by Roy J. Snell
II
Betty Leicester, in a new winter gown which had just been sent home fromLiberty's, with all desirable qualities of color, and a fine expanse ofsmocking at the yoke, and some sprigs of embroidery for ornament inproper places, was yet an unhappy Betty. In spite of being not onlyfine, but snug and warm as one always feels when cold weather firstcomes and one gets into a winter dress, everything seemed disappointing.The weather was shivery and dark, the street into which she was lookingwas narrow and gloomy, and there was a moment when Betty thoughtwistfully of Tideshead as if there were no December there, and only thehigh, clear September sky that she had left. Somehow, all out-of-doorlife appeared to have come to an end, and she felt as if she were shutinto a dark and wintry prison. Not long before this she had come fromWhitby, the charming red-roofed Yorkshire fishing-town that foreverclimbs the hill to its gray abbey. There were flocks of young people atWhitby that autumn, and Betty had lived out of doors in pleasant companyto her heart's content, and tramped about the moors and along the cliffswith gay parties, and played golf and cricket, and helped to plan somegreat excitement or lively excursion for almost every day. There is afunny, dancing-step sort of walk, set to the tune of "Humpty-Dumpty,"which seems to belong with the Whitby walking-sticks which everybodycarries; you lock arms in lines across the road, and keep step to thegay chant of the dismal nursery lines, and the faster you go, especiallywhen you are tired, the more it seems to rest you (or that's what somepeople think) in the long walks home. Whitby was almost as good asTideshead, to which lovely town Betty now compared every other, evenLondon itself.
Betty and her father had not yet gone to housekeeping by themselves(which made them very happy later on), but they were living in somefamiliar old Clarges Street lodgings convenient to the Green Park, whereBetty could go for a consoling scamper with a new dog called "Toby"because he looked so exactly like the beloved Toby on the cover of"Punch." Betty had spent a whole morning's work upon a proper belledruff for Toby, who gravely sat up and wore it as if he were conscious ofliterary responsibilities.
Papa had gone to the British Museum that rainy morning, and was notlikely to reappear before the close of day. For a wonder, he was goingto dine at home that night. Something very interesting to the scientificworld had happened to him during his summer visit to Alaska, and itseemed as if every one of his scientific friends had also made somediscovery, or something had happened to each one, which made many talksand dinners and club meetings delightfully important. But most of theLondon people were in the country; for in England they stay in the hottown until July or August, while all Americans scatter among greenfields or seashore places; and then spend the gloomy months of the yearin their country houses, when we fly back to the shelter and music andpictures and companionship of town life. This all depends upon themeeting of parliament and other great reasons; but even Betty Leicesterfelt quite left out and lonely in town that dark day. Her best friends,the Duncans, were at their great house in Warwickshire. She was going tostay with them for a month, but not just yet; while her father was soongoing to pay a short visit to a very great lady indeed at DaneslyCastle, just this side the Border.
This "very great lady indeed" was perfectly charming to our friend; asmile or a bow from her was just then more than anything else to Betty.We all know how perfectly delightful it is to love some one so much thatwe keep dreaming of her a little all the time, and what happiness itgives when the least thing one has to do with her is a perfectly goldenjoy. Betty loved Mrs. Duncan fondly and constantly, and she loved AuntBarbara with a spark of true enchantment and eager desire to please;but for this new friend, for Lady Mary Danesly (who was Mrs. Duncan'scousin), there was something quite different in her heart. As she stoodby the window in Clarges Street she was thinking of this lovely friend,and wishing for once that she herself was older, so that perhaps shemight have been asked to come with papa for a week's visit at Christmas.But Lady Mary would be busy enough with her great house-party ofdistinguished people. Once she had been so delightful as to say thatBetty must some day come to Danesly with her father, but of course thiscould not be the time. Miss Day, Betty's old governess, who now livedwith her mother in one of the suburbs of London, was always ready tocome to spend a week or two if Betty were to be left alone, and it waspleasanter every year to try to make Miss Day have a good time as wellas to have one one's self; but, somehow, a feeling of having outgrownMiss Day was hard to bear. They had not much to talk about except thepast, and what they used to do; and when friendship comes to this alone,it may be dear, but is never the best sort.
The fog was blowing out of the street, and the window against whichBetty leaned was suddenly flecked with raindrops. A telegraph boy cameround the corner as if the gust of wind had brought him, and ran towardthe steps; presently the maid brought in a telegram to Betty, whohastened to open it, as she was always commissioned to do in herfather's absence. To her surprise it was meant for herself. She lookedat the envelope to make sure. It was from Lady Mary.
_Can you come to me with your father next week, dear? I wish for you very much._
"There's no answer--at least there's no answer now," said Betty, quitetrembling with excitement and pleasure; "I must see papa first, but Ican't think that he will say no. He meant to come home for Christmas daywith me, and now we can both stay on." She hopped about, dancing andskipping, after the door was shut. What a thing it is to have one'swishes come true before one's eyes! And then she asked to have a hansomcab called and for the company of Pagot, who was her maid now; a verynice woman whom Mrs. Duncan had recommended, in as much as Betty wasolder and had thoughts of going to housekeeping. Pagot's sister also wasengaged as housemaid, and, strange as it may appear, our Tideshead Bettywas to become the mistress of a cook and butler. Pagot herself lookedsedate and responsible, but she dearly liked a little change and wasfinding the day dull. So they started off together toward the BritishMuseum in all the rain, with the shutter of the cab put down and thehorse trotting along the shining streets as if he liked it.
