by Carolyn Wells, originally begun January 1899
MR. DICK PLANS A PICNIC
The law is a great blessing, and what we should do without it would be hard to tell. But it is also a complicated mechanism and very difficult to understand. So we won't go into legal details, but satisfy ourselves with some main facts. And, indeed, since Betty never knew, and could n't have understood if she had known, the processes by which her fortune became legally hers, it is certainly unnecessary to trouble ourselves about them. By the regular proceedings, then, of this wise but mysterious "law," Betty's claims were duly established, and Mr. Morris was appointed guardian of her financial affairs. Since he lived in Australia, Mr. Brewster was appointed to be his representative in this country. Both these gentlemen received salaries for their labors, and Betty was therefore under no obligation to them—except that, being true and noble-hearted men, they managed affairs with a generous interest that money could not repay. Even inexperienced Betty appreciated this, and often thanked them with all the earnestness of her ardent Irish heart.
The Van Courts, one and all, were her firm friends and allies. Though Mr. Dick teased her, and Mrs. Van Court often seemed curt and chilling, and Miss Margaret was blunt and outspoken, yet on the whole they were very good to the little stranger within their gates; and Miss Grace was angelically kind.
So the plans for the future went on rapidly, for all were interested in the novel enterprise; and Mr. Morris, who was obliged to return to Australia soon, wanted matters to progress as far as possible before he left the country.
The Stillford house was bought, and as Betty, being a minor, could not hold property, the deed was made out in Mr. Brewster's name, who held it in trust for her until she should come of age.
The house being bought, the next thing, of course, was the furniture.
"You 'll have to go to New York for it," said Mrs. Van Court. "There 's nothing worth buying in Greenborough."
"Just the thing!" exclaimed Mr. Dick, who was present at this conclave. "We 'll make a picnic to New York, and stay several days. I 'll go with you, and show you the sights. Hast been to New York, Popinjay?"
"No, sir," said Betty, shyly, for she always felt as if the young man was poking fun at her.
"Then I 'll take you. Grace, you may go too, if you 'll be good; and, Brewster, I suppose we 'll have to have you along; Mr. Morris, of course; Margaret, if she likes; and will you go, mother?"
Mrs. Van Court said she felt it her duty to go, as she would be needed to look after such a frivolous party; but Miss Margaret declined, saying she would stay at home and keep house.
So the trip was arranged, and they were to start the next day.
"And now run to bed, Betty," said Mrs. Van Court; "it is already past the hour."
During the fortnight Betty had spent with them, Mrs. Van Court had undertaken to instruct her in at least the rudiments of good manners and social customs, and the child's ready adaptability and quick wit enabled her to do credit to her teacher.
Instead of her slangy, saucy ways, Betty had acquired a polite demeanor which, being modeled very carefully after Mrs. Van Court's, was perhaps over-dignified. This majestic air, when combined with Betty's queer grammar and occasional lapses into Irish idioms, amused Mr. Richard Van Court extremely, and he liked nothing better than to tease her until she lost her dignity and made sharp replies.
Then Mrs. Van Court would reprove them both, and send Richard away while she gave Betty a lesson in behavior. Her rules were very strict, too: Betty was not allowed at dinner when there were guests present, she was always sent to bed at eight o'clock, and in every way was treated as a well-brought-up little girl of fourteen ought to be.
She sometimes felt rebellious; but there were so many pleasures that they more than made up for the deprivations, and, too, Betty really wanted to learn the gentle and refined ways of those about her.
So, though she would have liked to stay up later, she said good night gracefully and went to her room.
There she found a good-sized box bearing the dressmaker's label, and she knew at once it was the traveling uit she was to wear to New York, and which Miss Grace had feared might not arrive in time. Betty opened the box, and removing the tissue-paper, saw a skirt of bright red silk. She was delighted beyond measure, for the Van Court ladies rarely allowed her to have her dresses as bright as she liked. They preferred to wear neutral tints themselves, and tried to persuade Betty that pale or subdued tones were in every way preferable to the gorgeous colors in which her soul delighted.
So the red silk skirt was a surprise, and Betty tried it on at once. The hooks were on the wrong side of the belt. "But," thought Betty, "sure, that 's the newfangled way. Every one of my frocks has some queer belongings to it."
The jacket was folded with the red silk inside; but she quickly whisked it out, turned the sleeves, and tried it on with a smile of real satisfaction.
"Miss Grace 'll say it does n't fit me," she thought, for the collar seemed a bit humpy. The jacket fastenings, which were pretty loops of black braid, were a little difficult to manage, being on the inside, but she finally conquered them. Then she took it off, and folded it neatly again in its box, and went to bed to dream of the wonderful New York trip.
Next morning Miss Grace popped her head in at Betty's door.
"Wake up," she said. "It 's a lovely day to start on our trip, and it is high time you were getting ready. Put on your new frock and hurry down-stairs so that I may see if it is all right."
"Yes, Miss Grace, dear; I 'll be down in a jiffy! " And Betty hopped up and made her toilet, all the while wondering what New York would be like. She managed the red silk dress more easily this time, but still thought it queer why it felt so uncomfortable.
However, she knew Miss Grace would make it all right somehow, and she ran down to the breakfast-room, where the family was already assembled.
"Why, Betty!" exclaimed Miss Margaret, "what have you done? You 'll spoil that dress!"
"Go up-stairs at once," said Mrs. Van Court, sternly, "and put it on properly."
Betty looked so amazed at these speeches, and then cast such a questioning glance at Miss Grace, that that lady burst into laughter, and was unable to speak for a moment.
"Popinjay," said Mr. Dick, gravely, "I don't know much about millinery; but as you seem to know even less, I will inform you that you have put on your frock inside out."
"I 'm sure I have n't!" exclaimed Betty, indignantly. "Have I, Miss Grace?"
"You certainly have, Betty. That red silk is the lining. Your suit is of blue cloth trimmed with black braid."
Then Miss Grace took Betty's hand, and they went up-stairs to right things.
Of course that explained the queer fastenings; but Betty was much disappointed to find herself wearing a dark-blue dress instead of a bright-red one, and in her secret heart she vowed to get a bright-red dress as soon as she had an opportunity.
In great good humor the party began their journey to New York.
Mr. Morris acted the part of courier, and flew around in his spasmodic way, buying tickets, checking luggage, and making himself generally useful. He took Betty under his special protection, while Mr. Van Court looked after his mother's comfort, and Mr. Brewster devoted himself to Miss Grace.
Betty was a little bewildered by all the noise and bustle, but enjoyed the trip thoroughly and was almost sorry when it was ended and the train rolled into the great train-shed in Jersey City.
Then they crossed the ferry, and Betty learned that the noise and confusion she had thought so great were as nothing to the clattering uproar of New York City.
They walked through a long, covered bridge that spanned a street instead of a river, and then went down some steps into another street that appeared to be packed full of people.
Mr. Morris grasped Betty's arm firmly, and together they plunged into the moving throng, and were almost carried along with it. "Bless my soul!" he said. "This won't do, this won't do. This is the day of the great parade, but I did n't suppose there 'd be such a crowduch an immense crowd! I was aiming for the elevated road; but we can't do it, we can't do it. We must take cabs."
However, there were no cabs to be had, the surface cars were crowded to their utmost capacity, and the steps of the elevated stations were thronged with people unable to get up to the platforms. "Well, well!" said Mr. Morris, "I never saw such a crowd—never! I must consult with Brewster and Dick."
He turned back to seek them, and Betty turned, too; but somehow the crowd surged between them, and the child was fairly swept off her feet and carried away, and when she touched the ground again Mr. Morris was nowhere to be seen. Betty was frightened, but she was not bewildered. She pushed along to a lamp-post near by, and clasped her arms tightly around it, thus anchoring herself as near as possible to the spot where Mr. Morris last saw her. She stood there until her arms were numb, hoping he would come; but he did not, and the crowd seemed to increase.
Then Betty set her wits to work. She knew she was lost in New York City, but she had perfect confidence that she would find her friends again in some way.
She had no money with her, as Mr. Morris had taken her purse in his pocket for safe-keeping. But she knew that while in New York they were to stay at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and though she had no idea where that was located, she felt sure that she could succeed in getting there, and that was her best chance of being found.
She glanced at the people who stood nearest her, and decided upon a newsboy as the most promising aid.
"Say, young fellow, how do you get to the Fifth Av'noo Hotel?" she said, unconsciously lapsing into Lame Jack's vernacular in consideration of the type she was addressing.
Now, a New York newsboy is not easily surprised, but to hear such a well-dressed little girl using his own lingo was rather startling.
But, though totally unaware of it, Betty had assumed something of Mrs. Van Court's aristocratic pose and expression, and observing this, the boy refrained from chaffing.
"Take the Sixt' Av'noo L up to Twenty-third Street, an' then walk acrost," he said briefly; and Betty made up her mind she would do it.
"Where do you take the Sixt' Av'noo L?" she further demanded.
"Right up there," said the boy, grinning, as he pointed to the stairs, not ten feet away, but so packed with people that it seemed vain to attempt to reach them.
But just then the music of a brass band was heard, and a company of soldiers came marching along.
As if by magic the policemen cleared the stairs, and the captain of the company started up, leading his men.
Like a flash Betty darted to the captain's side.
"Oh, please, sir, can't I go up with you?" she asked. "I 'm lost, and I must find my people."
"Can you be a soldier?" said the kind old captain, looking at her quizzically.
"I can keep step an' obey orders, sir," said she, quickly, "if that's what it means."
"That's all there is to it," said the captain, laughing; "walk by me."
And marching at the captain's side to the music of the band, Betty mounted the stairs and walked along the platform.
The train which was waiting seemed well filled already, but the company managed to get on somehow.
Unheeding the closed gates, they jumped over them and on to the platforms. Betty suddenly felt herself lifted into the air and swung over a gate, and the next moment the train had started, and she discovered she was on the front platform of the front car, with the captain and seven other soldiers.
The men were as deferential as if she had been the daughter of the regiment, and the ride up-town was exciting and splendid. She told her story, and the captain ordered a detachment of his troops to escort her from the station at Twenty-third Street to her hotel.
After learning at the office that none of the Greenborough party had arrived, the soldiers took Betty to the parlor.
Here she dismissed them politely, saying she was not afraid to stay alone, and she was sure her friends would soon arrive.
So with grave and respectful salutes the guard departed, and Betty sat contentedly on a huge red velvet sofa and waited.
...to be continued
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