Betty Leicester: A Story For Girls

by Harriet Pyne Grove

  Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive)

  BETTY LEICESTER

  Books by Sarah Orne Jewett

  STORIES AND TALES. 7 vols. Illustrated.

  THE LETTERS OF SARAH ORNE JEWETT. Illustrated.

  THE TORY LOVER. Illustrated.

  THE QUEEN'S TWIN AND OTHER STORIES.

  THE COUNTRY OF THE POINTED FIRS.

  DEEPHAVEN. _Holiday Edition._ With 52 illustrations. Attractively bound.

  OLD FRIENDS AND NEW.

  COUNTRY BY-WAYS.

  THE MATE OF THE DAYLIGHT, AND FRIENDS ASHORE.

  A COUNTRY DOCTOR. A Novel.

  A MARSH ISLAND. A Novel.

  A WHITE HERON AND OTHER STORIES.

  THE KING OF FOLLY ISLAND, AND OTHER PEOPLE.

  STRANGERS AND WAYFARERS.

  A NATIVE OF WINBY, AND OTHER TALES.

  THE LIFE OF NANCY.

  TALES OF NEW ENGLAND. THE SAME. In Riverside Aldine Series. In Riverside School Library.

  PLAY-DAYS. Stories for Girls.

  BETTY LEICESTER. A Story for Girls.

  BETTY LEICESTER'S CHRISTMAS. Illustrated.

  HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON AND NEW YORK

  BETTY LEICESTER

  _A STORY FOR GIRLS_

  BY

  SARAH ORNE JEWETT

  BOSTON AND NEW YORK

  HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

  The Riverside Press Cambridge

  COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY SARAH ORNE JEWETT

  COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY MARY R. JEWETT

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  The Riverside Press

  CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS

  PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

  WITH LOVE TO

  M. G. L.

  ONE OF THE FIRST OF BETTY'S FRIENDS

  CONTENTS.

  PAGE I. AS FAR AS RIVERPORT 1 II. THE PACKET BOAT 17 III. A BIT OF COLOR 28 IV. TIDESHEAD 40 V. AT BECKY'S HOUSE 50 VI. THE GARDEN TEA 60 VII. THE SIN BOOKS 72 VIII. A CHAPTER OF LETTERS 93 IX. BETTY'S REFLECTIONS 108 X. UP-COUNTRY 137 XI. THE TWO FRIENDS 158 XII. BETTY AT HOME 171 XIII. A GREAT EXCITEMENT 185 XIV. THE OUT-OF-DOOR CLUB 209 XV. THE STARLIGHT COMES IN 221 XVI. DOWN THE RIVER 239 XVII. GOING AWAY 276

  BETTY LEICESTER.

  I.

  AS FAR AS RIVERPORT.

  TWO persons sat at a small breakfast-table near an open window, high upin Young's Hotel in Boston. It was a pleasant June morning, just aftereight o'clock, and they could see the white clouds blowing over; but thegray walls of the Court House were just opposite, so that one cannot saymuch of their view of the world. The room was pleasanter than most hotelrooms, and the persons at breakfast were a girl of fifteen, named BettyLeicester, and her father. Their friends thought them both good-looking,but it ought to be revealed in this story just what sort of good looksthey had, since character makes the expression of people's faces. Butthis we can say, to begin with: they had eyes very much alike, verykind and frank and pleasant, and they had a good fresh color, as if theyspent much time out-of-doors. In fact, they were just off the sea,having come in only two days before on the Catalonia from Liverpool; andthe Catalonia, though very comfortable, had made a slower voyage thansome steamers do in coming across.

  They had nearly finished breakfast, but Betty was buttering one morenice bit of toast to finish her marmalade, while Mr. Leicester helpedhimself to more strawberries. They both looked a little grave, as ifsomething important were to be done when breakfast was over; and if youhad sat in the third place by the table, and, instead of looking out ofthe window, had looked to right and left into the bedrooms that openedat either hand, you would guess the reason. In Betty's room, on hertable, were ulster and her umbrella and her traveling-bag beside abasket, these last being labeled "Miss E. Leicester, Tideshead;" and inthe room opposite was a corresponding array, excepting that the labelsread, "T. Leicester, Windsor Hotel, Montreal." So for once the girl andher father were going in different directions.

  "Papa, dear," said Betty, "how long will it be before you can tell aboutcoming back from Alaska?"

  "Perhaps I shall know in a month," said Mr. Leicester; "but youunderstand that it will not be like a journey through civilizedcountries, and there are likely to be many hindrances and delays.Beside, you must count upon our finding everything enormouslyinteresting. I shall try hard not to forget how interesting a waitingyoung somebody called Betty is!"

  Betty made an attempt to smile, but she began to feel very dismal. "Theaunts will ask me, you know, papa dear," she said. "I am sure that AuntBarbara felt a little grumpy about your not coming now."

  "Dear Aunt Barbara!" said Mr. Leicester seriously; "I wish that I couldhave managed it, but I will stay long enough to make up, when I get backfrom the North."

  "Your birthday is the first of September; thirty-nine this year, youpoor old thing! Oh if we could only have the day in Tideshead, it wouldbe such fun!" Betty looked more cheerful again with this hope takingpossession of her mind.

  "You are always insisting upon my having a new birthday!" said Mr.Leicester, determined upon being cheerful too. "You will soon be callingme your grandfather. I mean to expect a gold-headed cane for my presentthis year. Now we must be getting ready for the station, dear child. Iam sure that we shall miss each other, but I will do things for you andyou will do things for me, won't you, Betsey?" and he kissed heraffectionately, while Betty clung fast to him with both arms tight roundhis neck. Somehow she never had felt so badly at saying good-by.

  "And you will be very good to the old aunts? Remember how fond they havealways been of your dear mamma and of me, and how ready they are to giveyou all their love. I think you can grow to be a very great comfort tothem and a new pleasure. They must really need you to play with."

  There was a loud knock at the door; the porter came in and carried awaya high-heaped armful from Betty's room. "Carriage is ready at the door,sir," he said. "Plenty of time, sir;" and then went hurrying away againto summon somebody else. Betty's eyes were full of tears when she cameout of her room and met papa, who was just looking at his watch in thelittle parlor.

  "Say 'God bless you, Betty,'" she managed to ask.

  "God bless you, Betty, my dear Betty!" Mr. Leicester said gravely. "Godbless you, dear, and make you a blessing."

  "Papa dear, I wasn't really crying. You know that you're coming backwithin three months, and we shall be writing letters all the time, andTideshead isn't like a strange place."

  "Dear me, no! you'll never wish to come away from Tideshead; give it mylove, and 'call every bush my cousin,'" answered Mr. Leicester gayly asthey went down in the elevator. The trying moment of the real good-bywas over, and the excitement and interest of Betty's journey had begun.She liked the elevator boy and had time to find a bit of money for him,that being the best way to recognize his politeness and patience. "Thankyou; good-by," she said pleasantly as she put it into his hand. She washoarding the minutes that were left, and tried to remember the thingsthat she wished to say to papa as they drove to the Eastern Station; butthe minutes flew by, and presently Mr. Leicester was left on theplatform alone, while the cars moved away with his girl. She waved herhand and papa lifted his hat once more, though he had already lost sightof her, and so they parted. The girl thought it was very hard. Shewondered all over again if she c
ouldn't possibly have gone on the longjourney to the far North which she had heard discussed so often and withsuch enthusiasm. It seemed wrong and unnatural that she and her fathershould not always be together everywhere.

  It was very comfortable in the train, and the tide was high among thegreat marshes. The car was not very full at first, but at one or twostations there were crowds of people, and Betty soon had a seat-mate, agood-natured looking, stout woman, who was inclined to be very sociable.She was a little out of breath and much excited.

  "Would you like to sit next the window?" inquired Betty.

  "No, lem me set where I be," replied the anxious traveler. "'Tis as wellone place as another. I feel terrible unsartin' on the cars. I don'texpect you do?"

  "Not very," said Betty. "I have never had anything happen."

  "You b'en on 'em before, then?"

  "Oh, yes, indeed," said Betty.

  "Ever b'en in Boston?--perhaps you come from that way?"

  "I came from there this morning, but I am on my way from London toTideshead." Somehow this announcement sounded ostentatious, and Betty,being modest, regretted it.

  "What London do you refer to?" asked the woman, and, having beenanswered, said, "Oh, bless ye! when it comes to seafarin' I'm right tohome, I tell you. I didn't know but you'd had to come from some o' themLondons out West; all the way by cars. I've got a sister that lives toLondon, Iowy; she comes East every three or four year; passes two daysan' two nights, I believe 't is, on the cars; makes nothin' of it. Iain't been no great of a traveler. Creation's real queer, _ain't_ it!"

  Betty's fellow-traveler was looking earnestly at the green fields, andseemed to express everything she felt of wonder and interest by her lastremark, to which Betty answered "yes," with a great shake oflaughter--and hoped that there would be still more to say.

  "Have you been to sea a good deal?" she asked.

  "Lor' yes, dear. Father owned two thirds o' the ship I was born on, andbought into another when she got old, an' I was married off o' her; theSea Queen, Dexter, master, _she_ was. Then I sailed 'long o' my husbandtill the child'n begun to come an' I found there was some advantages inbringin' up a family on shore, so I settled down for a spell; but justas I got round to leavin' and goin' back, my husband got tired o' thesea and shippin' all run down, so home he come, and you wouldn't know usnow from shorefolks. Pretty good sailor, be ye?" (looking at Bettysharply).

  "Yes, I love the sea," said Betty.

  "I want to know," said her new friend admiringly, and then took a longbreath and got out of her gloves.

  "Your father a shipmaster?" she continued.

  "No," said Betty humbly.

  "What trade does he follow?"

  "He has written some books; he is a naturalist; but papa can do almostanything," replied Betty proudly.

  "I want to know," said the traveler again. "Well, I don't realize justwhat naturalists hold to; there's too many sects a-goin' nowadays forme. I was brought up good old-fashioned Methodist, but this very mornin'in the depot I was speakin' with a stranger that said she was aCalvin-Advent, and they was increasin' fast. She did 'pear as well asanybody; a nice appearin' woman. Well, there's room for all."

  Betty was forced to smile, and tried to hide her face by looking out ofthe window. Just then the conductor kindly appeared, and so she pulledher face straight again.

  "Ain't got no brothers an' sisters?" asked the funny old soul.

  "No," said Betty. "Papa and I are all alone."

  "Mother ain't livin'?" and the kind homely face turned quickly towardher.

  "She died when I was a baby."

  "My sakes, how you talk! You don't feel to miss her, but she would haveset everything by you." (There was something truly affectionate in theway this was said.) "All my child'n are married off," she continued."The house seems too big now. I do' know but what, if you don't likewhere you're goin', I will take ye in, long's you feel to stop."

  "Oh, thank you," said Betty gratefully. "I'm sure I should have a goodtime. I'm going to stay with my grandaunts this summer. My father hasgone to Alaska."

  "Oh, I do feel to hope it's by sea!" exclaimed the listener.

  The cars rattled along and the country grew greener and greener. Bettyremembered it very well, although she had not seen it for four years, solong it was since she had been in Tideshead before. After seeing thestonewalled and thatched or tiled roofs of foreign countries, the woodenbuildings of New England had a fragile look as if the wind and rainwould soon spoil and scatter them. The villages and everything but someof the very oldest farms looked so new and so temporary that BettyLeicester was much surprised, knowing well that she was going throughsome of the very oldest New England towns. She had a delightful sense ofgetting home again, which would have pleased her loyal father, andindeed Betty herself believed that she could not be proud enough of hernative land. Papa always said the faults of a young country were so muchbetter than the faults of an old one. However, when the train crossed abridge near a certain harbor on the way and the young traveler saw anEnglish flag flying on a ship, it looked very pleasant and familiar.

  The morning was growing hot, and the good seafarer in the seat besideour friend seemed to grow very uncomfortable. Her dress was too thick,and she was trying to hold on her bonnet with her chin, though itslipped back farther and farther. Somehow a great many women in the carlooked very warm and wretched in thick woolen gowns and unsteadybonnets. Nobody looked as if she were out on a pleasant holiday exceptone neighbor, a brisk little person with a canary bird and an Indianbasket, out of which she now and then let a kitten's head appear, longenough to be patted and then tucked back again.

  Betty's companion caught sight of this smiling neighbor after a time andexpressed herself as surprised that anybody should take the trouble tocart a kitten from town to town, when there were two to every emptysaucer already. Betty laughed and supposed that she didn't like cats,and was answered gruffly that they were well enough in their place. Itwas one of our friend's griefs that she never was sure of being longenough in one place to keep a kitten of her own, but the pleasantthought came that she was almost sure to find some at Aunt Barbara'swhere she was going.

  It was not time to feel hungry, but Betty caught sight of a paper boxwhich the waiter had brought to the carriage just as she was leaving thehotel. She was having a hot and dusty search under the car-seat for thesailor woman's purse, which had suddenly gone overboard from the upperdeck of her wide lap, but it was found at last, and Betty produced theluncheon-box too and opened it. Her new friend looked on with deepinterest. "I'm only goin's far as Newburyport," she explained eagerly,"so I'm not provided."

  "Papa knew that I should be hungry by noon," said Betty. "We always trynot to get too hungry when we are traveling because one gets so muchmore tired. I always carry some chocolate in my bag."

  "I expect you've had sights of experience. You ain't be'n kep' short,that's plain. They ain't many young gals looks so rugged. Enjoy goodhealth, dear, don't ye?" which Betty answered with enthusiasm.

  The luncheon looked very inviting and Betty offered a share mosthospitably, and in spite of its only being a quarter before eleven whenthe feast began, the chicken sandwiches entirely disappeared. There wereonly four, and half a dozen small sponge-cakes which proved to besomewhat dry and unattractive.

  "I only laid in a light breakfast," apologized Betty's guest. "I'mobliged to you, I'm sure, but then I wa' n't nigh so hungry as when Igot adrift once, in an open boat, for two days and a night, and theygive me up"--

  But at this moment the train man shouted "Newburyport," as if there werenot a minute to be lost, and the good soul gathered her possessions ina great hurry, dropping her purse again twice, and letting fall bits ofbroken sentences with it from which Betty could gather only "The fogcome in," and "coast o' France," and then, as they said good-by, "'t wasso divertin' ridin' along that I took no note of stoppin'." After theyhad parted affectionately, she stood for a minute or two at the door ofthe still moving train, nodding and
bobbing her kind old head at heryoung fellow-passenger whenever they caught each other's eye. Betty wassorry to lose this new friend so soon, and felt more lonely than ever.She wished that they had known each other's names, and especially thatthere had been time to hear the whole of the boat story.

  Now that there was no one else in the car seat it seemed to be a goodtime to look over some things in the pretty London traveling bag, whichhad been pushed under its owner's feet until then. Betty found a smallbit of chocolate for herself by way of dessert to the early luncheon,and made an entry in a tidy little account book which she meant to keepcarefully until she should be with papa again. It was a veryinteresting bag, with a dressing-case fitted into it and a writing case,all furnished with glass and ivory and silver fittings and yet veryplain, and nice, and convenient. Betty's dear friend, Mrs. Duncan, hadgiven it to her that very spring, before she thought of coming toAmerica, and on the voyage it had been worth its weight in gold. Out oflong experience the young traveler had learned not to burden herselfwith too many things, but all her belongings had some pleasantassociations: her button-hook was bought in Amsterdam, and a queerlittle silver box for buttons came from a village very far north inNorway, while a useful jackknife had been found in Spain, although itbore J. Crookes of Sheffield's name on the haft. Somehow the travelingbag itself brought up Mrs. Duncan's dear face, and Betty's eyesglistened with tears for one moment. The Duncan girls were her bestfriends, and she had had lessons with them for many months at a time inthe last few years, so they had the strong bond in friendship of havingworked as well as played together. But Mrs. Duncan had been verymotherly and dear to our friend, and just now seemed nearer and morehelpful than ever. The train whistled along and the homesick feelingsoon passed, though Betty remembered that Mrs. Duncan had said once thatwherever you may put two persons one is always hostess and the otheralways guest, either from circumstances alone or from their differentnatures, and they must be careful about their duties to each other.Betty had not quite understood this when she heard it said, though thewords had stayed in her mind. Now the meaning flashed clearly into herthought, and she was pleased to think that she had just now been the onewho knew most about traveling. She wished so much that she could havebeen of more use to the old lady, but after all she seemed to have agood little journey, and Betty hoped that she could remember all aboutthis droll companion when she was writing, at her own journey's end, topapa.