by Carolyn Wells, originally begun January 1899
THE STILLFORD HOUSE
They drove along and along the beautiful Marsden Koad, past many fine houses sitting complacently in their well-kept grounds; and at last the carriage turned in at an entrance to a tree-shaded avenue that was really very much like the approach to the Van Court mansion. "Here we are, Betty," said Miss Grace. "Do you think you could be happy here?"
Betty said nothing, but smiled up into her friend's eyes, for, despite their short acquaintance, there was much sympathy between them.
The driveway wound around and up a slope, encircled a great glassy plot, and then down and out to the gate again. At the top of the slope it passed the Stillford house, and here the carriage stopped. They all got out and went up the steps of a broad veranda that spread itself across the front of the house and disappeared around the corners. The house was by no means a modern one, but was built on the plan which boasts of two front doors, with large rooms between them, and wings on each side. Mr. Brewster rang the bell at one of the doors,—the western one,—and in a few moments the other door opened, and a voice said briskly.
"Want to see the house? Have to come in this way if you do."
They crossed to the other door, and found a pleasant-faced woman, who announced herself as Mrs. Ryan, the caretaker of the place.
Mr. Brewster explained that they did want to see the house, with a view to a possible purchase of it; and Mrs. Ryan, producing a bunch of keys, piloted the party from one room to another, dilating as she went upon the advantages of the dwelling and upon the glory of the departed Stillfords.
"These is the parlures," said she, ushering them into the two rooms that filled the central portion of the house. "Front one looks down to town, as you see. Back one commands a view of the river and mountings in the distance. My! The ball-dances Mrs. Stillford used to give in these here parlures! I tell you, them was the grand days of this house."
The large, high-ceilinged rooms were utterly bare of furniture; but Betty's accommodating imagination ignored all beneath the level of her own eyes, and as she looked at the frescoed garlands on the walls and ceilings, the shining, flickering glass prisms on the chandeliers, and the carved scrolls of the tall mantels, she fancied she could hear the rustle of silks and the sounds of music and merriment that must have marked Mrs. Stillford's "ball-dances."
From the front parlor, double doors led into the west hall, and as Mrs. Ryan unlocked them a wail of anger greeted the party:
"Dit out o' here! I 'm p'ayin' sojer!"
A glance at the "sojer" surroundings explained at once why entrance to the house had to be made by the other door; for a fort built of bricks occupied the front of the hall.
This was surmounted by a fair-sized cannon, presided over by a warlike-looking individual of perhaps five years. He brandished a tin sword, and repeated:
"Dit out o' here, or I 'll shoot you down dead!"
"Don't mind him," said Mrs. Ryan, apologetically; " he 's gettin' well of the measles, and he did n't feel very scrumptious to-day, so I let him play in here. It makes things sort o' hoopsy-topsy, but he don't hurt nothin'. Keep still, Michael Edward; nobody 's goin' to interfere with you. Don't raise such a hubbubble."
But the valiant warrior continued to yell until the invaders, after admiring the wide hall with its great door at each end, went on to further explorations.
West of the west hall was the dining-room, in the front of the house, and back of it the kitchen.
"This here dinin'-room is considered great," said Mrs. Ryan. "This handsome sideboard is built to the wall, you see, and the mantel has carvin' on it that spells a motto."
"Ah, yes," said Mr. Morris; "and the carving is beautiful—really beautiful! Brewster, this is a fine old house."
"It is, indeed," replied Mr. Brewster; "and if Miss McGuire does n't buy it, I think I should like it myself." And he looked hopefully toward Miss Grace, who quickly looked another way.
To reach the second floor they must needs pass the fort again. They saluted the captain, but received in return only a few irate growls.
"You would n't think it," said Mrs. Ryan, as they all went up the broad staircase, "but Michael Edward is a real good boy gen'rally. Only, when he 's been sick, it seems to jest go through all his temper. Oh, well, some cake does bake that way!"
Then she paused on the landing to call her guests' attention to the view of the river and "mountings" again.
Miss Grace admired the view, but seemed even more impressed with the possibilities of the landing. It was as large as a small room, and with the great window and the lovely outlook might be furnished so as to become a perfect nook of comfort.
"Yes, 'm," said Betty, as her friend detailed these suggestions, "an' a singin' aeolian harp in the window."
"Why, that 's just the finishing touch," cried Miss Grace. "What do you know about an aeolian harp, Betty?"
"They had one at Miss Christabel's, ma'am, an' I used to listen to its music until my heart was in my throat. Oh, Miss Grace, am I going to live here?"
"If you like it, Betty. The choice rests with you. But this is only the first house you 've looked at, you know. You ought to see some others before you decide upon this as satisfactory."
"Yes,'m," said Betty.
Then they went on, through the rooms and halls of the second floor and the third floor, and finally they came down the other stairs into the east hall.
In the east wing were two rooms which, Mrs. Ryan informed them, the Stillfords had used for a library and a music-room.
"A music-room!" said Betty, her eyes dancing. "What is that?"
"Why, a room for music, for music only," said Mr. Morris. "It should contain a piano,—a piano, you know,—and other instruments, and be devoted solely to the production and enjoyment of music."
"What did you think it was?" asked Miss Grace, noticing the disappointment on Betty's countenance.
"I thought," she answered, bravely confessing her ignorance, "that it was like a music-box, only as big as a room, an' if you wound it up it would play tunes."
"You can have a music-box in it if you like," said Mr. Brewster.
"Then I will buy the house," said Betty, with sudden decision.
"Bless my soul!" said Mr. Morris. "We must see— we must talk this over. It strikes me,—yes, it certainly strikes me,—it is a very large house for you."
They were in the music-room now. Mrs. Ryan had heard alarming sounds from the fort, and had gone to investigate, leaving the visitors to sum up their opinions of the house.
Miss Grace and Mr. Brewster were seated on the low seat which ran around the bay-window; Mr. Morris was pacing the room in his quick, nervous way; and Betty was standing leaning against one of the fluted pillars which divided the music-room from the library back of it.
"No," she said decidedly; "it's not too large for me an' my family. I 've been makin' plans as I went through the rooms, an' I don't want to look at any other house. If the fortune is my own, an' if I am to have the spendin' of it, I will buy this house, I will, an' then I will buy my furniture an' my family."
There was an old wooden box in Mr. Morris's path; first he stumbled over it, then he sat down upon it, and blessed his soul with emphasis, while he drummed out strange measures on the sides of the box with his fingers.
"Buy a family ?" he said, "a family? What do you mean?"
"I know of a market," said Mr. Brewster, recalling a very old joke, "where there is a sign which reads,'Families Supplied.' Perhaps you could get one there."
Betty looked at Mr. Morris's amazed countenance, and then at Mr. Brewster's quizzical one, and she felt suddenly as if she was a very foolish little girl.
But Miss Grace smiled at her with loving sympathy, and in an instant she flew across the room and nestled at the lady's side.
Miss Grace put her arm round Betty, and said kindly: "Now, tell tis, dear, about the family you want to buy."
"Well, you see, ma'am," began Betty, feeling once more the courage of her own convictions, "it's just this way. An' maybe I 'm plannin' too fast; maybe it's not for the likes of me to live in a beautiful house like this. But the gentleman said the money is my own, an' by the same token that must be true, though I can't quite believe it; an' so I want to buy me a house to make my home in. An' how can it be a home without a family? An' where would I get a family but to buy one? So if I 've money enough I 'll buy me a grandmother, an' a baby sister, an' a brother. But bein' as I 'll take Lame Jack for my brother, I 'm thinkin' I 'll get him for nothin'."
"And where will you buy your other relatives ?" asked Mr. Brewster, trying hard not to laugh.
But Betty answered as seriously as if he had inquired which was the best place to buy white parasols:
"I 'm thinkin' I can get my grandmother at the Old Ladies' Home, an' my baby at the Orphan Asylum; an' if Miss Grace would go with me to pick 'em out, I 'm sure we 'd get nice ones."
"I 'm sure you would," said Mr. Brewster, heartily.
Mr. Morris rose from his soap-box and paced round in his track again.
"She 's all right," said he, pounding one palm with the other fist. "The child's all right. Betty, you shall have your home and your family. Yes, yes; you shall have your home and your family. And you must have a housekeeper and servants."
"My grandmother will keep house for me, sir, until I can learn to do it myself. An' I will have servants enough to keep the place tidy, an'—an' I will be very good to 'em."
Betty's thoughts suddenly flew back to her own servitude at Mrs. Tucker's, and she resolved that her domestic rule should be just and kind.
"Well, well," said Mr. Morris, "the way to do some things is to do them. Yes, yes; that is the way to do some things. This whole affair is unique, so far as I know, but we have to deal with it as it is. And, Miss McGuire, as you are my client, I shall obey orders, and with the help of these kind friends we 'll carry this through; yes, yes, we 'll carry it through."
"Indeed, I 'll help all I can," said Miss Grace. "I think it is lovely, and I 'm glad to assist."
"I quite agree with you," said Mr. Brewster.
"Well, how do you like the house?" asked Mrs. Ryan, who had quelled the military uprising, and was beaming on them from the doorway.
"It is a very attractive place," said Miss Van Court, pleasantly; "and we thank you for showing us about. We are going home now to talk it over, and I think it is likely we shall buy the house. In that case, what will become of you?"
"Oh, I 'll go back to where I used to live before I came to work for the Stillfords. And I 'll be glad to go, too. I was mighty fond of Mrs. Stillford, but now she 's gone I ain't got no call to stay here. Good day, miss; good day, sirs."
The party drove back to the Van Court home, and were met on the veranda by the other ladies of the family, and by Mr. Richard Van Court, who had returned from the city.
Betty's face turned scarlet at sight of him; for she remembered their last meeting, and wondered how he would treat her now.
But Mr. Eichard, being a careless and easy-going young man, and being amused by the story of Betty's change of fortunes, was quite willing to make friends with the small heiress. So he greeted her with a smile, and said:
"Hallo, Popinjay! How would you like it if I turned the hose on your fine pink frock?"
Betty blushed harder than ever, and was at a loss for a reply.
But her tormentor would not let her off so easily.
"How would you like it, eh, Popinjay?"
Then Betty looked at him with her honest blue eyes, and answered bravely: "If you did n't mean to do it, sir, I 'd thank you for your kind intentions."
The Irishness of this speech pleased the young man wonderfully, and he went off into a peal of laughter. "You would, would you?" said he. "Betty, we 'll let bygones be bygones, and be friends. Would you like that?"
"Yes, sir," said Betty.
"Then shake hands on it. There! Now remember, whenever you want a friend, Dicky Van Court is it. And now tell me all about this happy home you 're going to buy."
But Miss Grace interfered. "Not now," she said. "Come with me, Betty, and get ready for dinner, and you can talk to my brother afterward."
They went away together, and Mr. Dick called after them:
"Put on your red necktie, Popinjay. I shall never be really happy until I see that necktie exhibited in all its glory again!"
...to be continued
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