Letty and the Twins

by Emerson Hough

  CHAPTER VIII

  JANE’S IDEA

  Mrs. Hartwell-Jones and Letty were very silent at first as they drovealong. Letty was quite overcome with shyness and Mrs. Hartwell-Jones wasconsidering what it was best to say first. She was very anxious to havea long talk with Letty, which was the reason why she had not wished Janeand Christopher to come too. For Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s plan was nothingmore nor less than to take Letty herself, to act as little errand girland companion during the summer; then in the autumn when she returned tothe city, to put the child in school and enable her to grow upwell-taught and fitted to take her place in the working world. But therewere a great many things to be thought about and talked over first.

  “My dear, tell me something about yourself, will you?” she asked gently,after the gate had been passed and the ponies were trotting sedatelyover the smooth country road toward the village.

  “About myself!” exclaimed Letty in astonishment. “Why, there isn’tanything to tell. I’m just Letty Grey.”

  “How long have you been with Mr. and Mrs. Drake?”

  “Three years this fall. My brother——” She stopped a moment to swallowhard and then went bravely on: “My brother was with the circus. Heperformed on the tight rope. Then after he fell and—and died, Mrs. Drakesaid I might stay on and help round. I had nowhere else to go. I am fondof Punch and Judy, and Mrs. Drake was always kind to me, but——”

  “But what, dear child?”

  “I hate a circus!”

  “You poor child! Tell me how you happened to join a circus in the firstplace. Tell me more about it all. When did your parents die and wherewas your home when they were living?”

  “In Philadelphia. But my father died when I was a tiny baby. I don’tremember him at all. We were very poor and my mother was not strong. Mybrother Ben was only sixteen years old when father died—he was fourteenyears older than I. He ran errands at a theatre, ‘call boy’ I think itwas called, and mother took in sewing. After a while Ben learned how todo tumbling from a man who had an act at the theatre and taught me howto spring up and balance on his head. Mr. Goldberg engaged us for hislittle theatre at Willow Grove. He was a very kind manager and used togive me big boxes of candy. But mother never liked my doing it. She wasglad when, about the middle of the summer, a trained bear that hadperformed in the theatre went mad or something from the heat and theyhad to take him away; then Mr. Drake brought Punch and Judy and offeredto teach me how to put them through their tricks instead of the trainedbear. Mother was much happier because I did not have to jump with Benany more.

  “It was a very happy summer!” And Letty sighed. “It was the last mymother ever lived,” she added in a low, choked voice.

  “When did it happen, dear little child, and how old were you?” askedMrs. Hartwell-Jones softly.

  “It was that next fall. I—I was hardly ten years old. Mrs. Drake waswith us. She lived in the neighborhood and—and afterward she took mewith her. I have been with her ever since,” and Letty sighed again.

  “You poor, forlorn child!” exclaimed Mrs. Hartwell-Jones tenderly. “Whata melancholy life you have had!”

  “Only since—since I lost my mother,” replied Letty quickly. “I was veryhappy before that.”

  “Have you ever been to school?”

  “Not very much. My mother taught me until she was not strong enough andthen I went to school.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “No, ma’am. Not a bit. The other girls were horrid to me and wouldn’tmake friends. At least the girls my own age wouldn’t. They said I wasonly a little circus girl. I wasn’t as far along in my lessons as theywere, either, and had to go into a class with real little girls whothought I was stupid and made fun of me until I read aloud to them. Thenthey liked me better.

  “But that was before mother died. After that I couldn’t bear to go toschool any more that winter.”

  “You poor, motherless little girl!” cried Mrs. Hartwell-Jones again,with a catch in her own voice. “And was there no joy—no spot of color inall that dull, dreary time?”

  “Ben was always good to me. He was very busy at the theatre all winter,but whenever he could spare the time he took me for walks. Once he tookme to a concert. A lady sang, oh, so beautifully!

  “And there was the church music, too. I loved it there; it was a verybig church with beautiful stained glass windows. The organ hummed sograndly and little boys in white gowns and voices like angels sang. Oh,it was wonderful!”

  “I see you are fond of music,” observed Mrs. Hartwell-Jones, glancingwith pleased surprise at the little girl’s flushed cheeks and shiningeyes.

  “Oh, so fond!” replied Letty eagerly.

  Then she stopped, seized with a new fit of shyness. How had it comeabout that she should be chattering so freely all this time to the greatlady of whom she had felt in such awe an hour before; the writer ofbooks! Somehow she had forgotten all about her greatness and riches; shehad felt only the loving kindness and sympathy of her manner.

  Ever since her mother’s death Letty had had an odd, tight feeling aroundher heart; as if it had been tucked into a case that was too small forit. When Ben died the case had grown smaller and tighter until it cutlike a metal band. She had never been able to talk to any one of hergrief until something in Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s manner had appealed tothe trustfulness of the sensitive, lonely child. And her heart felt lessswollen and sore after she had spoken.

  Mrs. Hartwell-Jones asked no more questions for a time, and Letty wentover in her mind her day’s experience; the gay, happy children, the big,sunny farmhouse with its green lawns and orchard and last, but notleast, the good dinner and general homey feeling.

  Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s thoughts were busy too, and all that Letty hadtold her made her the more decided to take the girl from her presentsurroundings. But she said nothing to Letty. She would wait until shehad had her talk, as she had determined, with Mrs. Drake.

  In the meantime the twins, left at home at Sunnycrest, felt a bit flat.

  “I’m glad Mrs. Hartwell-Jones has bought the ponies,” said Jane, idlyswinging on the gate. “’Cause she’ll take us driving with them lots oftimes, I think.”

  “It’s lucky Josh found ’em all right,” responded Christopher. “He knowsa lot about horses, Josh does, and he might have found something wrong.”

  “Oh, he couldn’t have been so mean as to say anything was wrong about’em. He just couldn’t help loving the cunning little things.”

  “It isn’t a question of loving,” retorted Christopher grandly. “It’s aquestion of spavins or—or heaves, or heart disease. Those are horse’sdiseases, you know.”

  “They aren’t all horse’s diseases. People can have some of ’em.Leastways, nurse said Norah Flannigan had heart disease and that waswhat made her eyes stick out, like a frog’s.”

  “What did her eyes sticking out have to do with it?”

  “Why, greeny, don’t you know that when people have heart disease theireyes always bulge? It’s a symptom. I asked mother and she said so. Butwho I’m sorry for is Letty,” she went on hastily. She saw thatChristopher was about to question further about this most interestingsymptom of heart trouble and she did not wish to betray the fact thatshe had come to the end of her knowledge.

  “What are you sorry for Letty for? Has she got heart disease?”

  “No, but she hasn’t any home.”

  “Well, but she’s got a circus to belong to and that’s lots moreexciting.”

  “But she doesn’t like a circus. She said so. She doesn’t like travelingaround and living in a tent. And now that Punch and Judy are gone fromthe circus she won’t have anything to do. I wish grandmother had let herstay here to help Huldah.”

  “So do I,” replied Christopher cruelly. “’Cause then she’d be around toplay dolls with you and I could get off more to go with the boys.”

  “If you want to play with the boys, why don’t you go?” said Janeloftily. “I’m sure I don’t want your compan
y if you don’t want to stay.”

  Just then she spied something enveloped in a cloud of dust coming up theroad, and her tone changed.

  “Kit Baker, who’s that?”

  “Huh?” asked Christopher, glancing at the approaching dust cloud withpretended surprise. “Oh, that’s just Bill Carpenter coming out to seethe pups. Grandfather said I might give him one. And we’re going to talkbaseball too a bit. The fellows want me on the nine. You needn’t goaway, though; there’s no secret,” he added politely, as Jane climbeddown off the gate.

  The dust cloud had by this time revolved upon them and disclosed asmall, freckled boy on a big bicycle. Jane gave her brother one hurt,angry look, turned her back and without a word ran into the house.

  “What’s the matter?” called grandmother, catching sight of the red,scowling face as Jane passed the sitting-room door.

  “Oh, nothing,” answered Jane carelessly, turning and entering the room.“Kit’s got a boy out there, so I thought I’d come in and see if Huldahwanted me to help her.”

  Grandmother peered out the window at the backs of two boys disappearingaround the corner of the house in the direction of the stable.

  “I don’t believe Huldah is in the kitchen, dear,” she said, “but perhapsyou would like to sit with me for a little while? I have some prettybits of silk put away that I have been saving up for you to make adoll’s quilt. I thought they might come in useful when you and I weresitting together over a bit of sewing.”

  This suggestion made Jane feel very grown up—almost like a lady come into spend the afternoon. The sulky frown smoothed itself out at once.Grandmother directed her where to find the box of silks, threaded herneedle and advised in a most interested way about the choice of colors.

  Jane seated herself in a low rocking-chair beside an open window andfelt very important indeed as she snipped squares of silk and sewed themtogether. She forgave her brother his preference for boys, she forgot tobe curious as to which puppy Billy Carpenter might choose. She evenforgot, in the general grown-upness of the occasion, that she did notlike sewing. And crowning joy, when Huldah brought a tea tray in at fiveo’clock, grandmother poured her out a cup of tea—with plenty of hotwater, to be sure—from her own teapot. Jane pretended that there wereother guests present, taking tea, too. This game added to her dignityand it also accounted, most conveniently, for the rapid disappearance ofthe cakes and cookies.

  “Grandmother,” said Jane, feeling quite grown up enough to discuss anysubject, “I was so sorry for Letty.”

  “Yes, poor little child. It is hard to be motherless.”

  “She asked me if I thought there was any chance of her getting a placearound here. I thought perhaps you might like to take her to helpHuldah.”

  Mrs. Baker did not answer for a few moments, but bent silently over herknitting. Then she said:

  “Janey, dear, Mrs. Hartwell-Jones did not wish anything said about ituntil the question was settled, one way or the other, but I am going tosee if you can keep a secret.”

  “Oh, grandmother, dear, of course I can! Oh, what is it?” cried Janeeagerly, jumping up and spilling the whole box of silk scraps out uponthe floor.

  “She thinks of taking Letty—that is, if Mrs. Drake can answersatisfactorily all the questions that must be asked—to wait on her thissummer; and then in the fall to put her at some good school where shewill be taught how to earn her own living when she grows up.”

  “Oh, grandmother, how perfectly perfect! And can’t Mrs. Hartwell-Jonesstay here with us all summer, instead of going back to Mr. Parsons’house in the village?”

  “I shall keep her, certainly, as long as she will stay, Janey dear. Butdo you see how wonderful all this is going to be for Letty? Now, she isa homeless little girl, with nowhere to go in the wide, wide world; butif Mrs. Hartwell-Jones takes her she will be housed and cared for andprotected. It is a fearful thing to be a little girl alone in the world,Janey.”

  “Yes, grandmother,” replied Jane solemnly. “And wouldn’t it be asurprise if Letty should turn out to be a relation of Mrs.Hartwell-Jones’s? It would be like one of her own stories, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, it certainly would be wonderful. But there is not much likelihoodof that, dear. There are a great many Joneses in the world.”

  “Yes, it seems to be a very popular name. But, grandmother, when shallwe know surely, if Letty is coming back?”

  “I think it is pretty certain,” replied grandmother with a smile. “Mrs.Hartwell-Jones had about made up her mind before she started, and Mrs.Drake will not have very much to say against Letty, if we are to believeMr. Drake’s account. The child will be a great help to Mrs.Hartwell-Jones, with her lame ankle.”

  Jane was gathering up the scattered scraps of bright colored silk.

  “I think I won’t sew any more just now, grandmother, if you will ’scuseme. I want to go out to the gate and watch for them to come back.”

  Outside the sitting-room door she met the boys. Her superiority inhaving been confided a secret made her very amiable, and when she sawthat Billy Carpenter carried a puppy, she forgot her injury in examiningthe ball of fur to decide which puppy it was. But she kept one eye onthe gate and presently tumbled the puppy back in to Billy’s arms and ranoff toward the driveway with a shout.

  Bill was not expecting the burden at that moment and the fat puppy fellyelping to the ground. But Jane did not turn round.

  “What in the world!” ejaculated Christopher, who had never before seenJane deaf to cries of distress.

  “Perhaps she feels bad about your giving away the pup,” suggested Billy,picking up the whining little beast.

  The two boys bent over the puppy to see if its fall had injured it andneither of them noticed the approach of the pony carriage, again beingdriven, to Jane’s unspeakable joy, by Letty.