrs. Martin, a
sister is such a nice person to have belonging to
you! It does seem such a waste not to be friends
with her. Don't you think you really could?"
"No!" cried Mrs. Martin, with vehemence.
Chris moved toward the door. "It is very
strange," said he again. "It isn't as if it were a
thing you could buy."
Rachel Amy followed him out of the front door.
"Don't mind her," she whispered. "I don't
think she's feeling very well. Oh, Chris, what a
beautiful horse! And is he really all your own?
And don't you have to use crutches any more?
Oh, I'm so glad!"
"I was waiting for you to notice about the
crutches," said he, much gratified.
"It's perfectly splendid," said Rachel Amy.
"Doesn't it seem very queer to be living with
General Keith, Chris? Aren't you afraid of him?"
Christopher laughed. "Afraid of grandfather?
Why, of course not!"
"Well, most folks are."
"I never was, even before I knew he was my
grandfather."
Christopher mounted his horse and rode away,
and Rachel Amy stood watching him just as the
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Toppans had done, and as the men over at the
store were also doing. It seemed so wonderful
to them all. In the course of time they became
accustomed in Maybury to the sight of Chris-
topher on horseback, but at first it was the chief
subject of interest and conversation.
When Rachel Amy went into the house her
mother came out of the parlor. She, too, had
been watching through the crack of the shade,
which she had drawn slightly aside. The shades
were seldom raised in the parlor for fear the sun
would spoil the carpet.
"Well," she said, "did he give you a present,
too?"
"Oh no, mother!"
"Well, I never! And you were always more
his friend than that little minx in next door.
Now, what has she done, I'd like to know, that
would cause him to bring her a present of five
dollars, and tell her to go buy something over to
the Boston Store? Charity, I suppose. That's
all. But if I was Miss Lucetta Smith I'd be
above lettin' my niece and adopted daughter
receive charity. To think of all the money Miss
Lucetta Smith has got laid away as ought to
have been yours, Rachel Amy, as much her niece
as any one, not to say more, having lived to-
gether all your life and seemin' to set such store
by you! And all I did for her, too!"
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Rachel Amy gathered her courage in both
hands, as it were. "Aunt Lucetta is just as
fond of me as she ever was, mother, and you
know it, and she loves you, too, as much as ever.
It's you, mother! It's you keeps up the quarrel.
Oh, mother, won't you take the netting down
and be friends again? Oh, mother, mother,
please take the netting down!"
Mrs. Martin grasped her daughter's arms and
shook her slightly. "Never!" she said. "Never!
And don't you ever speak of it again. There,
I've got that pain again. You've got to keep
quiet, Rachel Amy, and not excite me. I can't
stand it."
"What's the matter, mother? I didn't know
you had any pain."
"Oh, it's nothing. It's gone now. But don't
you mention any such subject as that. It brings
it right on. Do you hear?"
"Yes, mother," said the girl. .
She wondered if her mother were really ill.
Certainly her face looked white and drawn; but
always she had made much of her ailments, and
experience had taught Rachel Amy that it was
never worth while to be unduly alarmed. She
went back to her work with a heavy heart. Life
had become very sad for Rachel Amy, for she
loved her aunt Lucetta.
vm
ON the first day of June the Hamilton family
arrived at Maybury Centre and established
themselves in the old farm-house which Mr.
Hamilton had bought, and which had been put
into complete order for his use. It was half-
past five in the afternoon when the train drew up
at the little station. The usual crowd of loungers
was awaiting it, and when the large party from
New York alighted, they, the village worthies,
felt that they had not waited in vain. This
evening there was really something to see. There
were Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, Florence, Charles,
Pauline, Betty, Betty's dog, and several persons
in addition who were designated as "the hired
help." The coming of the Hamiltons had long
been anticipated by Maybury, and the realiza-
tion of these anticipations was all that could be
desired. There was certainly something to look at.
The purchase of the old Pringle place by a
New York man had been one of the sensations
of the year. The residents of the village felt
that anything was now possible in its future.
8 111
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
The value of property would go up with leaps
and bounds. This was but the beginning of
good things. Until recently Maybury had re-
mained undiscovered by city people. General
Keith had owned his large and beautiful estate
there for many years, to be sure, but the summer
boarder, that advance-guard of city fashion, had
not as yet descended upon the place. With the
exception of the Hamiltons themselves, scarcely
any one of their kind had visited Maybury, and
therefore it still retained the quaintness and
charm which has now vanished from most coun-
try villages.
All the "teams" available were soon at the
service of the strangers, and presently a procession
of carry-alls and buggies drove along the main
street, and, passing the post-office, the hotel, and
the drug store, turned off upon the road which
led past the Toppan Farm to Keith Hall. Very
soon, however, they took another turn to the
left, and, skirting the edge of Maybury Lake, they
drove through the woods and then emerged upon
an open road, on either side of which the fields
and apple orchards gave evidence of the close
proximity of a farm. At last they turned in at
a gate, and following an entrance road, grass-
grown and rutty, they finally drew up at the side
of a long, rambling house, which, with ells and
out-houses and barn closely adjoining, seemed to
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
be of considerable size. It consisted of but two
stories, but it was so long that it covered a large
amount of space. It had been in great need of
repair when Mr. Hamilton bought it, but now, with
fresh paint outside and with all the comforts that
modern life can give within doors, it had become
a charming summer home. Nothing had been
done to alter the appearance of age. The paint
was white, both outside and in. The old doors,
with their quaint glass handles or still more
ancient latches, the high chimney-shelves above
the great fireplaces, the wainscoting, the little
cupboards that one came upon in all sorts of un-
expected places, the steep stairs, and even the
faint, intangible smell that clings to an old farm-
house— all were there, as well as some of the an-
cient furniture which had been bought with the
house, and which Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton con-
sidered the most important part of the purchase.
The approach to the farm was up a gentle but
long incline, consequently the house lay a number
of feet higher than the village, and the view from
the piazzas as well as from the upper windows
was very fine. The lake, which was quite a largo
body of water, irregular in shape and long rather
than broad, was near at hand, a steep path leading
directly down to its shores. Beyond the gleam-
ing water was the railroad, and beyond that were
woods and valleys and hills.
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Pauline lingered alone on the west porch. The
others had all hurried into the house, eager to
explore its undiscovered resources ; but she, with
the instinct of the artist, stayed to watch the
changing colors of lake and sky, unheeding the
arrival of trunks or the tramping of feet, the
shouts of the delighted family and the excited
barking of Brown, who felt that his travels now
were over. She had her travelling - bag in her
hand, and presently she sat down on the steps,
and, opening it, searched in its depths until she
found a little blank-book. In this she wrote a
description of the view as her eyes saw it. She
did not attempt to put it into rhyme or verse.
That would come later. It was necessary to
her, however, to express her joy in what she saw
in written language.
She was interrupted by Charles.
"I say," said he, "isn't this corking? Paul,
you'd better stop scribbling and go up-stairs.
If you don't, Betty will have grabbed the whole
place there."
Pauline felt that it really did not much matter
what Betty did if only she herself could look at
the view; this was her first thought. But pres-
ently the practical side of her nature asserted
itself, and she went up to investigate for herself.
The room which she and Betty were to share was
on the corner of the house directly above where
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
she had been sitting on the porch. The windows,
therefore, commanded the same view as that
which she had been watching. It was a large
room, with a high white wainscoting and an old-
fashioned blue-and-white paper. The two beds
were on opposite sides of the room, and were small
and painted white. There was a large fireplace,
and on either side of the chimney was a cupboard.
The chairs were old-fashioned and stiff, with high
backs, and there was a chest of drawers for each
girl with a small glass above it. There was a
straw matting on the floor, and upon it were
oblong rugs made of woven rags. Florence's
room was next to theirs, on the side of the house,
and was not unlike it in general appearance, al-
though somewhat smaller. On the opposite side
of the little hall was Mrs. Hamilton's room, and
next to hers the guest-chamber. The boys' room
was in the ell, as was also an extra room for their
friends. The servants had another ell to them-
selves, over the kitchen, and a room that was now
to be used as a laundry.
"You take the right side of everything and I'll
take the left," said Betty, briskly, when Pauline
came in, "just as we always do." She was
hurrying about in a very business-like way, un-
packing and arranging her possessions. "Aren't
those window-seats splendid? There's only one
table. Who will have it?"
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"You can have the table if you will let me have
this western window with the view for my ownty-
own," replied Pauline.
"Can't I ever look out of it?"
"Oh yes, of course you can look out of it, but
I want to own it and sit here when I like," said
Pauline, gazing across the lake as she spoke.
"All right. I'd rather have the table than the
view. I suppose you'll keep your ink and things
on your window-sill."
This was a new thought to Pauline. In her
anxiety to secure the view she had forgotten
more practical advantages.
"Perhaps I can find an old desk somewhere,"
she said, after considering the matter. " You can
have the table and that extra cupboard if you'll
promise not to interfere with my having the whole
of the desk, if I find one, and I keep the window."
"All right," agreed Betty. To her a table in
the hand was worth far more than any desks in
the bush.
And this important matter being settled, they
went down-stairs to join the rest of the family at
their first supper at the farm.
The next morning was even more wonderful
to the Hamiltons than the night of their arrival.
To wake up in the country, in rooms that were
strange and yet their own; to look from the
windows and see the bright June sun lighting up
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
lake and pasture, garden and field, and shining
upon a world so quiet and so peaceful, so far re-
moved from the noisy traffic and turmoil of a great
city; to feel the soft June breeze, to smell the
sweet June perfumes, to hear the birds singing
their June songs — could it be the world in which
they had awakened only yesterday, the yesterday
which now seemed weeks or months ago?
Pauline lingered over her dressing, for most of
it was done at her favorite window, and it is not
easy to button your boots or brush your hair
when you are at the same time studying a distant
landscape ; but Betty wasted no precious moments
in poetic meditations. She was soon ready for
action, and with a parting injunction to Pauline
to "hurry up and come down," she left the room
and began the day.
The first thing to be visited was the lake. It
had been too late when they finished supper the
night before — at least so her parents thought,
not Betty — to descend the path, and therefore
it must now be done at once. Betty had made
many plans about the lake. There was to be a
sail-boat, a row-boat, a canoe, and a motor-boat —
according to Miss Betty. She loved the water,
and had passed many of her summers at the sea-
shore. A lake was but a poor substitute for an
ocean, but better than no water at all, in which
opinion Charles agreed with her. She found him
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
already on the little strip of sandy beach at the
foot of the path when she reached it.
"There's an old boat-house," he said, "and I
mean to ask father to let me have a man to-day
to help me and we'll try to put it into better shape.
It needs shingling. There's an old boat here,
too. Looks as if Noah had used it when he took
Mrs. Noah rowing by moonlight. I shouldn't
wonder if it were really about a hundred years
old. Look at it, half full of water."
"When are the new boats coming?"
"Oh, we're only going to have one at first.
Father says he's been spending so much on this
place he'll have to go easy for a while. He's
going to buy a good row-boat, and I'm going to
put that money I've saved up into a canoe — that
is, if I get any money on my birthday, next week,
to help out."
"And aren't we going to have a sail-boat and
a motor-boat?" asked Betty.
"Not this year, anyway, and I don't see what
we want either for. There's a lot to do on land.
It isn't like being on the coast, where you have
to be on the water all the time if you want any
fun."
Betty did not reply. This would have been a
crushing disappointment to her had she been
told of it in New York, but here on the spot,
where, as Charles said, there was so much else to
118
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
do, she really did not care. She was investigat-
ing the shore in the immediate vicinity of the
path. Presently she gave a loud shout which
evidently meant some great discovery.
"Charles, do come here! Quick! I've found
— oh, Charles, I'm sure it's an underground
passage!"
Charles was very busy with the old boat. "All
right. It will keep," he replied.
" Oh, it's wonderful !" cried Betty. " I'm creep-
ing in! It leads ever so far." Her voice grew
fainter as she ventured farther into the opening.
Presently she emerged again. "I'm going to
explore it 'way in," she said. " I would have now,
only I thought it would soon be breakfast-time
and I'm so hungry. It is most mysterious. You
must look at it, Charles."
She finally persuaded him to leave the ancient
boat and examine the opening. It was at the
base of the steep bank, and seemed to have been
made by man, not formed by nature. It was
lined with stones, and the entrance was so over-
grown with bushes that it would not be noticed
by the casual visitor to the shore of the lake.
Betty's sharp eyes, eager to find all that there was
of interest, had seen it at once. Charles was dis-
tinctly impressed by her discovery.
"It is an underground passage," said he. "I
shouldn't wonder if it led right up to the house.
119
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
I bet they built it so as to escape from the Indians.
This is such an old house it must have been built
in the days of Indians. Don't say anything about
it, Betty. We'll have some fun with it before
we tell the others. We can play some joke on
the maids, or something like that. Now don't
tell!"
"Of course not," said Betty, promptly, de-
lighted to have a secret with Charles, and equally
pleased at his feeling that her find was of suf-
ficient importance to be kept a secret.
And then the breakfast-bell was heard ringing,
and they joyfully obeyed its summons and re-
turned to the house. After breakfast it was
necessary to decide about gardens, to divide up
the land allotted to them for that purpose, and
to choose whether they should raise flowers or
vegetables. The barn had to be explored, the
hennery investigated, the question of incubators
inquired into (for Charles meditated making a
fortune in selling eggs to his mother, and for a
time an incubator seemed a better investment for
idle money than a canoe), the shingling of the
boat-house must be begun, and altogether there
was so much to occupy every one that the under-
ground passage was entirely forgotten, and neither
Charles nor Betty thought of it again for a long
time.
At about three o'clock that afternoon, when
120
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Mrs. Hamilton, after a busy morning, had gone
to her room to rest, two figures were seen ap-
proaching by Florence and Pauline. They were
those of a tall, thin woman, who walked with a
hurried, nervous step, and a young girl of about
Pauline's age. They came up the rough, grass-
grown avenue which led to the house, and passing
without a glance the end of the eastern porch,
where the Hamilton girls were sitting, they went
to the front door and rang the bell.
"Who can they be?" whispered Florence.
"You go and see what they want, Paul; the
maids are so busy." Florence was comfortably
placed in the hammock, and thought it would be
much easier for Pauline to rise than for her to do
so. Besides, of what use would be a younger
sister if not to go on errands?
Pauline laid aside her book and went around
the corner of the house, accompanied by Brownie,
barking violently at the strangers.
"Do you wish to see any of the family?" she
asked.
Pauline was not pretty — in fact, she was con-
sidered rather plain in comparison with her two
sisters; but her manner was so pleasant, her voice
so cordial, and her eyes so friendly that most
people found her very attractive. The young
girl, who was no other than Rachel Amy Martin,
looked at her with interest. She had not wished
121
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
to come this afternoon because she did not care
for Betty, but her mother had insisted that she
should accompany her to make the call which
Mrs. Martin had determined to pay without delay.
She was glad that this was not Betty, and won-
dered if it could be a sister, and where Betty
might be.
Mrs. Martin turned quickly and confronted
Pauline.
"Well, I guess that's what we've come for,"
she replied, with her usual asperity. *'I guess
nothin' else would bring us up this hill. P'r'aps
you thought we'd come to see some of the help.
If so, you're mistaken. I'd thank you if you'd
stop that dog barkin'. I'm Mrs. Martin, one of
the Maybury Centre ladies, and I've come to call
on Mrs. Hamilton. Bein* a stranger here, I
thought she'd feel kind o' lonesome and I'd call
without delay. Of course, it's my place to come
first. It's etiquettical, and I always was one
as paid great attention to what's etiquettical.
Whatever my faults, I'm not caught nappin'
that way. You're one of the hired help, I sup-
pose. A half-grown girl can make herself real
handy."
Pauline laughed. "I'm Pauline Hamilton,"
she said. "I will tell my mother you are here.
Will you come in?"
Mrs. Martin was at first quite overcome at hav-
122
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
ing mistaken a daughter of the house for "hired
help." "But," as she said afterward, "who
would have supposed that a young lady accus-
tomed to New York city life would be in a plain
chintz dress, as plain as a pike-staff, at three
o'clock of an afternoon, which, as every one
knows, is the proper hour for paying and re-
ceiving calls?"
She murmured an apology for her mistake and
followed Pauline into the living-room, into which
the front door opened. The room, which had once
been the "best parlor " of the farm-house, had been
thrown into one with the hall, making a very large
room, from which the narrow, old-fashioned stair-
case led directly up to the second floor. Mrs.
Martin looked about her with a critical eye.
There was no plush-covered parlor set, no centre-
table, no corner etagere, or what-not, as were to
be found in all well-regulated best parlors. There
was no melodeon, although there was an upright
piano, which stood open, and upon the top of which
there was not a single ornament.
"I presume they're not fixed up yet," remarked
Mrs. Martin, audibly, to Rachel Amy. "That's
one reason why I sh'd have preferred to call later;
but I'd no intention of lettin' that Miss Lucetta
Smith get ahead of me on this, as I've remarked
before, Rachel Amy. • That girl didn't look a
mite like the red-headed one, did she? Well,
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
it's real plain here, I must say. Look at those
rugs! And as for that wilier rocker, it couldn't
have cost more'n — "
" Mother," whispered Rachel Amy, imploringly,
"they can hear right up those stairs!"
Before her mother had time to reply, which, to
judge from her expression, would have been done
quickly and scathingly, Mrs. Hamilton came down
the stairs in question.
"Mrs. Martin?" she said, cordially, as she shook
hands. "And this must be your daughter, whom
I have heard my Betty speak of. Your name is
Rachel Amy, isn't it?"
Rachel Amy felt distinctly pleased that her
name should be remembered, and she smiled at
the lady who greeted her so kindly.
"You will like to go out on the piazza with
Pauline, I am sure, while we elders sit inside. I
don't know where Betty is. She has been out-of-
doors all day, she is so glad to get to the country.
Perhaps you can find her, Pauline, for I have no
doubt Rachel Amy has come to see her."
"No matter about looking up Betty," said
Rachel Amy, as the two girls left the room, "I'm
just as pleased to call on you."
Pauline introduced her to Florence, and the
three manufactured conversation on the porch
while their mothers did the same in the house.
At the end of half an hour Mrs. Martin rose to go.
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"I want you should come to a four-o'clock at
my house," said she. "I'll send you a card when
the time comes. I know what's the proper thing
to do. I'm going to ask some of the Maybury
Centre ladies to meet you — not all of 'em, by any
means. I intend to pick and choose the best, and
I shall invite a friend of mine from West Maybury.
Mrs. Davis is one of my most intimate friends over
there. She visits in New York city, and just as
likely as not you've met before. I'd like your
young folks to come, too. I'll send out cards."
She called Rachel Amy, and presently they were
going down the avenue with the same hurried
step with which they had come. Mrs. Hamilton
watched them. She was on the porch with her
daughters, and when the visitors were out of sight
she turned to the girls with an amused face.
"What an extraordinary woman our first call-
er is!" she said. "She practically informed me
that she was surprised to find me in a morning
dress at this hour. I am afraid Maybury customs
in the matter of dress are going to be more rigor-
ous than those of New York. And she also told
me that she was engaged to be married, but was
in no hurry to change her state. Betty, here you
are at last! Where have you been, child? You
have missed a caller — two callers."
"Oh, I saw them," said Betty, as she came up
the steep path from the lake. "It was Rachel
125
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Amy and her mother. That's the reason I stayed
away."
"I like that Rachel Amy," said Pauline,
thoughtfully. "She looks as if she didn't have
much fun, and she felt so sorry because her mother
made a mistake and thought I was one of the
maids."
"We are all invited, or going to be invited, there
to a 'four -o'clock/" continued Mrs. Hamilton.
"Only the best people are to be asked to meet us,
and not 'that Miss Lucetta Smith/ who lives next
door to the Martins. Who can she be? Some
one quite beneath notice from a social stand-
point, Mrs. Martin seems to think."
"Why, it is her own sister!" exclaimed Betty.
"And they live in the same house with a wire
netting between. They're the ones I told you
about. She is engaged to Tim Tarleton, the man
who drives a station carriage."
"We must go to the party," said Mrs. Ham-
ilton. "I am quite curious to see the netting.
That poor little Rachel Amy! I feel very sorry
for her."
" So do I," said Pauline. "I mean to be friends
with Rachel Amy."
"I wish you would," said Betty; "that would
take her off my hands. I like Lucy Smith best,
though she's a terrible coward, and behaved like
a little goose once when we were caught in a bad
120
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
scrape last year. But you're welcome to Rachel
Amy."
"Let us do all we can for her," said their
mother. "It is sad for a girl to be placed in her
position."
"I suppose it is," assented Betty, "but there is
something about Rachel Amy Martin that always
makes me cross."
"Betty, isn't that unreasonable?"
" Or is it unusual ?" added Florence. ' ' So many
people and things make you cross."
"It must run in the family," said Betty. "I
take after my eldest sister."
Pauline laughed. "She's got you there, Flo."
"Children, I don't like to have you talk to
one another in that way," said Mrs. Hamilton.
"What would either one of you do if you had no
brothers and sisters, and were alone with such a
very disagreeable mother as Mrs. Martin seems
to be? And perhaps she has had something in
her life to make her so. You never can tell.
Illness, or sorrow, or poverty, or disgrace of some
sort may have soured and sharpened her. Any
one of us might become like that if we met with
great trouble, and had not sufficient strength of
mind to stand up against it."
"Not you, darling mother!" exclaimed Pauline,
going to her and giving her a hug. "You would
only get lovelier and lovelier; wouldn't she, girls?"
"9 127
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Indeed she would!" said Florence and Betty
together, in perfect harmony once more. Their
little disagreements and differences never lasted
long. The Hamiltons all loved one another dear-
ly, and their disputes were only such as are bound
to arise among a number of brothers and sisters
who are growing up together, each with his or
her own strong will, and with the first unfolding
of a yet uncertain character.
"You flatter me, dear ones," said Mrs. Hamil-
ton. "But I want you all to be good to that poor
child. I feel so very sorry for her. I could see
that she was afraid of her mother."
"I should think she would be," said Betty.
"That Mrs. Martin is a perfectly awful person.
Miss Lucetta Smith is very nice, and she and
Rachel Amy used to be so fond of each other;
and now, since Miss Lucetta adopted George and
Lucy, poor Rachel Amy isn't allowed to speak
to her. If Rachel Amy were not such a proud
person, I suppose I should like her better. Of
course, I am sorry for her. If her mother would
only marry Tim Tarleton and go off somewhere,
and leave Rachel Amy with her aunt Lucetta,
how nice it would be! Yes, I feel very sorry for
Rachel Amy. But she is so proud!"
"How do you mean?" asked Pauline.
"Well, I mean stuck-up — about her long
braid, for instance. If I had a long braid of hair
128
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
I never should mention to my dearest, most in-
timate friend how many twists there were in it.
She did, almost the first time I ever saw her, and
it was in Sunday-school." Betty shook her own
curly head very wisely and with great superiority
as she spoke.
"I don't think that was so dreadful," said
Pauline, who had definitely established herself
as the friend and champion of Rachel Amy.
"But she always acts so very stuck-up about
everything. She makes you feel as if she thought
herself ever so much gooder than you are."
"Oh, that may be your imagination, Betty,"
said her mother. "But I believe we are going
to have another visitor — two, in fact : General
Keith and Christopher! Betty, go tell your fa-
ther General Keith is here." And she added, in
a lower tone: "I shall have to dress early in May-
bury, I see."
General Keith and his grandson were on horse-
back. The boy had expressed a desire to ride
over to see the Hamiltons, and to his surprise,
the General had said that he would go also. He
knew that his grandfather, not being of a genial
disposition, was averse to making calls, and he
was glad that he evidently intended being on
terms of friendliness, if not intimacy, with the
Hamiltons. He supposed that it was because
of the connection by marriage between them
129
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
and the family of his grandfather, for Mr. Ham-
ilton's sister had married Ludovic Lewis, his
grandmother's nephew. It did not occur to him
that General Keith was making this great effort
and altering his usual habits solely on his account.
If the boy wished to go the General would go, too.
He could not bear to have him out of his sight
even for an hour or so. Therefore, the two came
together; and while Chris went off with Pauline
and Betty to look for Mr. Hamilton and Charles,
General Keith talked in his stately, courteous way
to Mrs. Hamilton and Florence, and impatiently
awaited the boy's return. It was evident to Mrs.
Hamilton, who was a keen observer, that the old
man had become completely absorbed in his
grandson, or, rather, that he intended to absorb
the boy in himself, and she felt a pang of pity for
the child, just as she had felt for Rachel Amy,
although the circumstances of the two were so
different.
Mr. Hamilton and Charles were found down
at the boat-house. They were shingling it them-
selves, and Mr. Hamilton was so pleased with his
carpentry that he forsook it rather unwillingly
to go to his visitor. Charles was too much ab-
sorbed in it to pay much attention to the chil-
dren, and presently they left him, and, after ex-
ploring the shore of the lake and looking at the
boat with a strong desire to try it in spite of
130
its leakiness, they climbed the steep path again,
and Betty and Chris went to the big barn while
Pauline returned to the house.
"Has Rachel Amy been here?" asked Chris-
topher, as soon as he was alone with Betty.
"Yes. How did you know it?"
"We met them on the road. I thought they
must have been here. Mrs. Martin hates me now.
She just glared at me, and she wouldn't let
Rachel Amy speak to me."
"Why not?"
"Because she thinks I gave Lucy Smith a
present. She came up to see grandfather about
it."
"Why, Chris! What do you mean?" asked
Betty, deeply interested. "Let's sit down here
on this pile of hay, and you tell me all about it.
Here is some candy I got in the village — sassa-
fras sticks; it is lovely. Now go on and tell
me."
"Fm afraid I can't. You see, it's a great
secret," said Chris, accepting a stick of candy
with manifest pleasure.
"A secret? Aren't you going to tell me?
Why, Christopher Lovel! And I tell you all my
secrets (at least, I did last summer), and I mean
to this year, too — that is, if you will do the
same."
"But I didn't tell this even to grandfather,
131
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
because I had promised I wouldn't. He trusted
me, and said he wouldn't ask me any more if
I had promised; but he didn't like it very
much."
"But what did you do that Mrs. Martin didn't
like? That can't be a secret, if she knows it
and went to see your grandfather. You can at
least tell me that much."
"Grandfather said it was all nonsense. He
was very angry with Mrs. Martin. The day
after we came up here I took something to Lucy
Smith. I had been asked by some one to give
it to her, and Mrs. Martin heard me and thought
I was giving charity, as she called it, to Lucy,
and she came up and told grandfather that I had.
Grandfather was very angry at being interrupted.
We were playing the violin when she came. He
told her I was at liberty to give away as much as
I liked; but afterward he asked me about it, and
didn't like it because I couldn't explain it all to
him. However, he said he trusted me."
"I think I know what it was," said Betty.
"It was something George sent Lucy."
"Why, Betty!" cried Chris. "How did you
guess it? You are the most wonderful person!"
"Oh, I saw George Smith yesterday when we
changed cars. He was waiting to go back on the
train to Boston. I didn't have time to speak to
him. So now I have guessed this much, I don't
132
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
see why you shouldn't tell me more. I'll be very
careful never to tell."
Christopher considered the matter. " Mrs. Mar-
tin is telling the whole village that Miss Lucetta
and Lucy are living on charity," he said, at last.
"I feel so sorry, and if I could only see George
or get word to him somehow I should ask him if
I might tell."
"You leave me to manage it," said Betty. "I
can guess the whole thing. He sent Lucy some
money by you, and Mrs. Martin overheard you,
and thought you were giving Lucy money your-
self. She is an awful woman, Chris. My mother
thinks we ought to do something for Rachel Amy,
and I am going to think up something — I'm not
quite sure what."
"I don't see what we can do. Her mother is
with her all the time. But, Betty, you mustn't
do anything to manage that about George. You
know I promised him, and I haven't told you now;
you only guessed it. Please don't do anything,
will you?"
"Oh, well, not if you don't want me to. But
there is something else I must do. I don't care
much for Rachel A.my, but I should like to rescue
her from her misery."
"Betty, how could you do anything?"
" I don't know. Maybe I'll think of something."
Chris looked at her as though he considered her
133
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
quite capable of accomplishing even such an
undertaking as that would be.
"Didn't George look nice in his uniform?" said
she, presently.
"Yes, it must be great fun to be a railroad
man. I mean to, if I ever have to work for my
living."
"And sell papers on the train? As if your
grandfather would let you do that! Why, Chris,
he has loads and loads of money."
" I might have to," said the boy. " But there's
grandfather calling. It must be time to go.
What shall I call my pony, Betty? I have been
waiting for you to come to name him."
"Have you, really? Well, I've thought of a
name right away."
"What is it? I knew you'd know of a good
one."
" I never heard of a horse that was named this,
but I like it. Will you promise to call him by it,
whether you like it or not?"
"Yes!" exclaimed Chris, recklessly.
"Then his name is to be Sassafras."
"Sassafras! Why, Betty, what a name for a
horse !"
"You promised, and it is a splendid name — so
hissy and stingy. You'd know a horse named
Sassafras was a fast one. Here, take another
stick."
134
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"All right," said Christopher, slowly. "It's a
queer one, but I rather like it." He accepted the
candy, and presently he had mounted his pony,
and he and his grandfather rode away through
the woods.
IX
"/CHRISTOPHER," said General Keith one
V^ morning, "there is something I wish to speak
to you about very particularly."
The boy was sitting on the piazza steps. A
humming-bird was in the honeysuckle, and while
he watched it he wondered what he should do
that morning. He wished very much to drive
over to the Hamiltons'. His grandfather had
given him a pretty runabout, and his chief desire
now was to show it to Betty, who had not yet
seen it. He was afraid that if he suggested going
his grandfather would accompany him or would
send Ben with him, and he liked occasionally to
be independent of others. Calling at the Hamil-
tons' with his grandfather was very different
from a long morning of play or work with Betty
and Pauline, and occasionally Charles. Chris felt
a deep admiration for Charles, and was always
pleased when the older boy vouchsafed him even a
small amount of attention. He did not feel at
all in the mood for discussing matters of im-
portance with his grandfather. On a beautiful
136
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
summer morning like this there was so much that
was more entertaining to do.
"Do you, grandfather?" he said, without turn-
ing round. "I wonder if that humming-bird has
a nest anywhere round here. Did you ever see
a humming-bird's nest, grand?"
"Certainly — certainly. But never mind about
that now, Christopher."
The General rose from his chair on the porch,
and began to walk up and down. Christopher
knew from this that he considered the subject
of especial importance. He wondered if they were
going away from Maybury — perhaps to travel
again. He hoped not, just as the Hamiltons had
come.
"Christopher," said the General, "I wish you
to take my name."
"Your name, grandfather? Baldwin, do you
mean?"
"No, that is not necessary. You should have
been named Baldwin in the first place, but you
were not."
"I was named for my father," said the boy,
flushing slightly. "I was Christopher Lovel, Jr.,
until — until my father died."
"I know that — I know that. No need to tell
me that. All that is over and done with. You
are not junior now. You are my grandson, how-
ever, and, considering the large interests that
137
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
are involved, I think it would be better and more
suitable if you were to take the name of Keith."
"But my name is not Keith, it is Lovel."
"It can very easily be changed. By applying
to the legislature and going through certain legal
proceedings your name can be changed by law
from Lovel to Keith. If you chose, you could still
keep the Lovel as a middle name; in fact, that
might be a good plan. But I want you to bear
the name of Keith. You will, in all probability,
inherit the greater part of my fortune. It is
Keith money. It came from my father. There
has always been money in my family. My first
ancestor in this country was Sir Baldwin Keith,
who came over in 1670. We have been named
Baldwin from father to son ever since. My son"
— his voice trembled slightly — "was Baldwin.
The last of his line — the last of his line." He
paced up and down in silence for a few minutes.
When he spoke again his voice was as cold and
severe as usual.
"Now, then," said he, "I shall take measures
at once to have your name changed to Keith."
"But it is not Keith," said Christopher.
"I know it is not!" The old man spoke irasci-
bly now. "I have just explained to you, Chris-
topher, how such a matter is arranged. I intend
to have it made Keith."
"But I don't want it to be Keith, grandfather."
138
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"You don't want it to be! And why not, may
I ask? What possible objection can you have,
sir, to the name of Keith?"
When the General said "sir" to Chris it meant
that he was becoming annoyed.
"I have no objection to it, grandfather. I
think it is a very nice name. But it wasn't my
father's name."
"But I have explained to you why I wish you
to take it. I prefer that the Keith money should
go with the name of Keith."
"Isn't there anybody of that name you could
give the money to?"
"No, sir, there is not! And I am not contem-
plating giving the money to any one. It is a
question of leaving it. I shall not live forever.
There is no more proper person to inherit all this"
— his glance wandered over the beautiful pros-
pect as he spoke: the lawns, the flower garden,
the oddly shaped trees, the woods and fields, all his
own, and yet some day he must pass on to some-
thing else and be "buried with his fathers," the
other Baldwin Keiths, who also had been obliged
to leave behind them the great fortune that had
been doubling and trebling itself for so many
years — "there is no more proper person to in-
herit all this than my grandson, but he must bear
the name of Keith."
"You are very kind, grand," began Christopher.
139
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Kind!" shouted the General. "Don't speak
of me as being kind. Why shouldn't I be kind?
You are my daughter's son. You have as much
right to it all as though you had been my son's
son."
"But not to the name. You see, there was
father. I am father's son. And his name was
Christopher Lovel. And — and he spoke to me
once about my name."
"He did, did he? And what did he say about
the name of Christopher Lovel?"
"He said to take care of it."
"Take care of it? What did he mean by that?"
"To keep it bright and clean. He said that
every Christopher Lovel who ever lived had been
an honest man, and he wanted me to be one, too.
He said he had no money to give me, but he had
given me an honest name, and it had never been
disgraced. There have been ever so many Chris-
topher Levels, grandfather, just as there have
been Baldwin Keiths, only I don't think the first
one in this country was a Sir. I guess he was just
plain mister."
"If that!"
"What do you mean, grandfather?"
"Nothing — nothing! But I see nothing in all
this to prevent your changing your name."
"Oh, grand! Why, I do! How could I keep
the name bright and clean if I gave it up?"
140
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Nonsense! Your father would have been
willing enough to have you give it up if he had
supposed you would be the owner of millions of
dollars in consequence."
"No," said Chris; "excuse me, grand, but I
don't think so. My father used to tell me that
money wasn't everything. He said a kind heart
and a forgiving nature were worth more than
money. My father had to forgive somebody, I
don't know who it was — somebody treated him
badly. A good many people did whom father
trusted, but this was some particular person who
did him a great wrong. I should like to speak
to that person just once, but I don't know who
it was. Father never would tell me. It was
somebody with a great deal of money. Do you
know, grand, I think if I ever found out who it
was I should just hate that man — for a little while,
anyway. I might forgive him later. It seems
so awful to me now, now that you have given
me so much, that my father should have been so
poor, and that any one should have treated him
unkindly. I often think of it."
The General paused in his walk and stood be-
hind the boy on the steps. He cleared his throat
twice before he could speak. "Did — did your
father forgive him, whoever it was?"
"I think he did — yes, I'm sure he did. Who
do you suppose it was, grand? I used sometimes
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
to think that it might have been you, because, of
course, father and mother didn't know that all
that time you were trying to find us, and they
might have felt pretty badly about it, knowing
you were so rich and we were so poor. Of course,
now I never think that. I know you would never
have been so unkind. I know you so well that
I am sure you couldn't ever have been like that.
If I didn't know you so well I should feel the
same as I used to about it, but I am so sure you
tried to find us that I don't feel angry about it
any more. I wish they had known it, too. Why
did you give us up in the first place, grand? Did
my mother do something you didn't like besides
marrying father? Of course, I know that was
part of it, because Mrs. Toppan told me that when
I first came to Maybury. But of course there must
have been something else, too."
"Never mind about that now, and we will
finish our talk about the name some other time.
Where are you going this morning?"
Christopher stood up. This was, indeed, a
pleasant surprise. Evidently his grandfather
intended to allow him a morning to him-
self.
" I should like to drive Sassafras over to see the
Hamiltons — in the runabout, I mean. I want
to show it to Betty. And no matter about Ben
going, grandfather."
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"I don't know about you going alone. Why
not take Ben?"
"Oh no, grandfather! Please! May I go with-
out him?"
"You may go. Come home to luncheon."
After the boy had gone the old man continued
his walk up and down, up and down. He had
much to think about.
When Chris reached the Pringle Farm, as the
Hamiltons continued to call their place, he found
a large party of young people assembled on the
piazza. Sassafras was tied in the carriage-house,
the runabout duly admired by Betty, and then she
informed him that it was a house party. Chris-
topher never having heard of a house party,
Betty further explained to him that it consisted
of some friends of her brother Maurice and her
sister Florence who had come to stay a week.
"And Maurice has come home from college,
which makes another fellow," continued Betty.
"That is Maurice, the one in the oldest clothes,
over there talking to the girl in the hammock.
The other fellow, the one who looks so spick and
span, is Bromfield Hale. He is Maurice's chum
at Harvard. They both got here last night, but
the others came day before yesterday. The girl
in the hammock is Josephine Hale. She lives
at Stockton, near Boston, and she and Florence
were at boarding-school together, and are most
to 143
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
intimate friends. She is Brom Hale's cousin, and
she lives with his father. She has a sister Geor-
giana, about Pauline's age. They have five boy
cousins and are the only girls in the house. It
must be great fun. I like Jo better than any of
Florence's New York friends. She's not so stuck
up and airish. The other girl, the one with the
dark hair, is Grace Fisher. She is from New
York. She is simply crazy about the fellows.
She just shows it. I think the boys like Jo Hale
the best, though. I am pretty sure Maurice does.
The other fellow, the one talking to Florence, is
Jack Kendal. He's very sweet on Flo. The
boys are all very nice to me," added Betty, com-
placently. "They all get up and offer me their
chairs when I come along, and are very pleasant.
They are so afraid I'll play some trick on them."
This long history was poured into Christopher's
ears as the children sat on the bench between two
trees. From this vantage-point they obtained
an excellent view of the group on the piazza.
Christopher surveyed the party with much in-
terest.
"It must be nice to have a house party,"
he observed. "I wish grandfather would have
one."
Betty laughed. "It would be a funny kind of
a house party," she said. "If it was your grand-
father's it would have to be all old men and wom-
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
en. Your house parties are always about the
same age as yourself, I think. Pauline is going
to have one of her friends later, but mother says
I have got to wait until next year. It is horrid to
be the youngest and always have to wait. Charles
is going to have his friends, but only boys. He
says they don't want to be bothered with any
more girls than there are here already. Charles
doesn't care as much about girls as Maurice does.
Don't you think my brother Maurice is very
good-looking? There, I believe they've made up
their minds at last! They've been discussing the
whole morning what they would do to-day. What
are you going to-4oj" she called out.
But no one paid any attention to her, and it
was only by leaving Christopher and going to the
piazza that she could discover the reason for the
sudden stir in the group. She beckoned to Chris
to follow her, and he came shyly forward.
"They are going out on the lake, some of them,
and Maurice and Brom Hale are going to drive
down to the village to see if their canoes have
come. They are coming up from Boston. Brom
Hale is going to be here longer than the others,
so he brought his canoe, too. Chris, I've got
something for us to do this morning. I'm so glad
you came over. Come with me."
Christopher was sorry to leave the piazza, but
Betty's word was usually law, and her plans were
145
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
always interesting, so he obeyed her commands
and accompanied her around the corner of the
house to the kitchen door. They entered, and
passed through to a narrow hall, from which a
flight of stone steps led down to a cellar.
"Why, Betty, where are you going?" demanded
Chris, much surprised to see her descend these
stairs.
"Follow me and ask no questions until we are
out of hearing. No one knows about this but
Charles and me, and he said I could tell you. Do
be careful ! If the maids didn't happen to be all
out of the kitchen they would hear us." They
now had reached the cellar. "Isn't this a queer,
splendid cellar?" continued Betty. "My father
says there are no such cellars made nowadays,
and even he doesn't know the wonderful secret
there is about this one. Charles and I found it
out. You see this old place which looks like an
oven door, or a furnace door, built in this stone
place? Well, everybody but Charles and me
think it is a sort of closet where the people used
to keep things to keep them cold, but we found
out that it is really an opening leading to an un-
derground passage that leads to the lake. Isn't
it too wonderful, and just like some exciting
story? We think they had it made to escape
from Indians. Now I think it would be the great-
est fun to pretend that there are Indians up there
146
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
now. We have fled down here. The house party
are the Indians. Of course, we are not to know
that they are going to the lake themselves, but
we plan to escape to the lake and get away in our
old boat. We haven't heard them say that they
were going to get their canoes. We think they
are doing something else (killing people up-
stairs), and we must escape if we wish to save our
lives. Hurry! hurry! Crawl in after me, and
all will be well."
No sooner said than done. Betty's tones were
so thrilling, her manner so urgent, that it was not
difficult to imagine that there were Indians above
stairs in war-paint and feathers who were at that
moment engaged in wielding their tomahawks
and gathering scalps.
"Not one of the maids was there!" continued
Betty, still in the same tone of terror. "All are
dead or fled. I did not see mamma! And where —
oh, where — was my dear little sister Pauline ? Dead
or fled. My father and brother were out in the
barn, and were probably the first victims. They
died covered with wounds, fighting to save their
family. Oh, hurry! hurry!"
She had crawled through the opening while she
was speaking. It was only large enough to allow
them to enter on their hands and knees, but once
inside the children could stand upright. It was
dark and chilly, but the other end was in sight, for
147
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
the tunnel had been made under the hill, which
was very steep at this place, and through the
bushes which grew beyond the opening there
entered rays of daylight and a glimpse of the
gleaming water of the lake.
Christopher followed her closely.
"Hark! I hear voices!" exclaimed Betty.
"They have come down the hill. We must keep
very quiet or they will discover us. We will go
close to the opening and listen to their plans. If
they don't find out that we are here they may go
off in some other direction."
They crouched down just inside the opening
and listened. The Indians, in the shape of Jo-
sephine Hale, Grace Fisher, Florence Hamilton,
and Jack Kendal, were standing within a few feet
of the children, but were, of course, quite uncon-
scious of their proximity.
"That boat isn't good for very much," said
Florence. Jack Kendal had stepped into it, and
with a sponge that was lying in it had begun to
bale it out. "Papa intends to get a new one, and
he has ordered one; but it hasn't come yet.
Charles says that it is all right if it hasn't too
heavy a load. There is a leak high up somewhere
that he hasn't been able to stop, but with just two
in it there is no danger of getting wet. Jack, why
don't you take Grace out while we are waiting
for the others? I am sure it is just the sort of
148
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
boat you will enjoy, captain of the 'varsity eight!
Yale would laugh to see you in that old tub!"
This was a bit cruel, for Harvard had just been
beaten at New London, but Florence had reasons
of her own for wishing to be severe with Jack.
For the same reasons she suggested that he should
take Grace out. He could not very well refuse,
and then when the other boys arrived with their
canoes it would be the most natural thing in the
world for Bromfield Hale to invite Florence to
go in his. She would have preferred a morning
with Jack, even in an old and leaking boat, but
she did not intend that he should guess this. He,
not very cordially it must be confessed, did as he
was bidden. Grace Fisher accepted with alacrity,
and although they were a long time getting off,
and Jack had many things to say before they did
go, he finally pulled off and headed for the middle
of the lake, and then rowed around the wooded
promontory that jutted out and which finally
hid them from sight.
"Now," whispered Betty to Chris, "Flo and Jo
are going to talk secrets. Remember that they
are Indians left behind to watch for us. If we
move, or let them know in any way that we are
here, we are all dead men. Be careful!"
"But we may hear their secrets," suggested
Chris.
"What if we do? They are Indians planning
149'
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
to scalp and massacre us. We have a right to
hear their secrets. Sh! Hark! Listen!"
The two Indians, quite ignorant of their dan-
gerous and blood-thirsty characters, seated them-
selves close to the opening on a flat rock that was
shaded from the July sun by a clump of trees.
"We shall probably have to wait ages for the
boys," said Florence. "I am glad I told the
maids to put up some luncheon for us. We shall
not get started until so late that it wouldn't be
worth while to go if we had to come back to
luncheon. I wonder how Jack is enjoying the
boat!"
"Or Grace! Flo, it was too bad you sent him
off with her. I have an idea that Jack doesn't
like Grace very much."
"Well, she likes him, so I have made her
happy."
There was silence for a few minutes.
"I wish they would say some more about that,"
whispered Betty to Chris. "It's the most in-
teresting thing."
"I don't think it's fair for us to listen."
"Why, you goose, we have to! It's part of our
game. We are playing a game, and we have
made them Indians. If they are silly enough to
talk about their own affairs right out-of-doors
like that, we have a right to hear what they say."
All this was said in a loud whisper.
150
"'THEY ARE INDIANS PLANNING TO SCALP AND MASSACRE us'"
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"What was that?" asked Josephine.
"What?" said Florence. "I didn't hear any-
thing."
Josephine laughed. "No; your thoughts are
far away — around the promontory, I suppose.
I heard the queerest noise. A kind of a hissing
whisper!"
"Oh, Jo, was it a snake?"
"I don't believe so. I don't mind snakes, do
you? The boys had one in the house once — had
it living up in their closet for days, and no one
knew it. No, this sounded like a person whis-
pering."
"The breeze in the trees, perhaps. Pauline
has been writing a poem about the whispering
trees."
"Pauline is a dear," said Josephine. "She re-
minds me something of my sister Georgiana, only
Georgie is not poetical. Betty is a case, isn't
she?"
At this Betty clutched Christopher's arm.
"Now they are going to talk about me!" she
whispered, very low, lest this time she might not
be mistaken for trees or snakes.
"Yes, she certainly is," said Betty's sister. "I
wonder where she is now. Up to something, I
suppose. She has Chris with her, though, so
perhaps he will keep her from doing anything
very dreadful."
151
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Well, I never!" muttered Betty. "The idea!"
" I certainly heard something then !" exclaimed
Josephine. They listened, but there was no
sound but the wood noises — birds, insects, flut-
tering leaves, the fall of a dead branch, and the
gentle splashing of the waters of the lake.
"What ears you have, Jo!"
"Or imagination! It seems to be that more
than ears, as you hear nothing. What a dear
that lame boy is, Florence! Is he the one who
was found in a Home, or somewhere, by his
grandfather?"
"He was in a Home, but General Keith didn't
find him. It was Mr. Toppan, a farmer up here
in Maybury. It was only last summer, and Aunt
Edith and Betty were up here at the Toppans'
and heard all about it. Mrs. Toppan wanted to
have a crippled child there to take care of, and
Mr. Toppan brought this boy home, and they
got so fond of him they wanted to adopt him,
and then it was found out that he was really the
grandson of General Keith. Just think of Gen-
eral Keith with all that money — millions and
millions they say he has — allowing his grandson
to be in a Home!"
Christopher made a sudden movement. Betty
grasped his arm again. "Be careful !" she breath-
ed in his ear. "Don't let them know we are here!
They would be simply furious."
152
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"But I suppose he didn't know it," said Jose-
phine, "though it seems very queer he shouldn't
have. How did such a thing happen?"
"Well, you see, General Keith didn't like his
daughter's marriage. There was really nothing
against Mr. Lovel, my father says, except that he
was very poor, was of much plainer family than
the Keiths, and was not doing very well in busi-
ness. The Keiths opposed it violently, which
only made the daughter all the more determined
to marry him. I should just feel so, shouldn't
you, Jo?"
"I don't know," said her friend, slowly. "I
am not sure. I think I should think my father
or uncle knew better than I did."
"But if you loved him? Wouldn't you think
you ought to be true to him?"
"Yes, I should think that; but if they asked
me to wait a little while I should think I ought
to do that, because if we were very young they
would probably know best, and if — if I cared
for him I should trust him enough to know we
wouldn't change our minds by waiting. Do you
suppose General Keith asked them to wait?"
"I don't think so. He was always a violent,
determined sort of man, papa says. He was so
furious that the daughter walked out of the house
and married Mr. Lovel. Afterward her mother
begged and begged the General to forgive her,
153
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
but he wouldn't. Mrs. Keith died of a broken
heart. Then the daughter died, and then her
husband, and they were terribly poor. The Gen-
eral never did anything for them, for they were
proud, too, and wouldn't ask, and I don't believe
he would have done it if they had asked, for he
wouldn't to please his wife. When they were
both dead he tried to find the boy, and couldn't.
Chris was living then with some horrible man
who sent him out into the streets to play his
violin. Then he met with the accident that made
him lame. Now his grandfather can't do enough
for him to make up for it all. They say the Gen-
eral is really a changed man. Oh, here are the
boys at last!"
Down the slope came her brother and Brom-
field Hale carrying a canoe. The girls' conver-
sation ceased, and before long they were all
out on the water. When they were out of sight
Betty and Christopher emerged from their hiding-
place.
"We're safe," said Betty. "The Indians have
gone. Why, Chris, what's the matter? How
queer you look! You didn't mind hearing that
story about yourself, did you? You knew it
already. Why, where are you going?"
"I'm going somewhere — I don't know where."
"Oh, Chris, how mean! Why do you mind SO
much? I shouldn't if I were you."
154
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Shouldn't you ? But, you see, you never knew
my father."
"But where are you going?"
"Oh, somewhere — I don't know just where.
Off for a drive somewhere." He walked to
the carriage-house and began to unfasten Sas-
safras. The little horse, weary of waiting,
tossed his head and began to back with great
agility.
"Why don't you take me for a drive?" asked
Betty. "Sassafras looks nice and frisky this
morning. I'd love to go to drive."
"All right," said Christopher, "jump in."
He was rather glad Betty had suggested it. It
would be something to do, something to prevent
his return to his grandfather quite yet. He did
not wish to see him until he had thought things
over. It seemed as though he had lived a life-
time since he left home that morning. Then he
was a child. Now he felt the responsibilities of
a man without a man's knowledge of how to
meet them. He had never heard the story of his
parents in just that way. He must decide what
to do. He wondered if Betty could help him to
decide.
They drove down the hill at a brisk pace,
Sassafras glad to be moving after his long fight
with flies in the Hamiltons' carriage-house. Betty
quite forgot to tell any one that she was going to
155
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
drive, and no one saw them start. It was still
early in the day, for the clocks were striking
eleven when they drove through the village
and turned into the road which led to South
Maybury.
FOR some time the children were silent.
Betty, in spite of her heedlessness, her im-
pulsive frankness of speech, her occasional dis-
regard for the feelings of others, had a kind little
heart. She knew from the look on Christopher's
face, when they came out into the open from the
underground passage, that the words which he
had overheard had made a profound impression
upon him, and that impression had not yet passed
by. He still wore that strange look upon his face.
She glanced up at him as he sat beside her in the
runabout. He was on a high seat and he held
himself erect, handling the reins with the ease of
an experienced driver. He understood horses by
instinct, and it pleased his grandfather to believe
that he inherited the love of them from him.
"Sassafras is quite a handful, isn't he?" said
Betty, at last. "He shies at everything this
morning."
There was no answer from Chris.
"I wish we could have some kind of an ad-
venture, don't you?"
157
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Still there was no answer. Betty began to
think the silence had lasted long enough.
"Oh, Chris, do say something! What is the
matter, anyhow? I don't see why you are quite
so dreadfully cut up. You knew it all before."
"No, I didn't know he hadn't tried to find us.
I can't believe it now, Betty. I don't want to
believe it."
"Then why do you? Why don't you just say,
'It isn't true,' and not bother about it any more?"
"But suppose it is true? If it is true I want
to know it."
"I shouldn't, not if it is so disagreeable. When
a true thing isn't pleasant I would rather not
know it. What's the use? You can't do any-
thing about it now."
"Yes, I can. Only I don't know just what.
And I don't feel that way. I can't believe grand-
father was unkind to my father, and I am not
going to believe it until I know it was really so;
but if it was so I want to know it, because — Oh,
Betty, I can't explain exactly, but I mean I
would rather know things just as they truly are,
and not think they are different from what they
are. I didn't use to feel so. Only last summer,
you know, I pretended I was Uncle Dan Top-
pan's real nephew, and made grandfather think I
was. Don't you remember?"
"Of course I do."
158
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Well, after that I never wanted to be anything
that wasn't true again."
"You don't have to be now. You are your
grandfather's true grandson."
"I know, but then I — He paused.
"What were you going to say? I do hate to
have people stop just as they are going to say
the most interesting thing of all."
"I was just going to say that I'm father's son,
too, and if grandfather wasn't kind to father — •
Oh, I don't know! I'm all mixed up about it.
What would you do, Betty?"
"I wouldn't do anything, I tell you! I'd just
let things go. Chris, are you really going all the
way to South May bury?"
"Do you want to? We may as well. Sassa-
fras is going along so fast it won't take us long."
"Oh, do let's go! It will be fun when we get
there. I love to go to South Maybury and drive
up to the shops, and go skipping on and off the
car tracks. Do you suppose Sassafras will mind
the trolley-cars? Here comes an automobile. Oh,
Chris!"
She found it necessary to grasp the side of the
carriage and hold on tight. Sassafras was cer-
tainly in a gay mood that morning. Further con-
versation was impossible for some time, but at
last Christopher had brought him down to a trot ;
and as there was nothing more to disturb him
« 150
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
at present on the country road, he went quietly
enough, although he insisted upon passing every
vehicle that he saw ahead of him.
"This is the first time Sassafras has ever gone
to South Maybury," said Chris, "and it's the first
time I have ever driven him without grandfather
or Ben."
They were approaching the town now. The
houses along the road were closer together ; there
were one or two persons walking. Presently they
reached a corner where the car tracks turned into
the road they were on, and it became the main
street of the little town. Vehicles were more
numerous now, and here and there was a shop.
In a few minutes they were driving over a paved
street.
"What are we going to do now we are here?"
asked Christopher.
Betty did not reply at once. She was gazing
intently at the people on the street. There were
many more than she had ever before seen to-
gether in South Maybury. They were all mov-
ing in one direction.
"There is something going on," said she.
"Chris! It is! It is! See! Look at the crowds
waiting on that corner! It is coming along
there!"
"What is coming ? What do you mean, Betty ?
"Oh, you stupid! Don't you know? Why,
160
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
the circus, of course. I had forgotten all about
it. Charles is crazy to come. You know, the
signs have been all over everywhere, but I thought
it was coming next week. We'll see the proces-
sion! Oh, won't Charles be wild when he hears
we've been here! Let's go to it, Chris! Have
you got any money? I haven't got a cent. How
much do you suppose it is? I do hope you have
some, for it would be perfectly maddening to be
right here at the very doors of the circus and not
see it."
Christopher investigated his pockets, transfer-
ring the reins from one hand to another in order
to do so. He had just discovered fifty cents in
one pocket, and was in the act of drawing up a
quarter of a dollar from the depths of another,
when Sassafras took the opportunity to stand on
his hind legs. He objected to the close proximity
of a hurdy-gurdy which was grinding out the
strains of a gay march right under his nose. Of
course, any horse of proper spirit would stand on
his hind legs. For a few minutes circus money
was forgotten, while Sassafras's young master de-
voted himself to placing the horse on four legs
again.
"We shall have to put him somewhere," said
Chris. "He would cut up dreadfully if we had
him here when the procession comes along. Let's
take him to a stable. There is one in the next
161
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
street where they know grandfather. I have
been there with him, so I could have it charged,
and save all the money for the circus."
This seemed an excellent plan, so they turned
the corner and drove to the stable. It did not
take long to arrange for the care of Sassafras ; and
in a few minutes the children, on foot, had joined
the crowd in the street, which, with one accord,
was moving toward Market Street, along which
the procession was to come. Christopher had
collected his possessions, and found that they
amounted to the proud sum of one dollar and
thirty-nine cents: quite enough for both to enter
the gates at twenty-five cents each, and to admit
them to several side-shows and buy a sufficient
amount of pop-corn, peanuts, and, perhaps, lemon-
ade. Troubles and family differences, cares and
home duties — all were forgotten. Who could pos-
sibly remember that there is any one else in the
world besides one's self and one's boon com-
panion when a circus is in progress? Certainly
neither Christopher nor Betty. And with eager
faces and light hearts they stood upon the high
steps of the town hall, which fronted on Market
Street, and from this point of vantage watched
that most fascinating of sights to him or her whose
heart has not grown old — the circus parade.
It was only a little circus, comparatively speak-
ing. There was a mere handful of elephants (if
1G2
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
elephants may be counted by handfuls), half a
dozen cages with small "wild beasts," some love-
ly ladies on weary horses which had served their
term as teamsters, no doubt, and were round-
ing out an industrious existence clothed in gay
trappings and bearing the sylph-like forms of the
"Queen of Beauty" and the "Lady Geraldine."
There was a snake-charmer and a lion-tamer,
each with his chosen pet, and best of all, in the
eyes of the admiring public, there was the clown
in red -and -white stripes and a face of chalk.
Betty clutched Chris when the clown came in
sight.
"Charles would give his eyes to be here!" she
whispered. "He adores clowns."
It was the only thought that either of them
gave to the families at home. When the last
object of their admiration had been trundled by
— it was the fat lady, drawn by six white horses
— they hurried down the steps and followed the
procession. It was not far to the grounds, where
great white tents had received the parading treas-
ures; and Christopher having produced his half-
dollar, the two were admitted to the sacred
precincts. And from that moment time was for-
gotten, for there is no time to think of tune when
one is absolutely and entirely happy. And how
can one avoid being absolutely and entirely hap-
py when the smell of the sawdust has penetrated
163
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
the nostrils, the sound of music is falling upon
the ears, the taste of peanuts is upon the tongue,
the sight of the funniest, the most versatile clown
who ever turned a somersault is rejoicing the
eyes, and one is accompanied by the most con-
genial of companions who echoes one's dearest
wish almost before it has been expressed?
The " Fat Lady " had been called upon, the
moving pictures representing "A Lost Child"
had been watched with breathless attention, the
"Thin Gentleman Whose Only Food is Tacks"
had been closely scanned with audible doubts as
to the genuineness of his nourishment, the "Trav-
eller from the Antipodes with His Linguistic
Chimpanzee" had been questioned as to his
travels, and the children had paused to count
their money in order to find out how many more
pleasures were still at their command, when Betty,
watching the crowd while Chris did the counting,
gave a sudden and delighted exclamation.
"Why, Chris," she cried, in a high, piercing
voice, "if there isn't somebody we know! It is
George Smith! How did he ever get here?
Hollo, George!" She raised her voice still high-
er, for George was separated from them by a
number of persons and appeared to be slightly
deaf. Betty had no idea, however, of allowing
him to escape; in fact, it did not occur either
to her or to Chris that he was not eager to be
164
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
recognized. They elbowed their way through
the crowd, and reached his side just as he was
about to enter the tent of "Fascinating Fer-
nando Who Refuses to be Fastened."
"Hollo, George!" they both exclaimed together,
and there was nothing for George to do but re-
turn their friendly greeting.
"When did you come?" asked Chris. "Are
you staying at May bury?"
"I'm going over there soon," said George.
"You needn't let on you seen me. I'm here
looking for a job."
"Have you given up being a railroad man?"
asked Chris.
"Well, I'm thinking of giving it up. It don't
pay very well. I was only on for a time, anyhow.
I was doin' it for another feller, and he's back.
He was sick at the hospital — got his foot hurt fall-
in' off a train. When he got well he come back
and took his job again. I'm goin' home for a lit-
tle while, but I just stopped over here to see
the circus. I say, have you seen all the shows?
It's an awful smart feller in here, they say. He
can untie any knot you put on to him, and hand-
cuffs and chains and everything. He slips right
out of 'em as slick as anything. He's a regular
Houdini. Come along in!"
So the three entered the tent of the " Fascinat-
ing Fernando."
165
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
There was no doubt about his fascination. His
charm was increased by the fact that the by-
standers could help to tie him up; indeed, their
efforts were part of the performance. Each one
lent a hand and gave an extra twist to the rope
which was used to bind him, and both Chris and
Betty assisted in the process. So wonderful were
his antics, his writhings, his suppleness, that for
a time they forgot to look at his face. When
Betty did glance at it she looked again. He had
very long and thick flaxen hair, which to the
more sophisticated would have suggested a wig.
His color was so high and so steady that there
was no doubt in Betty's mind of its being sup-
plied artificially, and he wore a magnificent
blond mustache which neatly matched his hair.
She had never seen such hair before, but his eyes
and his ears were strangely familiar to her. Where
had she met, or tried to meet, those restless, shifty
eyes, and where had she seen those enormous ears
which stuck out so far from the head? She stood
staring at him, forgetting to watch his actions,
and with so steady a gaze that she attracted his
glance in return. In an instant the " Fascinating
Fernando" wheeled about and presented a new
variety of performance. In a high falsetto voice
he requested the audience to tie his hands behind
him and to fasten one foot to his hands. This
was done by George Smith, who had proved to be
166
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
particularly clever at the work of tying. The
" Fascinating Fernando " wriggled out of the
knots, and then with a low bow disappeared be-
hind a curtain.
"Oh, it's over !" sighed Chris. " I liked it about
as well as anything. I suppose it's dinner-time
and he's gone behind there to get some. I'm
awfully hungry, aren't you, Betty? I forgot all
about dinner. I suppose we ought to be going
back to Maybury Centre."
They were standing close to the curtain behind
which the " Fascinator " had vanished.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Betty. "Well, I sup-
pose we ought. General Keith won't like it if
you are very late, Chris. Are you going over
there to-day, George?"
"Not to-day. I'm lookin' for a job here. And
mind you, don't let on you seen me."
They moved slowly away. They did not look
back, and so they were not aware of being
watched. The " Fascinating Fernando " came
out from behind his curtain, at first cautiously,
and then with more boldness. He saw the part-
ing at his tent door. George Smith walked away
in one direction, Chris and Betty moved quickly
toward an exit gate. The " Fascinator" followed
Smith. He overtook him as he reached another
side-show and engaged him in conversation, pres-
ently inviting him to see the show at his, the
167
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
" Fascinator's," expense. It was a pleasant sur-
prise to George to receive such an invitation, and
he did not hesitate an instant in accepting it.
Betty and Chris, with slow and lingering foot-
steps, moved away from the great white tents
which covered so much that was wonderful.
They walked to the stable, and presently they
were driving homeward at a brisk pace, very
hungry, very tired, and with time now to wonder
how their absence would be regarded by the
authorities. When they drove up the steep
ascent of Pringle Farm they found General Keith
awaiting them upon the piazza. He assisted
Betty to alight with the utmost politeness. He
bade Mrs. Hamilton good-bye in the same stately
manner, and stepped into the runabout. Chris-
topher drove away without a word, but he glanced
at Betty. Mrs. Hamilton had taken her hand
and was leading her into the house. She looked
very solemn, and so did Betty. It was some
time before General Keith spoke. When he did
it was with a constrained voice.
"I did not expect to see you alive," said he.
"Will you kindly give an account of yourself?
As I expected, Miss Betty was with you. I find
it difficult to forgive her."
"It wasn't Betty's fault. I asked her to go.
There was no harm in our going. I'm twelve
years old."
168
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
The General turned and looked at him. In his
astonishment he forgot to be angry. At last he
found his voice.
"You may be twelve years old, but you are
still my grandson. I expect you to go nowhere
without my permission. Where have you been?"
"To the circus." There was a moment's si-
lence. The joys of the morning had not yet lost
their charm. The troubles of the morning had
not yet reasserted themselves. "It was splendid!
Oh, grand, don't you love the circus? Even if
you don't now, didn't you when you were only
twelve?"
"I think perhaps I did. I — I hardly remem-
ber. Tell me all about it, Christopher."
And he forgot for the time his displeasure, and
Christopher his cares. It was not until they were
at home again, and the delayed luncheon had been
eaten and Christopher was alone, while his grand-
father took his afternoon nap, that he began again
to think over all that he had heard that morning
when he and Betty were hidden in the under-
ground passage.
XI
ONE afternoon a few days later than that
upon which Betty and Christopher played
Indians and went to the circus, Rachel Amy Mar-
tin walked up to Pringle Farm. Her mother had
sent her upon an errand which was to her of the
greatest importance, and Rachel Amy had re-
ceived careful directions as to the manner of
doing it.
"Ring the door-bell no matter who you see out-
side, and give the envelope to the person who
opens the door," said Mrs. Martin. "Don't you
think you can get out of it by givin' it to any of
the young folks. They'll only lose it before Mrs.
Hamilton hears a word about it. If I give a four-
o'clock I want that the invites should get to the
right folks. Some I'll send by mail, like the one
to Mrs. Davis over to West Newbury, and some
others like that. The Toppans have got to be
asked, I suppose, though I hate to do it real bad,
seein' they're so thick with that Miss Lucetta
Smith ; but the Toppans have got a kind o' posi-
tion here, and I don't feel as though I'd better
170
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
leave 'em out. I'll send the invite to them by
Mr. Tarleton. You can leave these others on
your way to Pringle Farm, Rachel Amy, and mind
you do it right and don't be makin' any mistakes."
So Rachel Amy departed with a number of
notes which by the time she reached Pringle
Farm had all been disposed of at various houses
along the way, with the exception of the one ad-
dressed in her mother's stiff, cramped handwrit-
ing to "Mrs. Hamilton and family." It con-
tained a card upon which was her mother's name,
"Mrs. Eliza Martin," done in South Maybury by
a professional, with heavy shadings on the down-
ward slope of the letters in true Spencerian style.
At the lower left-hand corner was written, "Four-
o'clock," in quotation marks, and beneath that
the date, and "R. S. V. P." These cards of invita-
tion had cost Mrs. Martin much time and thought,
and were the result of detailed consultation with
the man in South Maybury who wrote what he
designated as "calling cards," and of prolonged
study of the columns of certain magazines which
impart advice about social affairs.
Obeying her mother's instructions, Rachel Amy
marched straight to the front door, although
Pauline and Betty were near at hand under the
trees, and Florence and her friends were on the
piazza. She rang the bell, apparently uncon-
scious of the fact that Pauline was approaching.
171
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Hollo, Rachel," said Pauline, who, having
discovered that it was a trial to Rachel Amy to
bear two names, had immediately begun to call
her by but one, "I'm glad to see you. Have you
a note for mamma?"
"Yes," said the girl. "No, don't take it,
Pauline. I've got to give it to the hired help.
Mother said on no account to give it to any of
you girls. It's an invitation to a four-o'clock,
and I've got to be very particular."
"I'm afraid you will wait there until night,
then," said Pauline, laughing good-naturedly.
"The maids have all been allowed to go off on a
picnic, and they won't get home till supper-time.
Unless you insist upon mamma's coming down
to take it herself, I'm afraid you'll have to give
it to me. I will take it right up to her so you
will know it is all safe."
"Perhaps she could give me an answer to
take back, and then mother 'd be satisfied," said
Rachel Amy. "Mother says she knows it isn't
customary to put R. S. V. P. on four-o'clock cards
— that means ' answer if you please ' — though I
can't see why, for the letters don't stand for those
words; but she's got to know how many is com-
ing on account of the maple syrup. There, I
wasn't to mention maple syrup, so please don't
say anything about it, Pauline."
"No, I won't. Just go sit down under the
172
trees with Betty, and I'll come back again as
soon as I can."
But Betty had disappeared, so Rachel Amy
waited there alone until Pauline returned. She
could not help looking shyly now and then at the
girls and young men on the porch. They seemed
to be having such a good time, to judge by the
amount of laughing and talking that they were
doing. Everything that was said appeared to be
of the most amusing nature. Rachel Amy's life
thus far had not known much laughter. She was
of a serious temperament, but she was young.
She would have liked "a good time," too. But
how could a girl have that who lived in a house
that was literally as well as metaphorically "di-
vided against itself"? She did not put this ques-
tion into precisely those words as she sat watch-
ing the others, half in interest, half in envy, but
she thought of her mother's peculiar disposition,
and of her dear aunt Lucetta on the other side of
the wire netting. She would have been glad, too,
to be friends with her cousins the Smiths. They
might all have been young together. Rachel Amy
longed for somebody in the house who was young.
But now she had a friend of her own age in Pau-
line. Chris was her friend, too, to be sure, but
he was younger and only a boy. She turned and
smiled happily at Pauline as she came to her over
the grass.
173
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Here is the answer," Pauline called out.
"Mamma and two of us will be very glad to come."
"Only two of you? Dear me, I'm afraid mother
won't like it unless you all come."
"Why, it would make a great many! Papa
and my brothers are so busy doing things when
they are up here that mamma thought it better
to decline for them. Papa is not here now, and
he may not be back in tune for it, and Florence
is going away to make some visits, so there would
not be anybody but Betty and me to go with
mamma, anyway."
"All right, I'll tell mother that, and then she'll
feel better satisfied. Pauline, I just love that
book you lent me. It's splendid. I haven't quite
finished it, so I couldn't bring it back to-day."
"Oh, there's no hurry about bringing it back.
How far have you gone?"
They fell into an animated discussion of the
book and of other things of equal interest to them
both. The afternoon passed rapidly away. The
shadows lengthened on the grass. The young
people left the piazza and went off for a drive,
the boys harnessing the horses themselves, as the
stable-men had gone to the picnic. Betty had
vanished on some private enterprise of her own,
and no one interrupted the two girls under the
trees.
It was nearly six o'clock when a little girl came
174
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
hurriedly up the hill. She had evidently been
running, for her face was flushed and she breathed
quickly. She came straight to the bench where
Pauline and Rachel Amy were sitting. Betty
and Brownie came out of the house as she ap-
proached, and reached the bench at the same
time that she did. "Hollo, Lucy!" said Betty.
"Come along with me. We'll go out to the
barn."
It was Lucy Smith, and Betty thought this a
most tactful way of separating the two cousins,
who were not allowed to be on speaking terms.
Lucy scarcely heeded her. She had lost her
quiet little manner, her demure way of walking
and speaking. She called out, excitedly, to her
cousin:
"Rachel Amy, you'd better come right home!
Aunt Lucetta sent me to tell you. Your mother's
sick — at least she was groaning, and we thought
she was sick."
Rachel Amy started to her feet. "Has Aunt
Lucetta gone in there?"
"Yes, she went in, and your mother was real
nice to her — I guess she thought maybe she was
going to die. Aunt Lucetta says she's better
now, but she thought you ought to come home.
We knew you was here with the invitations for
the four-o'clock. We heard your mother telling
you."
ia 175
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"I oughtn't to have stayed so long!" exclaimed
her cousin. "Oh, if mother has only made up
with Aunt Lucetta!" And she ran down the hill
without stopping to say good-bye.
"Do you think she really has?" asked Betty.
"I don't know/- replied Lucy, calmly. "We
think she's going to get married, and she wants
to leave Rachel Amy with us. She told Aunt
Lucetta to-day she might buy her half of the
house. She'd like to sell her share to Aunt
Lucetta, and she said something about leaving
Rachel Amy here if she went to live somewhere
else. And we heard Mr. Tarleton talking in there,
and saying he was going into business over to
Kingford. We hear most everything through
the wire netting. To-day we heard her groaning.
We thought it was just her way, but the groans
got so awful that Aunt Lucetta got scared. She
just couldn't stand it, she was so afraid Mrs.
Martin might be real sick, after all, this time.
You know Mrs. Martin is my aunt Lucetta's
sister, so of course she feels worried when she
thinks she's real sick."
"I shouldn't be," said Betty. "I should just
hate her, and be glad to hear her groaning."
' ' Why, Betty !' ' remonstrated Pauline. ' ' She's
her own sister!"
"I don't care if she is. She's a hateful person,
and deserves to groan. If you behaved like that,
176
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Paul, I should hate you." Then suddenly Betty
began to laugh.
"Betty, how can you laugh like that?" asked
Pauline, gravely. She would not for the world
hurt Lucy's feelings, and the conversation had
become very personal.
"I can't help it. Only think how funny it
would be," said Betty, as soon as she could speak,
"for you and me to live with a wire netting be-
tween us! Suppose we had one in our house, and
half the family lived on one side and half on the
other! We're an uneven number of children,
so one of us would have to take turns. I speak
to be the one. It would give me such a nice
change of relations."
"Betty, you're too bad!" said Pauline, trying
not to laugh on Lucy's account. But Lucy was
not offended.
"I don't mind," said she. "It's all Mrs. Mar-
tin's doings, and we think she's crazy — Aunt
Lucetta and I do. Aunt Lucetta minds it, and
wishes she could be friends again and all live to-
gether, but I don't. Mrs. Martin wasn't nice to
us and neither was Rachel Amy. I'm glad there
is a wire netting."
"I should think you would be. Don't you
think Rachel Amy is rather stuck-up?" It was
Betty who asked this question.
"I don't think she is," said Pauline, "and I've
177
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
gotten to know her quite well. Maybe she used
to be, but I think now she's different."
"She's always been very stuck-up with me,"
said Lucy.
"There!" exclaimed Betty.
"Well, you see if I am not right," said Pauline.
"I think she has been with you, Lucy, because
her mother makes her, and with Betty because
Betty has never liked her, and people always
know when other people don't like them; but I
think Rachel Amy down underneath isn't one bit
proud or stuck-up, and you will both find it out
some day and like her."
"Oh, that's just like you, Paul," said her
sister. "You always take the side of the down-
trodden, and stand up for unpopular people. It's
just the way it always is in school, Lucy. If
Pauline thinks a girl is neglected or isn't liked,
and the other girls don't notice her enough, Paul
always goes and gets intimate with her and helps
her out of her troubles."
" I should think everybody would love Pauline,"
said Lucy.
"They do!" cried Betty, throwing her arms
around her sister's neck and kissing her. "She's
a darling, dear."
"Betty, you goose!" said Pauline. "You ex-
aggerate awfully. Don't believe her, Lucy."
"I do believe her," said Lucy, standing directly
178
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
in front of the sisters. " I almost wish you were
my friend instead of Rachel Amy's, but that's a
mean wish, because I have Aunt Lucetta and my
brother George, but Rachel Amy only has her
mother."
"I can be friends with you both," said Pauline.
"No, you couldn't be that. You see, we are
not allowed to share things. Even though we
own the same aunt we're not allowed to share her.
Of course, we couldn't have the same friend."
"I think it is perfectly outrageous!" exclaimed
Betty. "That horrid wire netting comes poking
in between you and everything; but I'm glad
you've got that nice Miss Lucetta on your side
of it, Lucy."
The house with the wire netting was not the
only house in Maybury Centre where trouble was
to be found. At Keith Hall the master was un-
happy, in spite of all the luxury and beauty with
which he was surrounded, and in spite, too, of the
fact that he had with him the grandson whom he
loved so devotedly. It was owing to this grand-
son that General Keith was anxious. He did
not know what had come over the boy during
these last few days. Christopher had suddenly
become moody and silent. The childish face had
grown older. The look of sunny happiness had
left it. The boy seemed careworn. He did not
respond in any way to his grandfather, nor did
179
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
he make any affectionate demonstration to the old
man, as it was his real nature to do. He would
sit silently brooding over something for an hour
at a time. What it was the General could not
imagine. He decided, therefore, that the boy
was ill, and he anxiously requested the house-
keeper to feel his pulse, and he watched his ap-
petite with a close attention that was pathetic.
"I believe I will send for the doctor," said he,
suddenly, at dinner one night. "You are not
eating anything, Christopher, and you have al-
ways liked broiled chicken. This is your favorite
kind of ice-cream, too. You are ill. Have you
ever had measles? — or chicken-pox? And what
are the other things children have? You are
going to have one of them, I have no doubt. We
will try and get the doctor here to-night. There
is a very good man at West May bury."
"I'm not sick. I don't need the doctor," said
Christopher.
"Then what is it?" asked the General, getting
up from the table and walking to and fro. " Some-
thing is the matter. Can you look me in the face
and say nothing is the matter?" He paused by
Christopher's chair, and placing his hand under
the boy's chin, he turned up the face and scanned
it eagerly, tenderly, with a long, searching look.
Christopher gazed back at him, the boy's blue
eyes staring unflinchingly into those of the man.
180
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
The General's eyes had once been dark and bright
and keen as an eagle's. They were keen now,
but they were faded. He was growing old.
" What is the matter, boy ? Can't you tell me. "
"No, grandfather, I don't believe I can."
"There is something on your mind, isn't there?
You are worried about something."
"Yes, grandfather."
"Well, what is it?" He was walking up and
down again now. "Can't you tell me? Is it
money? Do you want some more money?"
"Oh no!"
"Is it — is it the matter we were speaking of
the other day? I mean the name. Can it be
you are troubled about that?"
no, grandfather. That doesn't trouble
~^e I am not going to change my
a not, eh? Decided the matter for
ve you? And since when were you
naster? I tell you, sir, if I say you
*nge it, you shall change it! You are
and I am your legal guardian. I can
ju change it!" The General had unmis-
1H / lost his temper.
Chiistopher said nothing. In a moment Gen-
eral Keith paused again in his walk. He stood
by the table and rested his hands on it while he
leaned over and looked at the boy.
181
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
he make any affectionate demonstration to the old
man, as it was his real nature to do. He would
sit silently brooding over something for an hour
at a time. What it was the General could not
imagine. He decided, therefore, that the boy
was ill, and he anxiously requested the house-
keeper to feel his pulse, and he watched his ap-
petite with a close attention that was pathetic.
"I believe I will send for the doctor," said he,
suddenly, at dinner one night. "You are not
eating anything, Christopher, and you have al-
ways liked broiled chicken. This is your favorite
kind of ice-cream, too. You are ill. Have you
ever had measles? — or chicken-pox? And what
are the other things children have? You are
going to have one of them, I have no doubt. We
will try and get the doctor here to-night. Tb'
is a very good man at West May bury."
"I'm not sick. I don't need the docf
Christopher.
"Then what is it?" asked theGe
up from the table and walking to and L
thing is the matter. Can you look me IL
and say nothing is the matter?" He pau
Christopher's chair, and placing his hand u
the boy's chin, he turned up the face and scam.
it eagerly, tenderly, with a long, searching look.
Christopher gazed back at him, the boy's blue
eyes staring unflinchingly into those of the man.
180
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
The General's eyes had once been dark and bright
and keen as an eagle's. They were keen now,
but they were faded. He was growing old.
"What is the matter, boy ? Can't you tell me."
"No, grandfather, I don't believe I can."
"There is something on your mind, isn't there?
You are worried about something."
"Yes, grandfather."
"Well, what is it?" He was walking up and
down again now. "Can't you tell me? Is it
money? Do you want some more money?"
"Oh no!"
"Is it — is it the matter we were speaking of
the other day? I mean the name. Can it be
that you are troubled about that?"
"Oh no, grandfather. That doesn't trouble
me. Of course I am not going to change my
name."
"Oh, you're not, eh? Decided the matter for
yourself, have you? And since when were you
your own master? I tell you, sir, if I say you
are to change it, you shall change it! You are
a minor, and I am your legal guardian. I can
make you change it!" The General had unmis-
takably lost his temper.
Christopher said nothing. In a moment Gen-
eral Keith paused again in his walk. He stood
by the table and rested his hands on it while he
leaned over and looked at the boy.
181
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"I dislike very much to go into these details,
Christopher, or to point out to any one the bene-
fits I have conferred; most of all do I dislike to
enter into such details with my grandson. But
you seem to have forgotten the respect that is
due me. Do you realize, sir, that you would be
penniless except for me? — that you were a home-
less orphan? — a — a — " He was about to say a
cripple, but he stopped in time. The boy's lame-
ness was one of his grandfather's heaviest trials.
"To be sure, the Toppans were ready to adopt
you, but what would that have been compared
to the home and the care that I have given
you?"
"I know all that, grandfather," said Christo-
pher, speaking at last, " but I can't help it. I
am very much obliged to you, but I can't change
my name. Father wouldn't like it."
"Then don't change it!" shouted General Keith.
"And go to your room at once, sir. I don't wish
to see you again to-night."
Christopher obeyed him. The General watched
him as he left the dining-room. His limp was
scarcely perceptible, but it was there. The boy
paused a moment in the hall and looked back,
and as he did so, by a sudden impulse, the old
man opened wide his arms. In a moment the
boy was in them.
"What is it, child?" asked the grandfather.
182
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"What is troubling you? Can't you tell your
old grand?"
"I can't. You wouldn't like it," whispered
Chris, who was crying — "you wouldn't like it."
And he would say nothing more.
After awhile he went to bed, and General
Keith, sitting by his library table, pretended to
read. What could have happened to the boy?
He thought of going to consult somebody, but
his pride forbade it. Mrs. Toppan might help
him, or Mrs. Hamilton. On the whole, Mrs.
Hamilton would be the better person, for Mrs.
Toppan must not know that Christopher was not
happy. She had wished to adopt him for her
own. It would not do to let her be aware of the
fact that life with his grandfather was not a com-
plete success. Indeed, it would be quite out of
the question to impart such a secret to any one.
No; the General had never been in the habit of
consulting others about his affairs; he would not
begin now. Probably it was just some fancy of
Christopher's which he would get over. All chil-
dren had fancies of some kind, presumably. This
matter of the name, now. It was an idea of the'
boy's that he could not give up his father's name.
No doubt he had an exaggerated sense of the
duty that he thought he owed to the memory of
his dead father. It would be best to let matters
"lest awhile — to say nothing, and to fill his mind
183
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
with other things; in short, to direct his atten-
tion from all serious affairs, and then, later, to
bring up the subject again. For the General had
no intention of yielding; he had never yielded.
Why should he begin now? Of course, his grand-
son should be made to do as he thought best, and
of course it was best that the Keith name should
inherit the Keith money. But all in good time —
all in good time.
And having decided thus, he tiptoed up to see
if Christopher was awake, and finding that he
was, he kissed him and told him not to worry
about things. And Christopher, who had also
been thinking things over, and who loved the old
man as truly as he himself was loved, patted his
hand and promised not to worry. He honestly
tried to forget the story he had overheard, and
which had been the cause of his changed attitude
toward his grandfather, but that was a most diffi-
cult task. He had brooded over it so much that
by this time it had attained overwhelming pro-
portions. It seemed to him that his grandfather
must be a very cruel man, and yet he could not
reconcile this view of him with the one which he
already knew. It was all very puzzling. But
he wanted to love him, and now that the General
had come to him so tenderly, he could not believe
him to be cruel. No, there was some mistake
somewhere. And still holding his grandfather's
184
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
hand while the old man sat beside his bed, the
boy fell asleep.
It was a long, long time before the General
moved. It seemed so wonderful a thing to hold
the relaxed, childish fingers within his own.
"And he is mine!" thought he. "My own
grandson — my daughter's son — my boy!"
xn
THE afternoon appointed for Mrs. Martin's
four -o'clock proved to be one of the hot-
test of the season. For many days the sun had
been shining from a cloudless sky, and the
earth was so baked with its rays that even at
night there was but little relief. There had been
no rain for weeks, and the farmers were growing
anxious; every morning and every evening they
searched the horizon and peered at the direction
of the wind, hoping for signs of change, after the
manner of those whose livelihood depends upon
so uncertain a factor as the weather. Mrs. Mar-
tin had been saying for a week that it would be
"just her luck to have the drought break up the
day she most wished to have pleasant; she never
did want rain but what it was clear, nor want it
clear but what it rained." But this time her
gloomy predictions did not come true, and she,
not the farmers, was destined to be gratified.
Since early dawn she and her daughter had
been busy, and when at half-past three they seated
themselves in the best parlor, to await with what
186
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
patience they could muster the arrival of their
guests at four o'clock, they were so tired that
Mrs. Martin did not hesitate to declare that she
would never give a four - o'clock again as long
as she lived. Rachel Amy's new dress, made for
the occasion in South Maybury, was thick and
scratchy, and so tight in the collar that she felt
as though she were being strangled, and her new
shoes gave forth so alarming a creak that it em-
barrassed her to take a step. The creaking shoes
not only seemed to make the day hotter, but they
hurt. Mrs. Martin, in a thick green, silk which
accentuated the sallowness of her complexion,
felt that the consciousness of being well dressed
atoned somewhat for the arduous preparations.
"I'm glad I got green, for it's altogether worn,"
she said to her daughter, as she rocked to and fro
and farmed herself. "I noticed Florence Hamil-
ton had on a green last Sabbath in church. Hers
was only a muslin, and couldn't have cost more'n
a quarter of a dollar a yard, if that. It does beat
all the cheap clothes those rich folks wear. I
suppose they think anything is good enough for
up here in the country, and that's the very rea-
son I bought me and I bought you a new dress,
Rachel Amy. I set my heart on provin' to 'em
that I know what's what. My, ain't it hot!
Are you sure you set all the saucers right, and
that the maple syrup's on, Rachel Amy? There,
187
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
I never once thought of havin' the melodeon
standin' open, with a piece of music on it, so as
to look as if one of us played regular. You fix
it now, Rachel Amy."
Her daughter creaked over to the melodeon,
arranged it as she was directed, and creaked back
again to her place.
"I do hope they'll all come punctual," con-
tinued Mrs. Martin. " If there's anything I can't
abide it's havin' to wait. What time is it now,
Rachel Amy?"
Rachel Amy creaked into the next room and
reported the hour as twenty minutes of four.
" Twenty minutes yet! Dear me, those shoes
of yours make an awful sight of noise ! If there's
anything I do hate it's hearin' creakin' shoes on
a hot day, or any day, as to that. It seems as
if it was just my luck that you happened 'on such
shoes, child. It gives me a headache to have
you move. You'll have to keep as quiet as you
can. It's real unfortunate for me, though, with
no one else to depend upon. It does seem to me
as if there was no one had things go wrong the
way I do. And such a hot day as this is, and I
one who feels the heat so ! I don't believe there's
a person who feels heat as much as I do, and yet
I'm so thin. If I was fleshy there'd be some rea-
son for it. It just wilts me right down. You're
pretty lucky, Rachel Amy, that you don't take
188
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
after me in feelin' the heat. Go tell your aunt
Lucetta and Lucy to come in now. Won't it be
a surprise to all the folks to find the wire netting's
down, and that we're friends again ! I always was
of a most forgivin' nature."
Rachel Amy did as she was bidden, and pres-
ently Miss Lucetta and Lucy were established in
Mrs. Martin's parlor. Intercourse between the
two branches of the family was still somewhat
strained, but the netting had been taken away
and business arrangements had been talked over.
Miss Lucetta and Rachel Amy felt very happy
about it, but to George and Lucy it was a different
matter. They had no reason for loving their
aunt Eliza. George had arrived at Maybury
Centre that morning, but upon finding the net-
ting gone he had left the house again and had
passed the greater part of the day in the woods.
"You look as cool as anything, Lucetta. It's
real aggravatin' to see you, and me feelin' the
heat so much," said Mrs. Martin.
But before her sister had time to reply to this
amiable greeting the first guest was seen coming
up the path. It was Mrs. Davis, of West May-
bury, a very great lady indeed, and her presence
at the feast, as well as her punctual arrival,
caused Mrs. Martin to forget, for a time at least,
the perversity of human affairs. Most of the
guests were prompt, and by twenty minutes past
189
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
four they were all there with the exception of the
Hamiltons. The news of the reconciliation had
already spread, and Miss Lucetta was greeted
with marked cordiality. Mrs. Martin cast many
an anxious glance toward the front door as she
stood by the mantel-piece and conversed with her
friends. She intended that they should be seated
later, but until all had assembled they should
remain standing. Where were the Hamiltons?
It would be just her luck if something had hap-
pened to prevent them from coming, but in that
case they certainly should have sent word. It
was difficult to talk with this possibility in her
mind, but at last a stir in the room and the turn-
ing of several heads toward the windows gave
indication of an arrival of some sort, and present-
ly Mrs. Hamilton came in accompanied by her
three daughters.
"I'm real pleased you've come at last," said
Mrs. Martin, shaking hands with, each in turn,
and then introducing them to the other guests.
"I didn't know as you'd ever get here."
"We were delayed just as we were starting,"
said Mrs. Hamilton. "Something was wrong
with the harness. You see, I have my eldest
daughter with me after all, Mrs. Martin. She is
not going away until to-morrow, so I took the
liberty of bringing her."
"Well, I'm pleased to see her," said Mrs. Mar-
190
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
tin, "as long as we're not sittin' at table with
regular set places. I did invite a lady to take her
place when I heard she couldn't come, but I
presume it won't be too crowded. Now, if you'll
all be seated — She pointed to the sofa and
chairs which had been arranged with their backs
to the four walls of the room. All sat down, and
for a moment there was profound silence. It was
broken by Betty.
"Are we going to play games?" she asked.
Her voice was loud and clear. She was intensely
interested in the proceedings.
"No, we're not," replied her hostess.
"Oh!" said Betty, with unmistakable disap-
pointment. "Then what are we going to do?"
Florence, who was sitting next to her, touched
her foot gently with her own. " Do hush, Betty !"
she whispered.
Betty was about to respond in some way to
this when her attention was arrested by Mrs.
Martin's next remark. Evidently these "city
folks" were in the habit of receiving entertain-
ment of some kind, and they should find that
Maybury Centre was not behind New York city.
"We are to have some music," said Mrs. Mar-
tin. "Mrs. Davis, I presume you play. Will
you be so kind as to give us a tune on the me-
lodeon?"
"Why, Lizy Martin!" cried Mrs. Davis, who
13 191
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
looked the personification of plumpness and pros-
perity, "I haven't touched a piano, let alone a
melodeon, since I was married. I sh'd forget to
keep my feet goin' sure as anything. Get some
of the young folks to play us something. There's
your Rachel Amy. I presume she can play."
But Rachel Amy, in an agony of shyness, van-
ished into the next room, and the sound of her
shoes was heard in a diminuendo as she hastened
to the remotest corner of her mother's share of
the house.
"There!" said Mrs. Martin. "To think of all
the money I've spent on her musical education,
and now she won't put her finger to the keys!
Don't any of your girls play, Mrs. Hamilton?"
"Florence does," piped out Betty, who had not
quite forgiven her sister for her signal of silence.
"Yes, Florence plays," said Mrs. Hamilton;
"though I don't know whether you have ever
played on a melodeon, have you, dear?"
"Never," said Florence. "I'm sure I never
could."
" I could," said Betty. " I've tried it. Would
you like me to play 'Home, Sweet Home, with
Variations'?"
Without waiting to be urged, she went to the
little organ and played her "piece." As she oc-
casionally forgot to keep her feet in action, be-
ing so fully occupied with her hands, the music
192
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
was somewhat halting and gasping in its effect,
but no one seemed to mind.
"Isn't it hot!" exclaimed Mrs. Davis, when she
had finished thanking her.
"Would you like fans?" asked Mrs. Martin.
"Rachel Amy, hand round the fans."
Rachel Amy, who had appeared when Betty
began to play, procured a pile of palm-leaf fans
and distributed them as far as they would go.
"My, but your shoes creak!" said Betty, quite
audibly, from the music-stool. Rachel Amy's face
became more deeply flushed than before, but she
did not speak.
"Come, sit down by me, child," said Mrs. Top-
pan, making room for her on the sofa; "you look
real tired, Rachel Amy. I guess you've been
working hard getting ready; and it's such a hot
day."
"Well, if anybody's felt the heat I guess it's
me," said Mrs. Martin. "It's not worth while
for you to be sittin' down now, Rachel Amy.
It's time we had the refreshments. If you'll ex-
cuse me a minute, ladies — " She left the room,
followed by her daughter, and the visitors fanned
and rocked and talked while she was gone, and
Betty, in response to a request from Mrs. Davis,
again played "Home, Sweet Home."
"I did it better that time," said she. "I only
forgot my feet once. Would you like to hear
193
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
'Monastery Bells'?" But before she had played
more than the opening bars of that classic she
was interrupted by the return of their hostess,
who came in bearing a large tray, and followed
by Rachel Amy carrying a smaller one. These
trays were placed upon the centre-table, from the
top of which Mrs. Toppan hurriedly removed the
piles of books and the ornamental lamp at the
request of Mrs. Martin, who had not done this
before the company came, for the obvious reason
that she wished her new lamp to be seen and
admired.
"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin. "I d' know
as it's etiquettical, but I thought it would be real
acceptable and something new at a four-o'clock
to have maple syrup instead of tea. It's more
substantial, anyway. Rachel Amy, you hand
round the saucers. Ain't her shoes awful,
though? Suppose you try goin' on your tip-
toes, Rachel Amy, and then you won't make such
a noise. I hope it ain't givin' any of you a head-
ache like it has me. You're lucky if it hasn't.
I don't believe anybody ever had such headaches
as I have. It does seem sometimes as though I
was especially picked out by the Lord to suffer."
While she talked she handed the plates, upon
each of which was a glass saucer containing
the maple syrup, to her daughter, who in turn
distributed them among the guests.
194
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"It's real hot; be careful you don't burn your
mouth," whispered Rachel Amy to each person.
The guests stirred and hesitated. No one felt
like burning her mouth on a hot day. There was
no doubt about the heat in the syrup, for steam
was certainly to be seen rising from each saucer.
One or two tried the effect of blowing upon the
spoonful. No one spoke for a long time. At
last Betty laid down her spoon.
"Goody, but it's sweet!" she exclaimed. "I
don't believe I can eat another drop. It makes
me feel — "
"Betty!" said her mother and Florence to-
gether.
"There goes Chris!" put in Pauline, who was
by the window and had heroically disposed of all
of her syrup. Her remark effectually diverted
Betty's attention from the possible effects of the
refreshments.
"Oh, I want to speak to him!" she cried, set-
ting her plate upon the music-stool, from which
she had quickly jumped down, and, hurrying to
the front door, she ran out-of-doors, glad to es-
cape from the stifling atmosphere of the crowded
parlor.
"Chris, where are you going?" she called out.
"Oh, I'm so glad you've come along! We're
having the most awful time at a party. I don't
think I'll go back. I was going to call you in,
195
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
but it is so nice and fresh outside I am going to
stay out. Such a party ! We are all eating hor-
rible, hot, sweet stuff that burns your mouth and
makes you feel ill! What are you going to do?
I'll go with you."
Christopher hesitated. Then he said, slowly:
"I've been to see George Smith. I heard he was
here, and I — I wanted to speak to him."
"What do you want to speak to George Smith
about? Chris, you act just as if you had a secret.
Is it with George Smith? I think it will be real
mean if you don't tell me, too, when we are such
intimate friends. You haven't been over for ever
so long. I thought you must be mad about some-
thing, only I knew there wasn't anything you
could possibly be mad with me for."
"Oh no," said Christopher, "I'm not mad
with you." He was moving slowly away from
her. "I think if you'll excuse me, Betty, I'll
go home now."
"That means you don't want me to know it.
I think it's very strange. You are certainly
quite queer, Chris. You look different. I be-
lieve you are mad!"
"Oh no, I'm not! Indeed I'm not, Betty."
"Then if you're not, why don't you stay and
talk to me? Or we can walk a little way to-
gether. I'm perfectly sick of the party and the
old maple syrup."
196
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
" Do you think it would be very polite for you
to leave?"
"Oh, of course. Mamma and Florence and
Pauline are all there. Nobody cares whether I
go back. Do tell me what the matter is. You
always used to tell me things, Chris. You never
have been like this." Her voice, which was usu-
ally crisp and high, became softer. She spoke in
a gentle tone of sympathy. Her quick intuition
had told her that something serious was really
troubling the boy.
He glanced at her. He was very fond of Betty,
and, as she said, he always had made her his con-
fidante. To be sure, there had never before been
anything quite so important to confide, but he
knew that she could be trusted not to tell if she
promised. With all her high spirits and her heed-
lessness, Betty Hamilton always kept her promises.
Perhaps she would be able to advise him. He had
a great respect for her knowledge of the world.
"I believe I will tell you," he said, slowly.
"Good! I knew you would."
But just then Pauline came to Mrs. Martin's
front door. "Come in, Betty, and say good-bye,"
she said. "Mamma says that we are to go home
now. Come! Betty, you were awfully rude to
run out."
"Oh, bother!" exclaimed Betty. "Well, Chris,
will you wait here for me?"
197
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"No, I can't. I have got to go home. But
couldn't you come over to-morrow? Grandfather
said I was to ask anybody to come I liked."
"All right, I will, if you'll promise to tell me.
Will you?"
"Yes, and that will be better than here. I
couldn't tell you about it all here."
This was certainly mysterious, and Betty re-
turned to the party in a state of intense wonder
and curiosity. What could be the matter with
Chris? But she forgot it temporarily, for such
very strange things were taking place in the
house.
The guests were all standing, and were evi-
dently about to go. Mrs. Martin was speaking:
"Yes," she said, "I've made up my mind at
last and decided to take him. Me and Mr. Tarle-
ton are goin' to be married next week Wednes-
day. We're goin' to live over to Kingford. He's
goin' into business there. I never did care much
for Maybury Centre. Lucetta's goin' to buy my
half of this house, and Rachel Amy's goin' to live
here with her. It suits better, and she can visit
to and fro. It's goin' to be a real quiet weddin',
but when I get settled over to Kingford I shall be
at home certain days, and you can come and call
on me. I always did have a hankerin' to live
there, and it suits me real well that Mr. Tarleton
is goin' into business there."
198
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
The guests gathered about her and gave her
their congratulations; then they bade her good-
bye.
She shook hands mechanically with each in turn
as they filed past her, murmuring that they had
enjoyed the four-o'clock very much. They all
longed to get home now, that they might discuss
the affair in all its bearings. The house with the
wire netting and the divided family had been of
supreme interest in the village for a year, and this
episode but added fuel to the flame of gossip.
Mrs. Toppan walked with Mrs. Hamilton to the
point where their roads parted. The two had a
warm liking for each other.
"Well, it's wonderful how things are turning
out. I do hope life will be easier now for that
poor girl," said Mrs. Toppan. "Mr. Toppan al-
ways said words would do no good now with
Liza Martin. You can't change a woman of her
age, and there's no use trying. Only the Lord
can work miracles, and He seems to be doin' it,
but we mortals can't. Poor Rachel Amy ! She's
had a hard time of it, but a change has come at
last."
Mrs. Hamilton glanced at her three daughters,
who were walking in front, whose lot was so dif-
ferent. "She seems like such a nice girl. I am
very glad for her," she said.
"And she is a nice girl!" said Mrs. Toppan.
199
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Next to Chris, I'm more fond of Rachel Amy
than any child in Maybury Centre. Of course, no
one comes up to Chris. I'm worried about him.
He don't seem quite happy. Dear me, I thought
when he went to live at Keith Hall and had every-
thing money could do for him he'd be happy
enough, but the old gentleman isn't an easy one
to live with. Something's going wrong, Mrs.
Hamilton. Have you noticed it?"
But Mrs. Hamilton had not seen Christopher
lately, so could give no clew to the cause of the
change in the boy; and presently they reached
the fork in the roads, and Mrs. Toppan hastened
home alone.
XIII
/CHRISTOPHER, when Betty returned to
\J make the proper farewells to Mrs. Martin,
walked slowly along the street. It was a long
distance from Keith Hall to the village, and in
the heat and dust it had been more than usual-
ly fatiguing. For some undefined reason he had
not wished to ride his pony. Neither would he
ask his grandfather for the use of one of the
many carriages. It was not merely because he
did not care to have him know where he was
going; there was something deeper, more serious
than that. He would not ask a favor.
The boy had no one to speak to, no one of
whom to seek advice. There are few who can
reach a wise decision unaided when our affairs
seem complicated, few who are not helped by the
mere fact of "talking over" that which is troub-
ling us, and Christopher was still a child, and one
who needed the tender compassion of a mother,
the wise counsel of a father. He thought more
than once of going to Mr. and Mrs. Toppan, and of
laying the matter before them ; but though they
201
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
were near and dear friends, they were not his kin.
The ties of blood relationship were very strongly
developed in this boy who, until now, had been so
alone. He was too much in sympathy with his
grandfather to discuss the proud old man with
any one else. He had too much pride himself
to acknowledge to the Toppans that General
Keith had been unkind, unjust, to ask them if it
would be right for him to give up his father's
name. Betty Hamilton might be different. She
was only a child like himself. Perhaps his grand-
father would not mind so much if he only told
Betty.
He thought about this in a vague way as he
trudged along the sun-baked road. Although it
was now late in the afternoon, it was still very hot.
There was scarcely a breath of air stirring. The
bushes and grass which grew beside the road
were gray with dust and parched by lack of rain.
Some cows pastured on the other side of the stone
wall moved toward the bars, hoping, no doubt,
that he had come to lead them home. A little
garter-snake wriggled across his path, and the
faint rustling in the grass showed where it dis-
appeared. Chris paused a moment to watch its
course, but it was soon gone. Just then a car-
riage turned a bend in the road ahead and ap-
proached him. The General himself was driving
the fine bay horses, seated on the high box-seat
202
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
with the groom beside him. When he saw Chris
he reined in the bays and the man jumped down.
" I thought I should meet you," called out Gen-
eral Keith. "It is too hot for you to be walking
so far. Why didn't you ask for a horse, Chris-
topher? What do you mean by walking on a
day like this, with the stable full of horses eat-
ing their heads off and needing to be exercised?
Come, get in. Hawkins, help Mr. Christopher up.
Be careful, now."
Christopher made no audible response. Whether
he desired it or not, he allowed himself to be as-
sisted to the place beside his grandfather, and the
man climbed in behind.
"We will take a little drive now we are out,"
said the General. "Where have you been? Eh?
I can't hear you. Speak louder, my boy. Your
old grandfather is getting deaf, and you are so
far below rne in this trap."
"I have been to the village," repeated Chris-
topher, and then they both became silent. The
General intended to question him more closely
on their return, but, as he had said, conversation
was difficult from his high seat. They met Mrs.
Toppan just after she had parted from Mrs.
Hamilton. She smiled up at her favorite as she
waited beside the road to let the carriage pass.
"I'm glad to see them driving together," she
said to herself, heedless of the clouds of dust in
203
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
which she stood while she watched them drive
on. "I don't know what it is, but I've had that
feeling so strong to-day that something was wrong
with the child. Dan'el would say it was all
nonsense, and most likely it is, but I felt it all the
same. Seeing them together makes me feel bet-
ter. Dear me! I wish I could look after that
child myself! It seems as though I just didn't
have enough faith to trust him to the Lord — as
if I must put my finger in a pie which it is clear
enough the Lord doesn't intend me to have the
baking of! Well, He knows best, and I know
He knows best, but it's hard to settle down quiet-
ly to the knowledge. Marthy Toppan, you've
got a lot to learn yet! The hardest thing in the
world to agree to, though, is to wait and do
nothing."
The General and his grandson took a long drive,
and when they returned to the village they found
that the mail was in. Hawkins went into the
post-office and brought out but two letters, which
he gave to General Keith. The General thrust
them into his pocket, but as soon as he reached
home he opened and read them. They were evi-
dently of great importance, for he quite forgot to
question Christopher about the afternoon, nor
could he talk on any subject during dinner. His
mind was completely absorbed by the contents
of one of his letters. He took it out and read it
204
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
again as soon as dinner was over. Then he sat
on the porch smoking until Christopher went to
bed, not playing the violin as usual, nor speaking
to the boy. Chris kissed him good-night and
went up-stairs, and then the General walked up
and down for some time, finally going into the
library and seating himself at his desk, where he
wrote several letters, quite oblivious to time and
to anything which might be occurring within or
without the big house.
That evening at about eight o'clock George
Smith walked past the Toppan Farm and over
the road to Keith Hall. He reached the entrance
gates of the great estate a few minutes after
General Keith left the piazza and went to his
library. George did not approach the front of
the house, but went instead to the side, and stood
quietly beneath one of the windows. Presently
the mosquito frame was gently raised in this win-
dow and Christopher leaned out.
"George," he said, in a voice that was scarcely
more than a whisper, "are you there?"
"Yes," replied George, "and it's to-morrow.
Seven o'clock train. Can you get it?"
"Yes."
"Say, Chris!"
"What?"
"I think you're an awful fool. You'd better
not."
205
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Yes, I will! I'm going!"
"All right. But I think you're a fool, all the
same."
Having delivered himself of this opinion, George
walked away as quietly as he had come. At the
gate, just as he turned into the road to go back
to the village, he met Thomas, who was coming
from there himself. They bade each other good-
evening, but nothing more was said. Thomas
supposed it was some friend of one of the other
men. The moon was just rising, and it had been
too dark to distinguish clearly who it was. He
passed an hour at the stable himself, and then
returned to the house.
Christopher, who was still watching from his
window, saw Thomas come in the gate, and he
hurried back to bed. After lying there quietly
for a little while he got up and packed a few
things in a bag. The moon was up now and
shining right into his room. It was not necessary
to have any other light. There was not much to
do, and within half an hour he was in bed again,
but it was long before he fell asleep.
Dawn came very early these days, and with the
first gray streaks in the east he was awake. He
must not miss the train. He dressed himself,
thinking as he did so of a story he had read of a
boy who ran away from home, and who, in the
act of departure, carried his shoes in one hand
206
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
and his bag in the other as he crept down-stairs.
This boy had dropped his shoes with a great clat-
ter, so Christopher decided to wear his. Very
softly he left his room, closing the door as he
came out, and very softly he went down the
great staircase. It was daylight now, although
the sun was not yet up. As he passed the dining-
room door the thought of food occurred to him.
He had been awake so much that in spite of
the excitement of running away he felt hungry.
There were some crackers in a china jar on the
sideboard and some apples in a dish. He filled
his pockets with both, but he did not stop to eat
them then. Presently he had opened the side
door and was out in the garden. The early
morning air was full of the scent of the roses — his
grandfather's roses, which they both loved. He
was sorry to leave them, and somehow they
brought the thought of his grandfather very
vividly before him. He could imagine the old
man standing among them and wondering what
had become of him. He was sorry to leave —
the. roses.
He turned resolutely away from the garden
and walked out of the gate, It would not do to
loiter, or he would be seen and questioned by some
of the early risers among the men. He considered
that he had a perfect right to go if he wished, but
he knew that such a departure would arouse
14 207
MISS BETTY OF NEW. YORK
curiosity, and his grandfather would be told, and
would send to have him brought back. He
would not come, but it would complicate matters
to have some one sent for him.
The boy's serise of duty was in a curious state
of indefiniteness. He had never known of his
grandfather's existence until one year ago. For
several months he had regarded him as almost a
stranger, and then, suddenly, without an instant's
preparation, he had been taken complete posses-
sion of by General Keith. His filial affection,
which during his father's lifetime had been de-
voted naturally to him, was now to be completely
reversed, and was expected to be even more en-
tirely bestowed upon a person who, he had just
discovered, was unkind to his father — who wished
him to be unfaithful to his father's memory by
giving up his name. He was a boy of a deeply
affectionate and faithful nature. He loved his
grandfather, but it was a recent love. That
which he felt for the memory of his father was
the outcome of the tender love which had sur-
rounded his early childhood. They had been so
poor together. Love had been all they owned,
but it had made life very sweet. Christopher
vaguely resented his father's poverty and his
grandfather's wealth. All the love and devotion
that he could give now were due the memory of
his father, he thought. With this idea he forgot
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
that he owed anything to General Keith — that
though he might be right in the matter of his
name, he had no right to run away from his
home.
As he passed the Toppan Farm he almost wish-
ed that some of his friends might be at the front
of the house. He would like to say good-bye to
them and explain that he was going off to earn
his living. No one was visible, however, for Mr.
Toppan and the men were in the barn, and Mrs.
Toppan in the kitchen. Early though it was, he
knew that they were all up and at their work.
He walked on, although he was getting tired and
the station was yet a mile away. He would have
liked to rest a minute on the familiar steps of the
front porch. He would take a drink of water,
however. The old pump was close to the road,
and on the top of it was the cup which he had so
often filled and emptied. The water was deli-
ciously cool and refreshing, and his long drink
revived him. He replaced the cup on the top
of the pump, and again shouldering his bag, he
walked on. He saw no one on the road until he
turned into the main street of the village. The
postmaster was sweeping out the store, but he
had happened to pick up an undelivered letter
that was lying behind a barrel by the door just
as Chris passed. This so absorbed his attention
that he ch'd not notice the boy at all.
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
When Christopher at last reached the station
he found it locked up. His watch (the gift of his
grandfather on Christmas) told him that it was
now only a quarter past five. It would be an
hour and three-quarters before the train was due.
He curled himself up on the bench that stood on
the platform and waited as patiently as he could
for George Smith to come.
While he was waiting he had ample time for
thought. He remembered that he had asked
Betty to come to Keith Hall that morning, and
she had promised to do so. He had not expected
then to be leaving so soon, for when he saw
George yesterday they had spoken of going in
a day or two. Something must have occurred to
make him shorten his vacation. Chris had a
very vague idea of George's duties, and he sup-
posed that a "railroad man" who sold papers
had vacations as well as other professional and
business men. He was sorry to be so rude to
Betty, and no one would be able to explain it, for
no one would know what had become of him.
He intended to write to his grandfather as soon
as he should become established in business.
George was to help him to "a job." Until then
he expected to live on the money he had with
him; this amounted to about eight dollars. He
remembered that in the old days his father rarely
had that much money in his possession at once.
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
It would probably be sufficient, therefore, to pro-
vide him with food and lodging for a long time.
He looked at his watch again, and found that
fifteen minutes had crept slowly by.
He began to wish that he had said good-bye
to his grandfather. He might have written it
on a paper and slipped it underneath his bedroom
door. If he had some paper he would write some-
thing now. The station-master was good-natured
and a friend of Christopher's, and he would see
that it was sent to General Keith. Chris searched
his pockets and his bag, and finally found an old
letter in his bag which by good luck was already
addressed to his grandfather. The envelope
would do as it was, and there was a blank page
inside the sheet upon which he could write a few
words. The letter was one which General Keith
had received while they were travelling, in regard
to an old violin which he had afterward pur-
chased for his grandson. He had given the let-
ter to Chris to read, and had told him to keep it
for the present. Afterward they had looked at
and bought the violin. It made Chris feel sad
to read this letter. Who would play now with
grand? And he himself must do without music
for the present. He had not been able to bring
his own fiddle, that he had used so long, before
he knew his grandfather, for he could not carry
so much. Perhaps after awhile, when he had
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
made a fortune of his own, he could go and visit
his grandfather, who by that time would have
forgiven him for running away, and they would
resume their old habits of playing together. He
found a pencil, and wrote the following note on
the inner page:
"DEAR GRANDFATHER, — I am sorry to go without
saying good-bye to you, but I have to take the early
train, and so there was not much time to write, and I
was afraid you would stop me if I told you last night,
and I did not know till late last night, after I had gone
to bed, that I was going to-day. I think it is better for
me to earn my own living, because I don't want to give
up father's name. I know you will excuse me please,
and I thank you for being so kind to me, and I hope you
will get along all right same as you did before you
found me. Good-bye.
"Yours truly, your grandson,
"CHRISTOPHER LOVEL."
He replaced the sheet in the old envelope, which
he was able to fasten up, and waited for some one
to come to whom he could intrust it.
At last there began to be signs of life at the
station. Some "drummers" who had passed the
night at the hotel came to take the early train.
They looked curiously at the fair-haired, blue-
eyed boy on the bench, but they did not speak
to him, and he did not notice them nor another
stranger who stood near. When Sam Wilson, who
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
never allowed a train to pass the Maybury Centre
station without his superintendence, arrived upon
the scene his surprise at seeing Chris among the
waiting passengers was very audibly expressed.
"Why, what are you doin' here at this time,
Chris?" he demanded. "Goin' on a journey?"
"Yes," said Christopher.
"Grandpa goin', too?"
"Oh no!"
"Well, I want to know! Whar you goin'?"
"On a journey," said Chris, smiling up at him.
"Will you please send this letter to my grand-
father?" As he had managed to reseal it, it was
not unlike one just received and as yet unopened.
" Who'll I give it to ?" asked Wilson. " I guess
you don't bank on my walkin' up to Keith Hall
and deliverin' it to the old gentleman himself
with your compliments?"
"Oh no! Just give it to the man who drives
down for the mail this morning. I shall be very
much obliged. It's important."
"One you had in your pocket and forgot to
give him, I presume?"
Sam's interest in the letter overcame for a time
his desire to know Christopher's destination, and
then, as something occurred to attract his atten-
tion to the group of travelling men, he left the
boy, and, stuffing the letter in his pocket, walked
over to join them.
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
At last George Smith came. He greeted Chris
in his usual unenthusiastic manner, quite as
though they were in the habit of travelling to-
gether every day; and the station now being open
and the window of the ticket-office raised for busi-
ness, Chris went in to buy a ticket. He had just
accomplished this, and had returned to the plat-
form to be in readiness for the train which was
now almost due, when the Hamiltons' carriage
was driven up very hurriedly to the other side
of the station. In it were Florence, Betty, the
coachman, and two trunks. The two girls jumped
out and ran into the station. There was just time
to buy a ticket and have the trunks checked when
the train arrived.
Betty had risen early for the fun of accompany-
ing her sister to the seven-o'clock train, which
Florence was obliged to take in order to make her
connections. Full of importance at being the only
one of the family to see Florence off, Betty carried
the bag and umbrella, and devoted herself wholly
to her sister's welfare. She paid little attention
to any one else, and did not see Christopher,
who stood with George Smith at the other end of
the platform and entered the last car. The train
began to move, and Betty, vociferously calling
and waving her farewells to Florence, stood back
to watch it go by. As she did so a man brushed
against her and swung himself on to the car that
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Florence was in. She looked up expecting him
to apologize, for he had nearly knocked her down
in his haste. He turned on the step and glanced
at her, and then with an oath that was plainly
audible he disappeared within the car. But not
before Betty had recognized him. She had a keen
eye and a ready memory. She knew very well
that the man with the enormous ears and shifty
eyes, in spite of the disguise of a newly acquired
beard and mustache, was none other than the
one with whom she and Christopher had walked
in Hoboken. What could he have been doing in
May bury? And where had she recently seen
those eyes and ears? And then, just as the last
car was passing her, a window was raised and
Christopher Lovel leaned out.
"Good-bye, Betty!" he shouted. "I'm sorry
I couldn't let you know not to come. Good-bye !"
Betty was too much astonished to speak.
Where could he be going? Had General Keith
again decided to make one of his sudden jour-
neys? And had Chris seen the man? She
waved the handkerchief which had been doing
duty for Florence, and as the train, moving
now with increased speed, hastened away from
Maybury Centre, she could see something
white fluttering from a window of the last
car.
She went around the corner of the station, and
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
was just getting into the carriage when Sam
Wilson approached her.
"Say," said he, "I guess it's a little mite easier
for you to do an errand for Chris than it is for
me. He wants I should get this letter to his
grandfther. Will you give it to him?"
"Why, wasn't his grandfather with him?"
asked Betty. "Who was with him?"
"George Smith."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, young lady, I presume I know the dif-
ference between General Keith and George Smith."
"But what has he gone away with George Smith
for?"
"That's more'n I know or he'd tell, and I guess,
on the whole, as long as you're so surprised, I'll
undertake to deliver this here letter myself."
XIV
/GENERAL KEITH was not an early riser.
\Jf Neither was he a man who desired the com-
panionship of others at breakfast. On the con-
trary, it bored him even to say good-morning,
and it was a distinct relief to him to take the first
meal of the day in solitary comfort. It frequently
happened, therefore, that Christopher, who had
learned his grandfather's habits and preferences
very quickly, ate his breakfast alone at an earlier
hour. It was really about the only period of the
day when he could do precisely as he wished,
and he usually availed himself of the privilege.
So it was not in the least surprising that he did
not appear at the breakfast-table; he had prob-
ably risen early this fine summer morning, and
was now at the stable with his pony or at work
in his garden. The boy's absence did not trouble
General Keith in the least. He put on his old
straw hat, and went out to examine the rose-
bushes. A new species of bug was giving him
trouble this year, and he entered into a long con-
sultation with the head gardener. That over,
217
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
the coachman wished to speak to him about one
of the horses which had mysteriously gone lame,
and which required immediate attention from a
more skilful practitioner than the local "vet."
It was ten o'clock before General Keith had time
to wonder where Christopher could be. He was
sitting on the piazza awaiting the bringing of the
morning mail by the man who every day drove
to the village to get it, when it occurred to him
that he had not yet seen his grandson. He was
just about to send for Thomas to ask where he
was when that faithful attendant appeared from
within the house.
"Where is Mr. Christopher?" asked the General,
quite as if Thomas had him hidden in his pocket
ready to be produced on demand. "I wish to
speak to him immediately."
"I don't know where he is, General. I haven't
seen Mr. Christopher to-day."
"Well, I suppose some one has seen him. At
any rate, you can find him. Tell him we will have
some music — to come at once."
"Beg pardon, sir, but I can't find him. He
ain't nowhere, sir."
"What nonsense is this, Thomas? Do you
mean to tell me that the boy is hiding? What
do you mean? Eh?"
It was evident that the General was fast los-
ing his easily lost temper. Thomas trembled, but
218
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
stood his ground. The boy could not be found,
and that there would be an exciting scene with
his master he well knew.
"Well, sir, I means just this: he ain't nowhere
on the place, Mr. Christopher ain't. He ain't
been seen by nobody to-day, and, what's more,
he ain't had no breakfast."
"How long have you known this ? Why wasn't
I told at once?" The General's voice was omi-
nously calm.
"I've come to tell you, sir, as soon as ever I
knowed it. I thought Mr. Chris had had his
breakfast early and gone off to play or something,
same as he always does, but I kinder got uneasy,
and a little while ago I went all round looking
and couldn't find him nowhere. Then I asked
Mrs. Adams, and she hadn't laid eyes on him,
and neither had any of the maids, nor anybody
else. It might be, sir, if I may make so bold as
to suggest it, that he's gone over through the
woods to Mr. Hamilton's place."
"Send a man over there at once to find out.
The boy ought not to go without asking my per-
mission; but — but — Well, very probably he is
there. Another time don't be so slow about find-
ing out his absence, Thomas. This must not
occur again. You understand me? It is your
business to know where Mr. Christopher is at any
moment I may choose to ask."
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MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Yes, sir. Very good, sir."
Thomas retired, feeling rather relieved at being
dismissed from the presence in so mild a manner.
Tn a short time a groom drove away in the run-
about, with instructions to go to Mr. Hamilton's
and bring Christopher home.
The carriage had scarcely disappeared over the
road when Betty Hamilton, followed by Brownie,
approached the house by the path which led from
Pringle Farm to Keith Hall through the woods.
She had been walking rapidly, and her cheeks
were flushed with the heat and her curly hair lay
in damp masses about her face. It was another
hot day, and she had hurried. She went straight
to the front piazza, where she found her friend,
the General, as she expected. They had been on
terms of cordiality all summer, which had been
disturbed only temporarily by the visit to the
circus, and Betty was one of the small number of
persons who were not afraid of him.
"Good-morning, General Keith," said she.
"Good-morning, Miss Betty. So you have
brought home that young scamp. Did he send
you ahead to make his excuses? I suppose he
has been breakfasting with you."
"If you mean Chris, he hasn't been breakfast-
ing with us at all."
"He hasn't! Well, he doesn't deserve any
breakfast. But I don't like his taking such a
220
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
long walk over and back without food. I have
sent a man over to your place to bring him back,
and now he has missed him. As long as he went
he ought to have stayed longer. Why doesn't he
come forward like a man? Has he sent you to
get his scolding?"
"Chris isn't here, General Keith. I came to
ask you where he had gone. He didn't tell me, he
just shouted out good-bye as the train was mov-
ing. I thought, of course, you were with him till
Sam Wilson told me you weren't."
"What do you mean?" demanded General
Keith. He sat forward, his eyes fixed eagerly
upon Betty, his hands trembling as he grasped
the arms of his chair to steady them. "The
train moving — what train?"
"Why, the seven o'clock. I went to see Flor-
ence off, and we were so late we didn't get there
till the train was almost there ; and after she got
on and it was going I saw Chris."
"You have made a mistake, Miss Betty — a
very great mistake. My grandson was not on
the train which left Maybury at seven o'clock
this morning. Impossible! Preposterous! Per-
fectly preposterous!"
"Oh, but he was, General Keith! I should
think I knew Chris ! He saw me before I saw him,
and he opened the window and called out good-
bye and he was sorry to go without seeing me,
221
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
or something like that. You know I was coming
over here this morning to play with him, and he
hadn't let me know not to come. I thought you
were with him, but they told me afterward you
weren't."
"But — but — where has he — where has he
gone?" The General's voice shook. He could
scarcely control it.
"I don't know. That's just what I came over
to find out."
"Was he alone?"
"No," said Betty, slowly, "I don't think he
was alone."
"Whom was he with? Speak! Don't keep
me waiting like this!"
But still Betty hesitated. She did not want
to tell General Keith that Chris had gone away
with George Smith. George had formerly borne
a bad name in the village. To be sure, that was
now a thing of the past, and George had been
found to be of respectable family, and at present,
according to Christopher and his sister Lucy, was
making a fortune; but she remembered the prej-
udice.
"What do you mean by not answering me, Miss
Betty? I insist upon your telling me at once."
"I didn't see who it was," said she, at last.
"I didn't see anybody with Chris. I thought
you were with him."
222
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"But why has he gone?" asked the General,
forgetting for the moment the identity of his
mysterious companion. "And where? Can he
have gone to South Maybury? Why didn't he
take a horse if he wanted to go to South May-
bury? Ah, who is this coming? Oh, it is only
Hawkins with the mail, and some one he has
picked up."
"It is Sam Wilson," said Betty, watching the
approaching carriage. "Sam Wilson can tell you
whom Chris was with. He was at the station,
too."
The carriage drove up to the steps and Sam
Wilson clambered down. The coachman was
about to drive around to the back door, where
he would deliver the mail to Thomas, who would
in turn bring it to his master, when General Keith
ordered him to wait. He had recovered his self-
possession, and there was no sign of weakness
now, as he stood on the upper step and awaited
what news the stranger might give him.
"I understand, sir, from this young lady, that
you saw my grandson leave Maybury this morn-
ing. He omitted to tell me that he was taking
a journey. Will you have the goodness to tell
me with whom he went?"
All the village stood in awe of General Keith.
He was their one "great man," and was respected
accordingly. Sam Wilson, describing the inter-
is 223
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
view later to his intimates, declared that he "was
floored, clean floored," whatever that might mean.
As he had come expressly to impart the informa-
tion for which he had just been asked, his em-
barrassment was somewhat unreasonable. He
hesitated, cleared his throat twice, and remained
speechless.
"Oh, do hurry up, Mr. Wilson," said Betty,
impatiently. "Don't you see we've got to find
out quickly about Chris? Where is the letter he
gave you?"
"A letter!" exclaimed General Keith. "Do
you mean to say you have a letter for me which
he gave you? The train, I understand, left May-
bury Centre at seven o'clock. It is now" — he
opened and closed his watch — "twenty-seven
minutes past ten. Will you have the goodness to
give me that letter? WTiat excuse can you pos-
sibly have for not delivering it earlier?"
"See here, General," drawled Sam Wilson,
stung into finding his voice at last, "I ain't no
letter-carrier, nor I ain't no errand-boy. I d'
know as I hev any call to tramp out here from
the village just because a boy of twelve years old
chooses to give me a letter addressed to you."
"No, I suppose not, I suppose not," said the
General, recollecting his old grudge against the
slowness of the Northern rustic. "But as you are
now here, kindly give me the letter."
224
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Sam felt in his pockets and finally produced
it. The General looked at it in some surprise and
with visible disappointment. This was not Chris-
topher's handwriting. He opened it and found
it was the old letter about the violin. He tossed
it on the ground with a gesture of impatience.
The three persons who were curiously watching
him were astonished.
" I don't know what the boy means by sending
that to me," said he. "Did he give you no
message?"
"Not a word."
"And whom was he with?"
"Well," said Sam Wilson, drawling more slow-
ly and more aggravatingly than ever, "he was
with a feller that I ain't never cottoned to. Not
but what he mightn't be all right; I don't say
he ain't. But he's a feller that ain't had many
friends up this way, and he ain't likely to unless
he gets a tiny mite more what you might call
affable. I don't say he ain't honest; I don't
say he ain't what you might call straight. But he
ain't never been a favorite of mine — no, nor of
anybody else's, so far as I can make out. He — "
"Will you have the goodness to tell me,"
broke in the General — and never had his voice
been more chilling and distinct — "the name of
this person?"
Sam Wilson again became silent. The icy
225
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
voice of the great man froze the speech on his
own lips.
"Oh, goody!" exclaimed Betty, "I'll tell you,
General Keith. It was George Smith. Don't
you know? — Miss Lucetta Smith's nephew. She
lives in the house with the wire netting, only
they've taken it down now."
"George Smith !" repeated the General. "Where
have I heard the name of George Smith? Did
Christopher know him?"
"Oh yes. He is a newsboy on the trains from
Boston. Chris knows him quite well. He met
him the day you came up. He told me about it."
" So he did. He met him the day we came up."
The old man repeated the words vaguely. Then
he recollected himself. "Thank you, Miss Betty.
And I am also much obliged to you, sir. Haw-
kins, drive this gentleman back to the village —
at once, if you please."
And before the deliberate Sam realized what
was happening he was again in the carriage, and
was being rapidly taken home without having
discovered half the information he had hoped for;
but he had enough as it was to arrest the atten-
tion of his intimates, who were awaiting him on
the porch in front of the store, and before long
the departure of Chris was known to most of
the residents of Maybury Centre.
Betty and the General, left alone together on
226
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
the steps of the piazza, for a moment did not
speak. Then the old man turned slowly and
looked down at the little girl.
"Miss Betty/' said he, "I beg you to speak to
me with perfect candor. You are my grandson's
friend. Perhaps, and very probably, you enjoy
more of his confidence than I do. Have you any
idea of where he has gone?"
"I haven't the least idea, General Keith," said
Betty, eagerly. "I never supposed he would do
that."
Her intonation, the emphasis she laid on the
word "that," something in her face, caused him
to look at her more closely. "Did you have
reason to suppose he would do anything? Come,
have the goodness to tell me what you do know!"
"Why, I don't really know anything, General
Keith, except, of course, we've all noticed some-
thing has been the matter with Chris lately. He
hasn't been half so — well, so jolly as he used to
be. You know he always was so sort of happy.
He's been quiet, and kind of worried."
' ' And why has he been worried ? What earthly
reason could my grandson have for being worried,
I should like to know?" The General was now
walking up and down the piazza.
"I suppose — " began Betty, and then she was
silent.
"Well, well, you suppose what?"
227
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"I'm afraid you — you would rather I didn't
say."
"What nonsense! Say anything if it will give
me the slightest clew to the boy's extraordinary
action. Not but what I expect him back by the
next train. I do not for a moment imagine that
he has gone with any intention of staying over-
night. But what do you think he has been anx-
ious about?"
"Well," said Betty, "it was that day when he
was over at our house, the day we went to the
circus afterward. We were playing Indians and
were hiding, and no one knew we were there, and
we heard Florence and one of her friends talking,
and — and — he didn't like what was said about
you and his father and mother. That was the
reason we went over to South Maybury. He
wanted to go off somewhere."
The General came and stood beside her.
"What was said?" His voice was very quiet.
Betty suddenly felt like crying. What could
she say? How could she explain the conversa-
tion they had overheard? Why did General
Keith look so still ? Instinctively she thrust her
hand into his, she felt so very sorry.
"Will you please tell me? Tell me just what
the boy heard."
"They told about his father and mother being
so poor, and that you hadn't tried to find him
228
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
until it was too late to help them. Of course, it
may not have been true. Chris seemed to feel
very badly about it. His face got all white and
queer, and he wouldn't play any more. We went
to South Maybury, and he seemed to forget it
for a little while, but he's never been the same
since. He has been sort of — sort of queer. I
told him not to mind so much."
"Ah!" said the General. Then, after a mo-
ment: "Thank you, Miss Betty. That, and the
name, I suppose — that, and the name." He
began again to walk up and down. "But with-
out a word to me! To go off even for the day
without saying good-bye!"
"Didn't he say good-bye in that letter?" asked
Betty, her glance falling on the sheet which, with
its envelope, lay upon the grass where it had flut-
tered in the soft summer breeze.
"Not a word of it. It is a letter written by
some one else — an old letter. I can't imagine what
he meant by sending that man up here with it."
"May I look at it?"
"Of course. It is only about a violin."
Betty procured the letter, and read the first
page carefully. Then she turned it and gave a
sudden exclamation. "Here is something from
Chris, General Keith! He has written on the
inside!"
The General seized the paper and scanned it
229
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
closely. Then he gave it back to her. "Read it
to me," he said. "I can't see — something wrong
with my glasses — read it to me."
Betty read the note slowly and distinctly. Not
a word was said by either when she finished. She
glanced timidly at General Keith. Even Betty
felt a new timidity. She had never before been
in the presence of acute mental suffering. It
was several minutes before either spoke. At last
the General turned toward the house.
"I must go to get him/' he said, slowly. "I
must go after my little boy. Thank you, Miss
Betty — I thank you very much."
He was about to enter the house when Betty
remembered one very important fact which she
had not yet communicated to him — at least, her
mother thought it was important, and had been
very much disturbed when she heard it.
"Wait a minute, General Keith," said Betty.
"That man was on the same train with Chris."
"What man?"
"The one who tried to run away with us in
Hoboken. That man, don't you know, who came
up to us in the Jersey City station!"
"He was on the train this morning!" The
General turned and came back to her. He was
as much impressed by her announcement as her
mother had been. "Was Christopher with him ?"
"Oh no! He went into another car. He may
230
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
not even have seen Chris. I shouldn't have seen
him if he hadn't almost knocked me down hurry-
ing to get on. I think he must have been late
getting there, he was in such a terrible hurry. He
was mad because I was in his way, and I was
mad, too. He must be a very bad person, for he
said an awful swear word."
"Do you think he recognized you?"
"Oh yes, indeed he did! That's the reason
he was so furious. And I knew him right away,
though he looks different. He has a beard now —
a sort of a false-looking, dark beard. And I think
he's the same man we saw at the circus, only he
had a lot of yellow hair then. He was doing
tricks."
"Even if he did not see Christopher before he
got on the train he will certainly find him there
before they go far. I feel very much disturbed
by what you have told me, Miss Betty. I can-
not help connecting my boy's departure in some
way with this man. It is extraordinary that he
should have been in Maybury. Why should he
come to this out-of-the-way spot unless for some
mischief? You say you saw him at the circus?"
"Yes; only I wasn't sure of it then, but I am
now. I knew he was the ' Fascinating Fernando,'
but Chris didn't notice that he looked like the
Hoboken man."
"Do you think he remembered you?"
231
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"I don't know. He disappeared behind the
curtain just as I was watching his face."
Unconsciously the General was consulting with
Betty quite as if she were a grown woman. She
was not unaware of his attitude, and was much
pleased. It always delighted Betty to be treated
in this manner. She only wished that Charles
and Pauline were there to hear him. They would
never believe it unless they heard it themselves.
It seemed a direct answer to her wish, therefore,
when at that very moment Charles himself drove
up the avenue. In the carriage were her mother
and Pauline.
"I could not help coming over to see you,
General Keith," said Mrs. Hamilton, as they drew
up at the steps, "I feel so anxious about that
man having been in Maybury. Betty has told
you, I suppose. No, I will not get out, thank
you. I came to see if — " She paused, not know-
ing exactly what to say. She as yet knew only
the bare fact of Christopher having left home
with George Smith, on the same train with a
man who had already tried before this to abduct
him. She did not know whether or not his grand-
father had been aware of the boy's intended jour-
ney, but she thought it was highly probable that
he had not.
The General finished her sentence for her. "If
I knew about Christopher — where Christopher
232
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
has gone? No, Mrs. Hamilton, I do not. At
first I was inclined to believe that he had gone to
South Maybury or somewhere equally near, but
now I do not. I shall go after him at once. I
only wish I had some means of identifying that
scoundrel. I may pass him twenty times in my
search without knowing it."
Betty made a step forward. "Oh!" she ex-
claimed, impulsively, and looked from the Gen-
eral to her mother, and then at the General again.
"Couldn't I — oh, mamma, do you suppose I
could? General Keith, couldn't you take me
with you? I could help you find him. I should
know him right away, just as I did this morning."
"You! Oh, my dear child, I couldn't let you!"
cried Mrs. Hamilton.
"Betty!" exclaimed Charles and Pauline tx>
gether.
But the General did not join in the chorus of
disapproval. On the contrary, his face brightened.
"Is it quite out of the question, Mrs. Hamil-
ton?" he asked. "I should take very good care
of her, and I should like to have her with mev
She would be in no danger. Thomas will be with
me and will look after her, and you can send a
maid. I believe if we want to secure that man
it is the only thing we can do to identify him —
and — Mrs. Hamilton, even now he may have
succeeded in getting possession of Christopher.
233
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
I beg you to allow me the privilege of Miss Betty's
company. I will take very good care of her."
For a moment there was silence, broken only
by a little song-sparrow, which was perched on
a bush near the porch, and the impatient stamp-
ing of the horse on the gravel driveway. Betty
gazed imploringly at her mother.
"Do let me, mamma!" she said, at last. "It
seems as if we ought to help all we can."
"I cannot say yes without consulting her
father," said Mrs. Hamilton, at last. "If you
will wait long enough for me to send a telegram
and get a reply, I will agree to do as he says."
"I shall be deeply grateful to you, and will
willingly wait. It will not be necessary to leave
within less than two hours, at any rate," said the
General, looking at his watch. "There is nothing
more from here until five o'clock this afternoon;
but there is a train that passes Kingford at two
o'clock, due in Boston at a quarter of four. We
are too late now to catch the twelve-fifteen at
Kingford. That gets in at one-fifty-five, but we
are twenty miles away, and we can't do it in
an hour. It is a quarter of eleven now. In the
mean-time I will send Thomas to the hotel to see
if any suspicious character has been staying there.
Mrs. Hamilton, if you will lend me Miss Betty for
this journey, you will have my undying gratitude
and friendship. It may come to nothing. I may
234
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
have lost him again, but you will have helped
me."
He turned away, unable to command his voice,
and, signing to Betty to get into the carriage,
Mrs. Hamilton told Charles to drive quickly to
the village that she migau telegraph to his father.
IT is probable that Christopher Lovel would
never have carried out his half-formed inten-
tion of leaving his grandfather's home had not
George Smith visited Maybury Centre at just that
time. The boy's whole mind and nature were in
a state of indecision and unrest, for in addition to
the sense of injury which he felt in regard to his
father, he had begun to resent, although uncon-
sciously, the lack of independent action which
General Keith insisted upon. He was still very
childish in many ways, but he was growing older.
He wished to be older; he felt an intense desire
to assert himself, to act like a man. There seem-
ed to be no surer way of accomplishing this than
to run away and earn his own living. It is prob-
able that all boys feel this longing for freedom
at times; it is part of their development. In
Christopher's case there was much to foster the
feeling, little to restrain it.
And just at this critical moment George Smith
appeared in Maybury — George Smith, who repre-
sented to Christopher the personification of suc-
236
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
cess in the matter of earning one's living at an
early age. It seemed most opportune. Chris had
seen George in the village on the day of his return
to Maybury. He had questioned him closely, and
finally had said that he wished to try the same
line of work himself. Could George help him to
get a place? George had been rather discourag-
ing at first. He had advised him to stay where
he was, and had told him that he would "take
no hand" in helping him to leave his home. The
two boys were in front of the Maybury House,
the one hotel of the village, when they had this
conversation. Chris was on his pony, and Ben,
the groom, had taken the opportunity to seek an
acquaintance in the hotel while his young master
talked with his friend. When Ben came out he
was accompanied by a man who had arrived at
the hotel the night before, and who was already
popular there. The stranger, who had entered his
name as W. Banks, of New York, was apparent-
ly an old friend of Ben's. As they stood together
on the steps of the hotel Mr. Banks casually asked
the name of the "young fellow" who was talking
to "young Lovel," and Ben was able to give him
the necessary information with much in addition.
Mr. Banks watched Christopher and the groom
ride away, and then he sauntered up the road in
the direction in which George had gone. A few
minutes later, as George seemed to be walking
237
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
slowly, he quickened his pace until he had over-
taken the boy and greeted him cordially. He
asked him a civil question or two about the
country, and in a very short time had renewed
the acquaintance formed at the circus and which
bade fair to become intimate. George had few
friends in Maybury, but he was not by nature
unsociable. If any one showed a desire to be
friendly he was ready to respond, but he was
equally quick to resent a fancied slight. The
result of their walk together was that Mr. Banks
soon learned all that there was to be known about
Christopher's wish to leave home and make his
fortune, and George's own prospects of the same
happy result for himself if he could find the right
thing. Was there any chance for him in circus
work?
Mr. Banks was apparently of a most optimistic
turn of mind. He declared that selling books and
papers on the train was a profession that held
promise of most desirable results. He himself
was deeply interested in "young fellows," and
his business now was such that he employed a
number. He did not go into particulars as to
the nature of his business. He had left the circus
himself for something else, and he was at that
moment looking out for a boy to do office work.
The salary was not much at first, but faithful
attention was sure to be rewarded. He had liked
238
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
the looks of young Lovel, and if George chose to
do so he could bring him to Boston, and Mr.
Banks would interview him there and explain
what he needed.
"Better not say anything to him now. If he
feels that he'd like train work it might upset him
to think about office work till he got there. Just
tell him you have a friend who can help him to
a place. You needn't mention my name — it's
Banks, by-the-way — and if you should see me on
the train you needn't say you know me. Kids —
little ones — is queer cattle, and he'll be kind of
upset, anyway, running away from home. I'll
make it all smooth for you if he's the boy I want
for my work, as I think he is. You'll get ten per
cent, of the deal."
George did not clearly understand this offer,
but hesitated to acknowledge an ignorance of
which he felt somewhat ashamed. It was evi-
dently an affair of business, a common trans-
action with which he was expected to be familiar.
He certainly would ask no questions that might
expose him to ridicule. He was in great fear of
ridicule. He agreed, therefore, to everything that
was suggested, and when he saw Christopher that
afternoon he told him that if he really wished
to go, he, George, could help him to "a job."
Mr. Banks informed George that same evening
that it would be to the advantage of all parties
I6 239
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
if they left Maybury the following morning, so
George walked up to Keith Hall and told Chris-
topher, with the result that we have seen. The
three left Maybury on the same train, but without
the slightest sign of recognition having been ex-
changed by Mr. Banks and George. It was a
distinct shock to Mr. Banks when he encountered
the keen eyes of Miss Betty Hamilton, of New
York. He saw at once that she remembered him,
and he congratulated himself more than once
during the journey to Boston that she had not
discovered him sooner. It convinced him that
he would better accomplish his scheme of abduct-
ing Christopher if he kept entirely out of his way
for the present. Once get the boy to a large
city, and he could easily manage it without danger
of discovery. And then it would be a simple
matter to make known to the rich old General
that a large sum of money would restore to him
his grandson. Mr. W. Banks had long cherished
this ambition. When he was thwarted in its ac-
complishment in Hoboken he had by no means
acknowledged himself beaten. On the contrary,
he became more than ever determined to carry it
to a successful finish. He considered it not only
an easy but an interesting method of fortune-
making — far more attractive than the profes-
sion of "clerking" or "counter-jumping" or other
humdrum but honest means of livelihood, or the
240
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
more exciting profession of wriggling out of ropes
at a circus, and more sure of good results than
counterfeiting and safe-smashing, which he had
also tried.
"The old man will give at least a million to get
the kid back," he said to himself, "and it will be
to his interest to keep it dark. I'm a made man
this time. It's wonderful how things have just
worked right. Smith's an easy one. Everything
going as slick and smooth as silk."
But once more Mr. Banks had reckoned without
Miss Betty of New York.
Christopher and George Smith, seated together
in the rear car of a train that consisted at present
of only two passenger coaches and one combina-
tion smoking and baggage car, had little to say
to each other until some miles of their journey
had been travelled. George was not a very
talkative person at any time, and Chris, this morn-
ing, had so much to occupy his mind that he, too,
was very silent. As the train began to move, as
it left the familiar Maybury Centre station, and
approaching the lake with a shrill shriek for the
grade crossing that was to be passed, with rapidly
increasing speed rumbled over the trestle and flew
along the embankment where Chris and Betty
and Lucy Smith had met with an exciting advent-
ure last summer — as he felt himself being carried
away from the well-known neighborhood that was
241
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
now his home, out into the big world again, where
he had already suffered more pain and hardship
than usually come to a boy of his age and station
in life, Chris felt a sudden and overwhelming de-
pression. What had he done? Where was he
going? And should he ever see his grandfather
again — his grandfather, whom he truly loved, in
spite of the sense of injury and resentment which
had so absorbed his mind during the last few
weeks?
Christopher's eyes were full of tears. He longed
to get out of the train and go home again. If it
would only stop! Instead it rushed faster and
faster through miles of woodland. The thick
masses of trees but added to his bewilderment and
regret. He stared at them through the blinding
tears. He wondered if George would notice if
he got out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes. He
did not wish George to see that he was crying.
It was so like a baby to cry, and he intended to
be quite grown up now. He must be, if he was
to earn his living like a man. He wondered if
George ever cried, and then he remembered how
he and Betty had met George in the road after
Mrs. Smith, his mother died, and he had cried.
Leaving home was almost as bad as having some-
body die, Chris thought. If his grandfather were
to die before he went back? Went back! He was
not going back — at least, not for a very long time.
242
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
He resolutely fought down the tears, and after
awhile he had succeeded sufficiently for him to turn
to George and ask him some questions about the
means that he should take to get a position.
George answered, evasively. He thought it was
about time for Christopher to meet his future
employer, but he could not suggest this until he
had consulted Mr. Banks. George felt a deep
respect for Mr. Banks, and dared not act without
his approval. He made some excuse to Chris-
topher— told him he was going forward for a
smoke, and left him to stay where he was.
"You're not used to going through the train
like I am," said he. "We're making time now.
You'd better keep where you are, with your lame
leg."
"But if I go into the newspaper and book busi-
ness, like you, on trains, I'll have to go through
them when they're going fast," said Chris.
"Wouldn't it be a good idea for me to get used to
it and go along with you now?"
" No," said George, decidedly; "you stay where
you're put. I ain't going to have no accident on
my hands. And maybe you won't do no railroad
work. I've heard of something else." And then,
fearful that he might be led into imparting more
definite information, George hastened "forward,"
to enjoy the pleasures of a smoke in the society of
that fascinating man of the world, Mr. W. Banks.
243
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
That gentleman was not yet ready, apparently,
to make the acquaintance of his future office boy.
"Time enough, time enough!" said he, easily.
"Kids — little ones — is queer cattle. You take
him along with you, and you keep him till I give
you the tip. Then you can bring him to my
place — to-morrow or next day, it '11 be — and we'll
fix up everything. Suppose we say to-morrow
morning at about ten o'clock."
"But I've got to get to work," objected George.
"I've got to find a job, and I guess as long as I've
come back I'll tiy for it right off or I won't find
anything. What's the matter with bringin' Chris
to your place this afternoon?"
"All right," said Mr. Banks, with his usual
affability. It was just what he had planned, but
he considered it advisable to let George suggest
these things. He had already calculated the
length of time that must elapse before General
Keith should start in pursuit. .From his friend
Ben he had learned the breakfast-hour and the
daily customs at Keith Hall, and had reasoned
that the General could not take the nine o'clock
train. He would certainly reach Boston that
evening, however, and Banks knew that it would
be well to have Christopher in his own keeping
before the boy's grandfather could interview
Smith. It would be easy enough to leave town
with him before the search began.
244
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
So it was arranged that Smith should bring
Christopher to a certain address in Boston at
three o'clock that afternoon, and that until that
time the boy should remain in ignorance of even
the existence of Mr. Banks. This settled, George
returned to his seat beside Christopher, and Mr.
Banks was left to his own reflections.
If any one had happened to be watching him,
that person would have quickly reached the con-
clusion that his reflections were not altogether
satisfactory. A sudden thought seemed to come
to him that was disturbing. After a little while
he drew a package of time-tables from his pocket
and began to study them. Then he put them
away again and gazed out of the window. At
last he seemed to reach a decision. He drew his
hat well down over his eyes — it was a soft felt
hat, and lent itself easily to a variety of shapes,
and with the brim turned down it hid completely
the upper part of his face. This done, he rose and
walked through the train to the last car. He
passed through it without appearing to notice
any of the passengers. He went to the door, and
stood looking out at the track as the train sped
on its way. They would soon reach the junction
where additional cars would be taken on. After
a few minutes he turned and walked slowly back.
As he passed the seat occupied by George and
Christopher he put out his hand as if to steady
245
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
himself. In doing so he pressed George's shoulder
steadily and significantly. Then he walked on
and through to the next car. In a few minutes
George followed him.
"You're a bright one," said Banks. He had
already discovered that George was susceptible to
flattery. "I just thought I'd try you and see if
you'd ketch on. Not every feller would have
kept as quiet as you did and then follow to see
what was wanted. I tell you now, I'll remem-
ber this, and if you don't find a job on the rail-
road— which is what you want and what you're
cut out for if ever a feller was — you just come to
me and I'll fix you. You're just the sort of feller
I'm always looking out for."
"I thought p'r'aps you wanted to say some-
thing," said George, much pleased with this praise.
"Well, as long as you're here, I'll say it, but it
wasn't so very important. What I did want was
to see if you'd ketch on, and I can say you caught
— yes, you caught. I'm thinking it would be a
little mite easier for us all if we was to meet in
the North Station this afternoon instead of your
coming way to my place. What's the use of
taking your time to come? You're a busy man,
just as I am. You bring the kid to the station,
or you tell him to come and you'll meet him
there. Then you can introduce him to me, and
I'll tell him what I've got for him to do."
246
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"What's the matter with introducing him
now?" asked George. He could not quite un-
derstand the necessity for all these elaborate
proceedings. It would seem so simple a matter
to make all the necessary arrangements on the
train.
"Because I find I've got to change at the
junction," replied Banks, who had prepared him-
self for just this question. "I've got business on
the other branch, and I won't reach Boston as
early as you do. I've got to stop over, and then
I'll take the next train. You have the boy at
the North Station at 2 P.M. You have him stand-
ing by the information office, right there in the
big waiting-room. You know it. If you can't
be there yourself — I know you're a busy man —
you just leave him, or tell him to go there and
wait. I'll tell him about his job, and then I'll
take him to my place, and he can see how he
likes it. Where's the kid going to live, anyhow?"
"He's going shares in my room." George
mentioned his address.
"Well, that won't be very convenient, but he
may as well begin there and I can fix him later.
I have a sort of an idea I'm going to like that
kid — take a fancy to him, same as I have to you.
That's my way. I take a fancy, and there ain't
anything I don't feel like doing for a young feller.
Help 'em right along. Well, here's the junction.
247
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
You go back and tell little Lovel all about it,
and you have him standing by the informa-
tion office in the waiting-room at two o'clock
sharp."
So George returned to Christopher much pleased
to be allowed at last to impart the plans which his
kind friend had made for the boy's welfare, and
Christopher listened eagerly and agreed to do
just as he was directed. And Mr. Banks, much
pleased himself with his own cleverness, left the
May bury train at the junction, and after waiting
there fifteen minutes, took another train which
would get him to Boston half an hour later than
the one he left. He would have plenty of time
to make all the necessary arrangements for the
hiding of Christopher in Boston, or for carrying
him to some other place if that seemed more
advisable after consultation with a trusted col-
league. His study of the tune-tables had proved
to him that General Keith, even if he started at
once in pursuit of his grandson, could not reach
Boston until three o'clock. Banks knew all about
the two-o'clock train on the other road which the
General would probably try to make. He flat-
tered himself that he had allowed for every con-
tingency. But there was one thing which he had
forgotten, one possibility which he had omitted
to take into consideration, and that was that
sometimes the unforeseen happens. And the un-
248
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
foreseen was at that moment "happening" in
Maybury Centre.
The Hamiltons had just reached home, a reply
from Mr. Hamilton had been received, and prep-
arations were being hurriedly made for Betty
and Gertrude to take a journey, when the "honk-
honk" of an automobile was heard, and up the
steep driveway which led to the old farm-house
puffed a big touring-car. There was no one on
the piazza when it approached, but the unwonted
sounds brought Betty to the window. With a
shout of delight she rushed through the house.
"Mamma! Mamma! Aunt Edith and Uncle
Lu have come! They're in the motor at the
door! Hurrah! Hurrah! Three cheers!"
" I never was so thankful in my life to see you!"
cried Mrs. Hamilton, who reached the door almost
as soon as Betty did, and was closely followed by
Pauline, while Charles came dashing around the
side of the house. "Really your coming now
seems providential. We didn't expect you for
two weeks."
"We changed our plans very unexpectedly,"
said Mrs. Lewis, unwinding her veils and proceed-
ing to kiss her assembled relatives. "We thought
we would come here at the beginning instead of
the end of this part of our trip, and it would be
fun to take you by surprise. If you haven't room
249
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
for us now we can go to Keith Hall. The General
will probably take us in."
"Oh, my dear! The poor General — but do
come sit down. Ludovic, I am so thankful to
see you! We need your advice and help. Char-
lie isn't here, and such a strange thing has hap-
pened."
"Chris has gone off, Uncle Lu," put in Betty.
"Gone off? When? What do you mean?"
Mr. Lewis, who had been deep in the mysteries
of the interior of his automobile, straightened
himself, and looked from one to the other.
They told him, all speaking at once and inter-
rupting one another, after the manner of a family
in which something quite unusual has occurred,
but he finally understood what had happened.
"And I am going with General Keith to find
him, because I know the man by sight," said
Betty. "Gertrude and I. Gertrude is going be-
cause we may be gone for some time, and mamma
won't let me go without her, but I could get along
very well. We are going to drive over to King-
ford to take a train. General Keith is going to
send for us, but we have to take a slow train in-
stead of a fast one because Kingford is twenty
miles away from Keith Hall, and we can't get
there in time. Oh, Uncle Lu, I've just thought
of a scheme ! Why don't you take us over in the
motor? We could get that fast train if you did."
250
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"What time does it leave Kingford?" asked
Mr. Lewis, looking at his watch, and then hurriedly
resuming his examination of his car.
"Twelve-fifteen."
"And it is now half-past eleven. We'll do it.
Quick, Betty!"
Betty was seated in the car with a jacket over
her arm, her bag at her feet, and a big veil, which
her aunt Edith had just taken off, tied over her
head, in almost less time than it takes to tell it;
but Gertrude was not so swift in her movements.
She was very much averse to taking this unex-
pected journey, at any rate, and the thought of
being whirled away in an automobile to cover
more than twenty miles in half an hour was more
than she could endure. She expostulated, pro-
tested, and lost much valuable time.
"Oh, let Betty go without Gertrude," suggested
Mr. Lewis. "Very likely we shall be back to-
night. I will look after her, and we can engage
a maid at any hotel we may stop at. I shall go
with them to Boston, Edith."
" Of course," said Mrs. Lewis. "Really, Bessie,
it is all right to let Betty go without Gertrude."
"Very well," said Mrs. Hamilton, "if Ludovic
is going."
And then, with hasty farewells, away they went,
down the hill and off over the country road, leav-
ing behind them dense clouds of dust, and terrify-
251
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
ing all the old farm horses they chanced to meet.
They turned in at the gates of Keith Hall just
as the General's carriage, with a pair of his fastest
horses, came out of the stable. It did not take
long to explain the new situation. General Keith
and Thomas stepped into the motor-car, and it
dashed away. The road from Maybury to King-
ford was a good one for that mountainous region,
and if all went well they would arrive in Kingford
in plenty of time to put the car up at a garage
and take the twelve-fifteen train for Boston.
"I have always disliked these obnoxious ma-
chines," said General Keith, leaning forward and
raising his voice; "as you know, I have felt very
strongly that they were the most dangerous, the
most objectionable form which human invention
has yet assumed; but I begin to think they have
their uses, after all."
Ludovic Lewis did not reply beyond a nod of
his head, but Betty, who was sitting beside him,
looked up in tune to see a smile of satisfaction
spread over his handsome face.
"That's one for you, Uncle Lu," she said.
She and her uncle were now the best of friends,
although this had not always been the case, and
she was delighted that he was to be one of the
party to rescue Chris. It was all very exciting,
and Betty was immensely pleased with the way
things were turning out. A railroad journey,
252
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
an automobile ride at high speed, and jolly Uncle
Ludovic instead of strict Gertrude! It was all
very fine for Miss Betty. She felt no anxiety
about Christopher, being confident that she and
her uncle together would be more than a match
for the "Fascinating Feinando."
XVI
ALL went well. There were no punctured
jL\. tires, no breakdowns, no delays of any kind.
The big touring-car whirled up to the station at
Kingford without having encountered an acci-
dent or a constable, its occupants alighted, and
while Thomas went in to buy tickets for the
party, Mr. Lewis drove to a garage not far away,
and then, coming quickly back, joined his uncle
and niece just as the train puffed into the station.
Kingford was a town of considerable size, with
paved streets and brick buildings, and of suffi-
cient importance for all the express trains to stop
there. It was on the main line of the railroad
and the direct route to Boston, and very soon the
travellers were seated in a parlor-car with the
satisfactory assurance that they had caught their
train and were due to arrive in Boston, without
further change, more than two hours earlier than
a little while ago they had supposed possible.
Another good thing was the fact that Ludovic
Lewis was with them. General Keith realized
this morning, as he had never done before, that
254
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
he was growing older. He was a good deal shak-
en by Christopher's hasty and secret departure.
He was cut to the quick by it, and now that he
had time to think, it was a great comfort to him
that Ludovic was there to help and to advise, and
to decide quickly in any emergency that might
arise. The proud old man, contrary to his usual
custom, spoke freely to the younger one.
"I insisted that he should change his name,
Ludovic. I shouldn't have done that. Nobody
could have induced me to give up my own name.
I should have remembered that. And then the
boy heard something. He heard that — that I
couldn't forgive Emily. He doesn't know how
deeply I have regretted my harshness. I was
younger then, and my nature was more bitter,
harder, sterner. Now I see things in another
light, and my little boy has unconsciously taught
me how we ought to live — in peace and good
will with all, even with those who have wronged
us. But there was something to be said on both
sides, Ludovic."
"Of course, uncle. There always is."
"But I am not excusing myself. She was my
daughter, and I should have forgiven her. I in-
tended atoning for it with her boy, and now he
has gone away."
"We shall find him, and before night. Don't
worry, uncle. It will all come out right." And
17 255
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
privately Ludovic wondered to see how his cold,
proud uncle had softened, and he pitied him the
more, for it showed what he was suffering.
The train was on time, and precisely at ten
minutes of two it glided into the Boston terminal.
As the party walked quickly along the station
platform, Betty between General Keith and her
uncle, and Thomas and a porter following with
the bags and wraps, two men who were waiting
near the exit moved forward a few steps. Mr.
Lewis stopped and spoke to them, and after a
brief conversation they parted again. He re-
joined his family, and they mingled with the
crowd that entered the waiting-room.
"The detectives I telegraphed for, uncle," said
Ludovic. "They advise us to work very care-
fully— first to hunt up George Smith, and see if
Chris is with him. If he is not, we are to discover
in some way whether Betty's Hoboken friend has
had a hand in it. He may not have, you know.
That may have been merely a coincidence. Sup-
pose we go into the waiting-room for a few min-
utes. You and Betty can sit there while I find
out something about Smith. As he is a news-
boy on the trains, he will be coming into the sta-
tion sooner or later, and we perhaps can get him
more quickly than by going to the address that
Thomas got from the aunt in Maybury. He
wouldn't be there until night. We will go sit
256
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
down, and then one of the detectives is coming
to join us, so that Betty can give him an exact
description of her Hoboken friend, both the way
he looked then and as he does now."
They had entered the large waiting-room, and
soon found seats. Betty did as she was told, and
described with great exactness the past and
present aspect of Mr. Banks, although she did not
know him by that name. They were seated in
a row not very far from the information office,
which was a booth almost in the centre of the
room. At times a long line of persons awaited
their turn to ask for "information" regarding the
trains, at other times' no one was at the window.
The detective was standing in front of Betty.
As she turned from him to answer a question of
General Keith's, she gave an exclamation and
started to her feet;
"There he is! There's—"
"Sit right down!" commanded the detective.
"Don't show yourself."
"But it's Chris himself!" said Betty, reluc-
tantly obeying him.
"Never mind. All the better. Tell me where
without looking that way.''
"Chris himself!" repeated General Keith. He
also attempted to rise.
"You must keep quiet," said the detective,
whose name was Taylor. "I believe this is all
257
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
a carefully laid scheme to abduct your grand-
son, General Keith, by the same man who, from
what this young lady tells me, tried to do it be-
fore. It will be to your future advantage to
have him shut up, or he will be after him again,
so we must get him this time. Now, young
lady, tell me, without looking at him, where the
boy is."
"He's standing by that place where people go
to ask questions. He's got his back turned to
us. I don't believe he has seen us at all."
"So much the better." Taylor had been talk-
ing in a low voice, but without any appearance
of mystery. He now glanced about the waiting-
room without allowing his eyes to rest longer in
one place than another.
"A slight boy with light hair? Wears a little
gray cap?"
"Yes, yes!" exclaimed the General. "There
he is. I see him myself."
The line had moved on from the information
office, and Chris now stood there alone. He was
gazing toward the doors which opened upon the
street. The ever-changing throng within the
station made but little impression upon him.
He had been told that Banks would be in Boston,
and would join him soon after two o'clock and
take him to his office, which was not far away.
He therefore directed his attention entirely to
258
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
the doors by which a man already in the city
would naturally enter.
"He is evidently waiting for some one/' said
Ludovic. "I think Mr. Taylor is right, uncle.
We want to make sure of that man this tune.
If it proves to be Smith who comes for Chris no
harm will be done. If it isn't — "
"There's somebody now!" exclaimed Betty.
"And it isn't either of them."
A man had walked up to Christopher and said
something to him. The boy answered, and ap-
peared to be questioning the new-comer. He
still stood with his back toward his friends, who
were all eagerly watching. Then he stooped,
picked up his bag, which he had placed upon the
floor, and walked away with the stranger toward
the door of the station.
"Come," said the detective. He walked in
front, with Mr. Lewis, Betty, and the General
close behind. They quickened their footsteps, so
that by the time Christopher and his companion
reached the sidewalk they were very near.
"I'll give you a nice automobile ride," they
heard the man say.
"Is it far to the office?" asked Christopher.
"Quite a little way, but you won't mind that.
This way." His guide led him along the side-
walk toward the end of the big station. An auto-
mobile was drawn up at the curbstone. The man
259
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
in the chauffeur's seat, in a soft hat drawn well
down over his face, looked neither to the right
nor the left as they approached. Betty was now
walking beside her uncle. She glanced curiously
at the automobile and at the chauffeur.
" Oh !" she exclaimed. " Quick ! There he is —
Hoboken man — in the motor!"
Taylor signed to the party to wait. He moved
quickly forward, joined by the other officer, who
appeared from some other quarter. A police-
man stood on the corner. Christopher's com-
panion opened the door of the automobile. "In
with you!" he said. Still the chauffeur did not
look up.
Christopher's foot was on the step when he felt
himself picked up by some one behind him, who
took him by the arms, lifted him high in the air,
and then set him down on the pavement again
several paces away. He looked up in bewilder-
ment, to find himself standing by .his grandfather,
with his cousin Ludovic, who had carried him,
close behind him. He was too much amazed to
say a word. He looked at the automobile. Two
men had jumped into it, and two policemen stood
beside it.
"They've got him!" exclaimed Betty. "The
Hoboken man, Chris, the ' Fascinating Fer-
nando.' They've got him tight. Oh, I hope
they'll hold on to him and not let him wriggle
260
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
away from them! They ought to know how
well he wriggles!"
"Why, Betty! Are you here?" Chris turned
and looked at her. "What does it all mean?
How did you get here? And — and — " He turn-
ed again and looked at his grandfather, who had
not spoken a word. "Oh, grand, dear grand,
did you come after me? Oh, I am so glad! And
I'm sorry I did it. I'm so glad to see you
again."
Still the General said nothing, but he held out
his hand. Christopher took it in his own. It
was long before he would let it go. Clinging to
his arm, they walked back into the waiting-room.
Presently Ludovic Lewis joined them.
"Well, Betty," said he, "you have done some
good work ! If it hadn't been for you, we shouldn't
have managed it all so easily and neatly. With
your aid the detectives have nabbed a man they
have been after for some time — a man who is
wanted for making counterfeit money, and writ-
ing some one else's name, and a few other charm-
ing little affairs. It seems he has been in prison
in New York until last spring, and was wanted
in Boston for something he did here after he got
out, but he has kept carefully out of the way until
to-day. In his desire to make a fortune out of
uncle he walked right into the trap. He will be
-shut up now, uncle, for a sufficient number of
261
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
years for Chris to grow up and be able to take
care of himself."
"What does it all mean?" asked Christopher.
"Was that man trying to run away with me
again?"
' ' That is j ust what he was doing. He evidently
visited May bury for no other purpose."
"But I hadn't seen him before," said Chris.
"I came away with Geor — I didn't come with
that man."
"You came with George Smith," said Betty,
finishing the sentence for him. "You needn't
think we don't know that. And if George is a
friend of that Hoboken man, I don't think much
of him. And, Chris, I'm sure he was ' Fascinat-
ing Fernando' at the circus. I couldn't think
whom he reminded me of at the time, but now
I'm sure. Why, Chris, I don't see how you
could help recognizing that man. He has such
queer big ears and such jiggly eyes. They go
jumping about so, and never look at you. I
knew him the minute I saw him at Maybury this
morning, even though he did have on that queer-
looking beard."
"Was he really at Maybury?"
"Yes, and left there on your train."
"Uncle, we can get back to-night," said
Ludovic, "and I think it would be advisable,
don't you? If we are wanted in court we can
262
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
come to Boston again. There is a train some-
where around four o'clock. In the mean time,
wouldn't it be well to get something to eat?
Those sandwiches we had on the road were not
altogether filling."
He thought it was time to create a diversion,
for Christopher's face showed marks of fatigue.
He had been through a long day of excitement
which had begun at a very early hour, and he.
had had but little food. Ludovic did not know
all this, but his keen, kind eyes detected the
boy's exhaustion. And presently, when they
were all seated at table, he kept them laughing
with his absurd remarks and high spirits until
they had forgotten for a time the events which
had led to the journey to Boston. He knew
that General Keith had been very much affected
by all this, and that the narrow escape of his
grandson from grave danger had made a profound
impression upon the old man. Ludovic deter-
mined to have a conversation with Christopher
himself. He felt that he could speak to him
more clearly and forcibly, and with greater effect,
perhaps, than could the General. It was very
plain that the boy did not in the least realize his
duty to his grandfather. But all this must be
deferred until they were safely back in Maybury.
Chris did not talk much while they were at
table. It was evident that he was thinking deep-
263
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
ly, that something was troubling him which was
not the sense of his narrow escape. Ludovic's
impression was justified when the boy came to his
side as they left the restaurant.
"Cousin Ludovic," he said, "I want to speak
to you. I would rather no one else heard."
"All right, Chris. We'll manage it. We will
go buy some fruit to take up to Maybury. There
is a fruit store not very far from the station.
That will give us a chance to talk. Uncle," he
said, raising his voice, "if you and Betty will go
sit down in the waiting-room for a few minutes,
Chris and I will make some purchases we want
for our relatives in Maybury."
"Oh, let me go with you!" exclaimed Betty.
"I cannot think of allowing Christopher out
of my sight now," protested General Keith.
"Why, Christopher has never been so safe as
he is at this minute, uncle. He could probably
go all over Boston alone, now that his particular
friend from Hoboken is safely stowed away in
the patrol wagon with three stout policemen to
guard him. And I think you can trust him with
me, sir."
"Of course I can. I spoke without thinking."
"But you will stay with the General, Betty.
We don't want to leave him all alone, and Thomas
is off somewhere. Yes, Betty, please do as I ask."
So Betty sat down beside the General with as
264
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
good a grace as possible in the face of a disin-
clination to do what she was requested. It was
very poky to sit by] the taciturn General when
jolly Uncle Lu was taking Chris on a private ex-
pedition to the shops.
"We shall not be gone long," said Ludovic.
"Only across the way to buy peaches. You're
a peach yourself, Betty. You don't need to buy
any."
"Uncle Lu! Well, I'll stay, only I'd rather eat
one than be one."
"We'll bring you some. Come along, Chris.
Now, old man," he added, as they walked away,
"what do you want to say to me?"
"It is about George Smith. I don't believe he
really had anything to do with that man trying
to steal me. I don't want him punished, and I'm
afraid grandfather will. I know he's feeling very
angry with George. It was all my own fault that
I left Maybury — I mean it was my own plan.
George advised me not to go. Only last night,
when he came up to tell me we were to start this
morning, he didn't want me to come ; but I wanted
to earn my own living, just the way he is doing.
I don't think he even knows the Hoboken man."
"Are you quite sure he doesn't? Was George
with you all the time on the train? Didn't he
leave you at all?"
"Why, yes, he didn't stay with me all the time.
265
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
He went into the smoking-car without me. He
said I had better not go through the train while
it was going so fast."
"And was not he the one who directed you to
stand by the information office to meet the man
who promised to employ you?"
"Yes, he was. But, oh, I don't want to believe
George tried to have me stolen."
" No, I don't suppose you do. It is not a pleas-
ant experience to find that persons we supposed
were our good friends have proved that they could
not be trusted; but it sometimes happens, all the
same. I think we shall have to find out just how
much George has had to do with this business.
If you will trust me to manage it, Chris, I think
I can. I shall have to come to Boston in the
course of a day or two about this other man.
They will want me for a witness, I suppose, and
then I can see George and get at the truth. You
can depend upon me, old man. If there's any
good in George at all, I'll try and hunt it up. If
there isn't, if he's a pretty bad lot, why, it will
be as well for you to know it. Will you leave
it to me?"
"Of course I will, Cousin Ludovic. But you
tell him, won't you, that I don't think he meant
any harm?"
"Yes, I'll tell him. And now tell me what
you think of these peaches. Are they good
266
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
enough for your cousin Edith and Mrs. Hamil-
ton?"
"I don't think they are/' returned Chris,
promptly.
They had crossed the crowded street and en-
tered the little shop. The elevated trains, the
subway cars, the heavy drays, the carriages and
automobiles united to make a deafening roar,
and it was necessary to raise their voices to be
heard. The hot summer sun beat down upon
the city street, but at that very instant a subtle
change crept into the atmosphere. A salt smell
mingled with the odor of decaying fruit and dust
and smoke, a cool air brought vigor and refresh-
ment. An east wind had sprung up, and wilted
humanity, refreshed and invigorated, moved more
briskly and thought more clearly and rejoiced in
the relief, for it had been a very hot day.
Ludovic and Christopher soon found some fruit
that was more to their liking, and then they re-
turned to the station, having also provided them-
selves with a basket of peaches and pears es-
pecially for Betty — and also a large box of candy,
which was even more pleasing to the young lady
in question. And presently they were all seated
in the train and were hurrying as fast as steam
could carry them back to old Maybury, which
they had all left that morning under such different
circumstances.
267
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
Telegrams had been sent before them, and the
anxiety of those left at home had been relieved
as quickly as possible. Naturally the news of
Christopher's departure had spread quickly
through the village, for it had rested with Sam
Wilson to make it known. Gossip did not linger
long in his keeping. His was a generous soul in
that respect, and he no sooner heard a piece of
news than he imparted it to his neighbor. The
tale of his call at Keith Hall had been told with
twenty variations before twelve o'clock. When
the telegrams began to arrive, hot though the
day was, the village assumed an aspect of un-
wonted activity for the hour. The station mas-
ter, who was also the telegraph operator, and
whose name was "Jabe" Tarleton, lost no time
in spreading the news of the rescue. He had
never felt the necessity for privacy in the matter
of telegraphic communication.
"Gosh!" said he, "what's the use? If a feller
talks by wire he's got to expect some other fellow
to know what he's talkin' about. Same as postal-
cards. Postal-cards is public property. And tel-
ephones. If the telephone ever gets put up in
Maybury Centre, and I hope it will, I'll feel I
hev the right to set down and listen to whoever
happens to be talkin' on the line I happen to hev
in my house. It's one of the chances we've all
got to take, and we're all born equal."
oca
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
These being his openly expressed sentiments,
it surprised no one when he informed the waiting
village that Chris had been found, the scoundrel
caught, and the party was to return that even-
ing. It would have been a keen disappointment
to every one had he not told it. As to the
"scoundrel," that, they all decided, was George
Smith. No one had ever liked George. He had
borne a bad name from his first appearance in
Maybury Centre, when his mother took the old
house down the lane beyond Toppan Farm. No
special act of wrong-doing had ever been traced
to George, no one could have explained the
origin of his unsavory reputation. It had taken
root and grown, fostered at first by his extreme
poverty and shabby appearance. When it was
found that he was the nephew of Lucetta Smith,
who was greatly loved, there were many who for
her sake were inclined to overlook the past; but
George himself could not forget it, and he had
no friendly feelings toward the people of May-
bury. He refused to respond, therefore, to their
belated advances, and he thus made himself more
unpopular than ever. And now something had
occurred which caused them all to shake their
heads and say, "I told you so!"
As may be supposed, a number of persons
gathered at the little station to watch the arrival
of the train from Boston, and those who did not
269
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
come to the station were seated on the front
piazzas of their houses. But all in vain. The
train arrived, but the only persons to leave it
were one or two local travellers. What could
have happened? And the General was evidently
not expected, for no carriage had been sent to
meet him. Jabe had certainly made a great mis-
take.
And the mystery was not cleared up until the
automobile of "that New York feller" dashed
through the village an hour later, having left
the General and his grandson at Keith Hall on
its way from Kingford, and containing only Mr.
Lewis himself and his niece Betty Hamilton.
XVII
" pOOD-NIGHT, my boy," said General Keith.
\X He spoke quietly, and his face betrayed no
emotion. His voice shook slightly. They had
finished dinner, which had been eaten with the
usual attendant formalities. There had been lit-
tle conversation, but Christopher had been so
silent of late that this was not particularly
noticeable. There was nothing to mark the
fact that the day had been remarkable, that the
two who sat so quietly at either end of the table
had since sunrise passed through many emotions
and extremes of feeling. The sun was setting
now, a great ball of red in a cloudless west.
"We shall have another hot day to-morrow,"
observed the General, walking to the window.
Then he turned to Christopher. "You had bet-
ter go to bed now. You are tired."
Chris slipped his hand into his grandfather's,
and together they walked to the foot of the
stairs. When the General said good-night, Chris
let go his hand without a word. He mounted
two steps. Then he turned and looked into his
18 271
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
grandfather's face, with which his own was now
on a level.
"Grand," he said, in a whisper, "can I kiss
you?"
"Of course, Christopher. Do you need to ask
permission?"
"I didn't know. I wasn't sure. Grand, I'm
sorry I did it."
"So am I."
"I'm sorry because it worried you, but — "
"We'll have no 'buts' to-night, Christopher.
We are both tired."
There was a moment's silence. They stood
facing each other with a long, straight gaze, the
blue eyes of the boy looking into the dark but
faded eyes of the old man. Then Christopher
threw his arms about his grandfather's neck and
kissed him, and without a word he went up-
stairs. General Keith stood watching him. At
the top the boy turned and looked down.
"Good-night, grand," he called.
"Good-night, boy."
The boy was soon asleep, but the man's eyes
did not close until almost morning. All the even-
ing he walked up and down the library, or moved
restlessly from one room to another. He could
not read, he could only think, and when at last
he went to bed, still he could only think.
The next day at an early hour Ludovic Lewis
272
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
came to his uncle's house in his automobile and
invited Chris to take a ride. The General was
still sitting at the breakfast-table, but Chris was
at the stable. He was very glad to see Sassafras
again. Ben, who had looked after the horse, had
left suddenly the day before. The coachman was
very much disturbed by his departure. It made
him one man short, and such things were very
"upsetting." Ben's popularity had waned con-
siderable in consequence. Chris was being told
about it when he heard the tooting of the auto-
mobile horn and ran up to the house to see if his
cousin had come. Very soon, the General's per-
mission having been obtained, the two were glid-
ing out of the big gates and on their way to South
May bury."
"I want to have a talk with you, Chris," said
Mr. Lewis, "and that is the reason I didn't bring
Betty or any one else, though I think Miss Betty
would have liked very much to come. But I
knew this would be the only way to see you
alone, and there are one or two things, my boy,
that I want to say to you. First of all, will you
tell me something? Will you tell me what on
earth made you run away yesterday? Just start
in, and tell me from the beginning. What made
you do it?"
Ludovic Lewis was one of those rare persons
who, by a fine, wide charity, see good in all man-
273
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
kind, and therefore are in turn trusted by all
mankind. Saints and sinners alike, we have all
one trait in common: we respond to those who
trust us, to those who have faith in us we try, al-
though perhaps but feebly, to justify that faith,
to be worthy of it. And we love the person who
believes in us. Ludovic, with his generous nat-
ure, his keen sense of humor, his charm of man-
ner, was loved by all who knew him, and there
was no one more wholly devoted to him than his
cousin Christopher, who looked up to him and
admired him with all the ardor that a boy can
feel for a young man. There was, therefore, no
one more fitted to advise him, and no one to
whom he would be more willing to open his
heart.
For a few minutes after Ludovic asked the ques-
tion there was no reply. He turned and looked
down at the childish face and saw that an answer
was coming presently. Then he devoted himself
to the machine and waited.
"I went because I thought I ought to," said
Chris, at last. "And I'm going again."
"What do you mean by that?" His cousin's
voice was stern. "Have you no regard what-
ever for your grandfather? Don't you love him
at all?"
"Why, of course I love him, Cousin Ludovic!
I love him dearly."
274
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
" Don't you feel the least regret for having given
him so much anxiety yesterday? Do you realize
the danger you were in? Haven't you the slight-
est feeling of gratitude at being saved from what
might have proved a very terrible fate?"
"Of course, Cousin Ludovic; but you don't
seem to understand. I ran away because grand-
father wanted me to give up father's name, and
he wasn't kind to father, and so I think I ought
to make my own living, and not take grand-
father's money or have him support me. If I
were very little it might be different, but I am
big enough now to work. That's the reason I
went. I didn't know that man was going to be
around again and get hold of me. You see, he
thought I was a rich boy, I suppose. He didn't
know that really I'm a very poor boy. But now
he's caught and there's no danger from him, so I
shall be quite safe. I won't go away next time
without telling grandfather. I will tell him just
what I am going to do, and explain why I am
going. I see now it was wrong not to have ex-
plained."
"See here, Chris," said Ludovic, speaking more
gently than he did before, "I think things are
all twisted in your mind. I suppose you have
been thinking so hard that you're what Betty
would call 'all mixed up,' and I want to see if
we can't straighten you out a bit. You seem
275
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
to suppose that your only duty in life is to re-
sent the wrong that was done to your father
and to earn your own living. Now I think your
duty is very different. Shall I tell you what I
think?"
"Yes."
"Well, I think your duty is to the living and
not to the dead. By that I don't mean that you
ought to try to forget your father, but you ought
to try to forget any wrong that was done him if
the person who did it is sorry about it, and that
your grandfather most certainly is. As to the
name, I agree with you. I should not give up
my father's name for any amount of money. I
think you are right there, and I am quite sure
my uncle is not going to urge it any more; in
fact, he told me so, so that need not come into
the discussion at all. We will put that right out
of our minds. But you have a big duty which
you don't seem to see. You have but one near
relative in the world, and he is an old man who
loves you very dearly. You want to leave him
to a solitary and sorrowful old age, just so that
you can carry out your idea of being independent.
We can't all be independent. Most of us would
like to, but most of us have ties and claims of
some kind that must be attended to. Your
grandfather is yours. Remember what a lonely
little chap you were this time last year! Your
276
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
cousin Edith has told me how you used to long
for relations of your own."
"I know/' said Chris, in a low voice.
"And there is still another point. You have
no right to shirk the responsibility of your grand-
father's money. It is right and proper, by the
law of every civilized country, that you should
inherit your grandfather's money. At the same
tune, it is up to you to learn how to take care of
it — how to do good with it. Do you think you
are going to learn how to be a good millionaire if
you should spend your boyhood selling papers
or blacking boots or running errands? There
are good newsboys and good bootblacks and
good errand boys, and I honor and respect all
boys who make an honest living in those ways,
but I shouldn't honor and respect a boy who
shirked larger duties and responsibilities for the
sake of having his own way and doing as he
liked. When the money finally came to you,
you would be ignorant, inexperienced, totally un-
fitted in every respect to take care of it. In-
stead of being ready to help the world on to
something better by wisely administering a large
fortune, you would have grown up ignorant and
self-willed and useless for the position you will
be called upon to fill. Now I don't believe this
side of it has occurred to you at all. I want you
to think it all over. And, above all, don't forget
277
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
the duty of loving. And love means a lot, Chris.
It means more than just affection. It means a
large comprehension, an understanding heart.
If you love your grandfather in the way you
should love him you will understand him, and
if you love your fellow-men you will understand
them, and in time you will have the chance to
help them. Here we are at South Maybury, and
I'll stop preaching. Now we'll do some shopping
again. Let's get something very nice for Betty."
They found a gift for Betty at the jewellers'.
Chris discoverered it himself, and declared that
there was nothing else in South Maybury that
would do as well, and he purchased it forth-
with, being obliged to borrow some money of his
cousin to do it, for he had not come prepared to
do such extensive shopping. It was a little gold
locket in the shape of a heart, and Ludovic made
it complete by adding a fine gold chain upon
which to wear it. It was great fun, Chris thought,
to choose these articles, and of the greatest im-
portance to decide properly as to the relative
merits of the different sizes and styles. At last
this was accomplished, and while the box was
being wrapped up his attentive gaze wandered
over the other things displayed for sale. They
were about to leave the shop when Chris paused
and looked back.
"Cousin Ludovic," he said, and hesitated.
278
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"What is it now, Chris?"
"Do you think grandfather would think it silly
if I got him a present?"
"Why, no, of course not. I am sure he would
like it."
"Do you, really? Well, there's something I'd
like to get. It's got some words on it, and I
thought if I gave it to him and he read the
words he'd understand without my saying any-
thing."
"Of course he would. That is a very good
idea. Let's see what it is."
They returned to the show-case, and Chris-
topher requested the man to let him see a case
of rings at which he had been looking through
the glass while they waited. They were exceed-
ingly ugly rings, Ludovic thought, privately ; but
their value to Chris lay in the fact that each one
was in the form of a shield. On the shield was an
initial, and under the initial the words " Je t'aime."
They were evidently intended for engagement
rings. It was difficult for Chris to decide whether
the proper initial to choose should be B for Bald-
win or K for Keith. He finally decided upon the
latter as being more appropriate, " because grand
is so fond of the name of Keith," he explained.
"Do you think he will wear a ring?" suggested
Ludovic, not wishing to interfere, but at the same
time wondering what effect such a bit of jewelry
279
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
might have upon his fastidious uncle, whose taste
in dress was severely simple.
"I think he will if I ask him to," said Chris-
topher, with the child's faith in his own power.
The rings were all of the same size, so that ques-
tion did not trouble him, and very soon another
box was tied up, and with the two precious little
packages in his pocket they were speeding home-
ward.
They did not talk much. Ludovic felt that he
had said enough, for he saw that his words had
taken root, and he hoped would bear good fruit.
Chris was thinking deeply. They were almost
at Pringle Farm when he turned suddenly and
asked a question.
"Cousin Lu," he said, "is it right for some peo-
ple to have such lots and lots of money when oth-
ers haven't got any? Oughtn't we to divide up?"
Ludovic was silent for a moment. Then he
said: "That question has been asked and thought
about almost since history began, old chap. Di-
viding up doesn't seem to help matters much,
human beings being what they are, for the money
can't or won't stay divided. There is so much to
affect the matter: superior ability, intelligence,
certain talents, education — oh, it is a huge sub-
ject! But you can do a lot of good with a large
fortune if you wish to, Chris, and I hope you will
do it. That is one way of 'dividing up.' "
280
'"l SHALL ALWAYS WEAR IT ALL MY LIKE LONG,' SHE SAID"
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
And then they turned in at the gates of Pringle
Farm, for the locket must be given to Betty be-
fore Chris went home.
Of course, Betty was delighted. The chain was
fastened around her neck at once, and the little gold
heart looked very well on her blue gingham frock.
"I shall always wear it all my life long," she
said. "Pauline has a round locket my aunt gave
her, but it isn't nearly as pretty as this. Weren't
you two people nice to get me such lovely pres-
ents! Was it just because I knew the man from
Hoboken yesterday?"
"Oh no," said Chris, gravely, before his cousin
could speak. "We got them for you because
you're the nicest girl we know. That's the reason
people give presents."
"Do you really like me better than you do
Rachel Amy?" asked Betty, greatly pleased with
his reply, but, womanlike, not quite satisfied, and
insisting upon pushing the inquiry as far as pos-
sible.
"Why, how funny you are, Betty! I should
think you'd know. I like Rachel Amy ever and
ever so much, but you're a sort of a relation. Of
course, we think you're the nicest girl we know.
Don't we, Cousin Lu?"
"Of course."
"If it's just because I'm a relation — " she be-
gan.
281
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
"Oh, you silly!" exclaimed Christopher. "It
isn't. It's because you're just Betty. I couldn't
possibly ever like any girl as much as I do you, be-
cause— why, because you're Betty Hamilton, and
there couldn't possibly be another girl like you."
"All right," said Betty, satisfied at last; "then
I'll always be very careful of the locket and never
lose it and treasure it forever." Which promise
was faithfully kept through all of Betty's life.
"That important matter being settled, you may
as well jump in, Betty. We'll take Chris home,"
said her uncle, and Betty promptly jumped in.
That afternoon Mr. Lewis went to Boston again.
He was gone for several days; but when he re-
turned, he reported that matters were progressing
satisfactorily. Banks was in jail awaiting trial;
and as there was positive proof of various offences
that he had committed, he would certainly be
sentenced to a long term of imprisonment. George
Smith had been seen and interviewed, and there
was no doubt in Ludovic's mind of his being per-
fectly innocent in the matter of the attempted
stealing of Christopher. He had been so anxious
to know what had become of the boy, so relieved
to hear that he was at home again, and so un-
mistakably disgusted with himself for having been
deceived so easily by the accomplished Banks,
that Ludovic was quite sure that he had been
entirely ignorant of what he was doing.
282
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
This opinion of George Smith was shared by all
of Christopher's immediate friends, but the peo-
ple of Maybury Centre were not convinced. The
story had soon gained ground that Smith had
come back to Maybury when he did for the sole
purpose of assisting Banks.
"I tell yer," exclaimed Sam Wilson, "I seen
the thing from the first. Yer can't fool me.
George Smith was at the bottom of the whole
thing. I'm real sorry for Lucetta and that little
Lucy. George is a bad lot."
In which opinion his intimates concurred. It
was a clear case of "once give a dog a bad name,"
and it was years before George Smith, by work-
ing steadily and industriously, succeeded in over-
coming the prejudice against him which was so
strong in Maybury Centre. He was not there
very often, but he came occasionally to see his
sister, who, with their cousin Rachel Amy, shared
the affections and the home of their aunt Lucetta,
for Mrs. Martin united her fortune with that of
Timothy Tarleton and went to live in Kingford.
Christopher Lovel never again attempted to run
away from home. He settled it definitely with
his grandfather the evening of the day after his
first and only expedition in search of an indepen-
dent life.
The day had been passed much as usual. When
Chris returned from the trip to South Maybury
283
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
the General suggested an hour's music. Then
came luncheon, and then the usual afternoon rest
which the General invariably indulged in. After
that a ride on horseback. They had returned
from the ride and were awaiting dinner when
Chris finally made up his mind to speak to his
grandfather. All day he had been trying to
screw up sufficient courage to open the subject.
He knew that his grandfather intended that he
should speak first.
"Grand," he said, suddenly rising and standing
beside him, "please excuse me for going off. I
oughtn't to. I won't again."
"That's right, boy."
"And, grand—"
"What is it, boy?"
The General fully expected to hear something
now in regard to the change of name, but Chris-
topher had no intention of driving a bargain; in
fact, such a thought never occurred to him. He
was fumbling in his pockets. At last, after pro-
ducing various treasures, such as a bunch of
string, a knife, a curious pebble, and other articles
of a similar nature, he drew forth the little box.
"I got you something over in South May bury,"
he said.
"You got me something? A present, you
mean?"
"Yes, grand. I — I want you please to wear it.
284
MISS BETTY OF NEW YORK
It's a ring," he announced. Then anxiously:
" Do you think it will fit ? Try it on."
General Keith did as he was commanded. He
had never worn a ring in his life, and he had never
seen one which was quite so hideous as this. It
fitted exactly his little finger.
"It does fit!" exclaimed Chris, joyfully. "And
do you see what's on it? Put on your glasses,
grand."
General Keith put on his glasses. "Ah," said
he. "I see. That is very nice, Christopher.
I'm — I'm glad to have it."
"And will you wear the ring? Because you
know I'd like to have you remember that, and the
ring will remind you."
"There's no danger of my forgetting, but I will
wear the ring."
"Good!" said Christopher. "I'm glad it fits
so well. And you see it has a K on it. That's
for Keith."
The old man looked at it again. Then he put
his arm around his grandson and drew him closer
to him.
"Boy," said he, "don't worry. Your name
shall always begin with an L. And we will agree,
you and I, to let bygones be bygones."
THE END
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