by Roy J. Snell
VI
The next day at about nine o'clock Lady Mary came through hermorning-room and tapped at the door. Betty was just ready and very gladto say good-morning. The sun was shining, and she had been leaning outupon the great stone window-sill looking down the long slopes of thecountry into the wintry mists. Lady Mary looked out too, and took a longbreath of the fresh, keen air. "It's a good day for hunting," she said,"and for walking. I'm going down to breakfast, because I have plannedfor an idle day. I thought we might go down together if you were ready."
Betty's heart was filled with gratitude; it was so very kind of herhostess to remember that it would be difficult for the only girl in thehouse party to come alone to breakfast for the first time. They wentalong the corridor and down the great staircase, past the portraits andthe marble busts and figures on the landings. There were two or threeladies in the great hall at the foot, with an air of being very early,and some gentlemen who were going fox hunting; and after Betty hadspoken with Lady Dimdale, whom she knew, they sauntered into thebreakfast-room, where they found some other people; and papa and Bettyhad a word together and then sat down side by side to their muffins andtheir eggs and toast and marmalade. It was not a bit like a Tidesheadcompany breakfast. Everybody jumped up if he wished for a plate, or formore jam, or some cold game, which was on the sideboard with many otherthings. The company of servants had disappeared, and it was all asunceremonious as if the breakfasters were lunching out of doors. Therewas not a long tableful like that of the night before; many of theguests were taking their tea and coffee in their own rooms.
By the time breakfast was done, Betty had begun to forget herself as ifshe were quite at home. She stole an affectionate glance now and thenat Lady Mary, and had fine bits of talk with her father, who had spent acharming evening and now told Betty something about it, and how glad hewas to have her see their fellow guests. When he went hurrying away tojoin the hunt, Betty was sure that she knew exactly what to do withherself. It would take her a long time to see the huge old house and thepicture gallery, where there were some very famous paintings, and thelibrary, about which papa was always so enthusiastic. Lady Mary was toher more interesting than anybody else, and she wished especially to dosomething for Lady Mary. Aunt Barbara had helped her niece very much oneday in Tideshead when she talked about her own experience in makingvisits and going much into company. "The best thing you can do," shesaid, "is to do everything you can to help your hostess. Don't wait tosee what is going to be done for you, but try to help entertain yourfellow guests and to make the moment pleasant, and you will be sure toenjoy yourself and to find your hostess wishing you to come again.Always do the things that will help your hostess." Our friend thought ofthis sage advice now, but it was at a moment when every one else wasbusy talking, and they were all going on to the great library except twoor three late breakfasters who were still at the table. Aunt Barbara hadalso said that when there was nothing else to do, your plain duty was toentertain yourself; and, having a natural gift for this, Betty wanderedoff into a corner and found a new "Punch" and some of the Americanmagazines on a little table close by the window-seat. After a while shehappened to hear some one ask: "What time is Mr. Banfield coming?"
"By the eleven o'clock train," said Lady Mary. "I am just watching forthe carriage that is to fetch him. Look; you can see it first betweenthe two oaks there to the left. It is an awkward time to get to astrange house, poor man; but they were in the South and took a nighttrain that is very slow. Mr. Banfield's daughter is with him, and mydear friend Betty, who knows what American girls like best, is kindlygoing to help me entertain her."
"Oh, really!" said one of the ladies, looking up and smiling as if shehad been wondering just what Betty was for, all alone in the grown-uphouse party. "Really, that's very nice. But I might have seen that youare Mr. Leicester's daughter. It was very stupid of me, my dear; you'requite like him--oh, quite!"
"I have seen you with the Duncans, have I not?" asked some one else,with great interest. "Why, fancy!" said this friendly person, who wasnamed the Honorable Miss Northumberland, a small, eager little lady inspite of her solemn great name,--"fancy! you must be an American too. Ishould have thought you quite an English girl."
"Oh, no, indeed," said Betty. "Indeed, I'm quite American, except forliving in England a very great deal." She was ready to go on and saymuch more, but she had been taught to say as little about herself asshe possibly could, since general society cares little for knowledgethat is given it too easily, especially about strangers and one's self!
"There's the carriage now," said Lady Mary, as she went away to welcomethe guests. "Poor souls! they will like to get to their rooms as soon aspossible," she said hospitably; but although the elder ladies did notstir, Betty deeply considered the situation, and then, with a happyimpulse, hurried after her hostess. It was a long way about, through twoor three rooms and the great hall to the entrance; but Betty overtookLady Mary just as she reached the great door, going forward in the mosthospitable, charming way to meet the new-comers. She did not seem tohave seen Betty at all.
The famous lawyer, Mr. Banfield, came quickly up the steps, and afterhim, more slowly, came his daughter, whom he seemed quite to forget.
A footman was trying to take her wraps and traveling-bag, but she clungfast to them, and looked up apprehensively toward Lady Mary.
Betty was very sympathetic, and was sure that it was a trying moment,and she ran down to meet Miss Banfield, and happened to be so fortunateas to catch her just as she was tripping over her dress upon the highstone step. Mr. Banfield himself was well known in London, and was agreat favorite in society; but at first sight his daughter'sself-conscious manners struck one as being less interesting. She was apretty girl, but she wore a pretentious look, which was further borneout by very noticeable clothes--not at all the right things to travel inat that hour; but, as has long ago been said, Betty saw at once thelikeness to her Tideshead friend and comrade, Mary Beck, and opened herheart to take the stranger in. It was impossible not to be reminded ofthe day when Mary Beck came to call in Tideshead, with her best hat andbird-of-paradise feather, and they both felt so awkward and miserable.
"Did you have a very tiresome journey?" Betty was asking as theyreached the top of the steps at last; but Edith Banfield's reply wasindistinct, and the next moment Lady Mary turned to greet her youngguest cordially. Betty felt that she was a little dismayed, and was allthe more eager to have the young compatriot's way made easy.
"Did you have a tiresome journey?" asked Lady Mary, in her turn; but thereply was quite audible now.
"Oh, yes," said Edith. "It was awfully cold--oh, awfully!--and so smokyand horrid and dirty! I thought we never should get here, with changingcars in horrid stations, and everything," she said, telling all aboutit.
"Oh, that was too bad," said Betty, rushing to the rescue, while LadyMary walked on with Mr. Banfield. Edith Banfield talked on in anexcited, persistent way to Betty, after having finally yielded up herbag to the footman, and looking after him somewhat anxiously. "It's asplendid big house, isn't it?" she whispered; "but awfully solemnlooking. I suppose there's another part where they live, isn't there?Have you been here before? Are you English?"
"I'm Betty Leicester," said Betty, in an undertone. "No, I haven't beenhere before; but I have known Lady Mary for a long time in London. I'man American, too."
"You aren't, really!" exclaimed Edith. "Why, you must have been overhere a good many times, or something"--She cast a glance at Betty'splain woolen gear, and recognized the general comfortable appearance ofthe English schoolgirl. Edith herself was very fine in silk attire, withmuch fur trimming and a very expensive hat. "Well, I'm awfully gladyou're here," she said, with a satisfied sigh; "you know all about itbetter than I do, and can tell me what to put on."
"Oh, yes, indeed," said Betty cheerfully; "and there are lots of nicethings to do. We can see the people, and then there are all the picturesand the great conservatories, and the stables and dogs and everything.I
've been waiting to see them with you; and we can ride every day, ifyou like; and papa says it's a perfectly delightful country forwalking."
"I hate to walk," said Edith frankly.
"Oh, what a pity," lamented Betty, a good deal dashed. She was strivingagainst a very present disappointment, but still the fact could not beoverlooked that Edith Banfield looked like Mary Beck. Now, Mary also wasapt to distrust all strangers and to take suspicious views of life, andshe had little enthusiasm; but Betty knew and loved her loyalty andreally good heart. She felt sometimes as if she tried to walk in tightshoes when "Becky's" opinions had to be considered; but Becky's worldhad grown wider month by month, and she loved her very much. EdithBanfield was very pretty; that was a comfort, and though Betty mightnever like her as she did Mary Beck, she meant more than ever to helpher to have a good visit.
Lady Mary appeared again, having given Mr. Banfield into the youngfootman's charge. She looked at Sister Betty for an instant with anaffectionate, amused little smile, and kept one hand on her shoulder asshe talked for a minute pleasantly with the new guest.
A maid appeared to take Edith to her room, and Lady Mary patted Betty'sshoulder as they parted. They did not happen to have time for a wordtogether again all day.
By luncheon time the two girls were very good friends, and Betty knewall about the new-comer; and in spite of a succession of minordisappointments, the acquaintance promised to be very pleasant. PoorEdith Banfield, like poor Betty, had no mother, but Edith had spentseveral years already at a large boarding-school. She was taking thisjourney by way of vacation, and was going back after the Christmasholidays. She was a New-Yorker, and she hated the country, and loved tostay in foreign hotels. This was the first time she had ever paid avisit in England, except to some American friends who had a villa on theThames, which Edith had found quite dull. She had not been taught eitherto admire or to enjoy very much, which seemed to make her schoolingcount for but little so far; but she adored her father and hisbrilliant wit in a most lovely way, and with this affection and prideBetty could warmly sympathize. Edith longed to please her father inevery possible fashion, and secretly confessed that she did not alwayssucceed, in a way that touched Betty's heart. It was hard to knowexactly how to please the busy man; he was apt to show only a mildinterest in the new clothes which at present were her chief joy; perhapsshe was always making the mistake of not so much trying to please him asto make him pleased with herself, which is quite a different thing.
