"Yes, ma'am," said he, bowing very gracefully toward her.
"Any kin to the governor that was?"
"No, ma'am, none whatever," and the white teeth became slightly visible for a moment, but soon disappeared.
"You are from Rockford, 'Lena tells me?"
"Yes, ma'am. Have you friends there?"
"Yes--or that is, Nancy Scovandyke's sister, Betsy Scovandyke that used to be, lives there. May be you know her. Her name is Bacon--Betsy Bacon. She's a widder and keeps boarders."
"Ah," said he, the teeth this time becoming wholly visible, "I've heard of Mrs. Bacon, but have not the honor of her acquaintance. You are from the east, I perceive."
"Law, now! how did you know that!" asked Mrs. Nichols, while Mr. Everett answered, "I guessed at it," with a peculiar emphasis on the word guessed, which led 'Lena to think he had used it purposely and not from habit.
Mr. Everett possessed in a remarkable degree the faculty of making those around him both respect and like him, and ere six weeks had passed, he had won the love of all his pupils. Even John Jr. was greatly improved, and Carrie seemed suddenly reawakened into a thirst for knowledge, deeming no task too long, and no amount of study too hard, if it won the commendation of her teacher. 'Lena, who committed to memory with great ease, and who consequently did not deserve so much credit for her always perfect lessons, seldom received a word of praise, while poor Anna, notoriously lazy when books were concerned, cried almost every day, because as she said, "Mr. Everett didn't like her as he did the rest, else why did he look at her so much, watching her all the while, and keeping her after school to get her lessons over, when he knew how she hated them."
Once Mrs. Livingstone ventured to remonstrate, telling him that Anna was very sensitive, and required altogether different treatment from Carrie. "She thinks you dislike her," said she, "and while she retains this impression, she will do nothing as far as learning is concerned; so if you do not like her, try and make her think you do!"
There was a peculiar look in Mr. Everett's dark eyes as he answered, "You may think it strange, Mrs. Livingstone, but of all my pupils I love Anna the best! I know I find more fault with her, and am perhaps more severe with her than with the rest, but it's because I would make her what I wish her to be. Pardon me, madam, but Anna does not possess the same amount of intellect with her cousin or sister, but by proper culture she will make a fine, intelligent woman."
Mrs. Livingstone hardly relished being told that one child was inferior to the other, but she could not well help herself--Mr. Everett would say what he pleased--and thus the conference ended. From that time Mr. Everett was exceedingly kind to Anna, wiping away the tears which invariably came when told that she must stay with him in the school-room after the rest were gone; then, instead of seating himself in rigid silence at a distance until her task was learned, he would sit by her side, occasionally smoothing her long curls and speaking encouragingly to her as she pored over some hard rule of grammar, or puzzled her brains with some difficult problem in Colburn. Erelong the result of all this became manifest. Anna grew fonder of her books, more ready to learn, and--more willing to be kept after school!
Ah, little did Mrs. Livingstone think what she was doing when she bade young Malcolm Everett make her warm-hearted, impulsive daughter think he liked her!
CHAPTER VIII.
SCHEMING.
"Mother, where's 'Lena's dress? Hasn't she got any?" asked Anna, one morning, about two weeks before Christmas, as she bent over a promiscuous pile of merinoes, delaines, and plaid silks, her own and Carrie's dresses for the coming holidays. "Say, mother, didn't you buy 'Lena any?"
Thus interrogated, Mrs. Livingstone replied, "I wonder if you think I'm made of money! 'Lena is indebted to me now for more than she can ever pay. As long as I give her a home and am at so much expense in educating her, she of course can't expect me to dress her as I do you. There's Carrie's brown delaine and your blue one, which I intend to have made over for her, and she ought to be satisfied with that, for they are much better than anything she had when she came here."
And the lady glanced toward the spot where 'Lena sat, admiring the new things, in which she had no share, and longing to ask the question which Anna had asked for her, and which had now been answered. John Jr., who was present, and who knew that Mr. Everett had been engaged to teach in the family long before it was known that 'Lena was coming, now said to his cousin, who arose to leave, "Yes, 'Lena, mother's a model of generosity, and you'll never be able to repay her for her kindness in allowing you to wear the girls' old duds, which would otherwise be given to the blacks, and in permitting you to recite to Mr. Everett, who, of course, was hired on your account."
The slamming together of the door as 'Lena left the room brought the young gentleman's remarks to a close, and wishing to escape the lecture which he saw was preparing for him, he, too, made his exit.
Christmas was coming, and with it Durward Bellmont, and about his coming Mrs. Livingstone felt some little anxiety. Always scheming, and always looking ahead, she was expecting great results from this visit. Durward was not only immensely wealthy, but was also descended on his father's side from one of England's noblemen. Altogether he was, she thought, a "decided catch," and though he was now only sixteen, while Carrie was but thirteen, lifelong impressions had been made at even an earlier period, and Mrs. Livingstone resolved that her pretty daughter should at least have all the advantages of dress with which to set off her charms. Concerning Anna's appearance she cared less, for she had but little hope of her, unless, indeed--but 'twas too soon to think of that--she would wait, and perhaps in good time 't would all come round naturally and as a matter of course. So she encouraged her daughter's intimacy with Captain Atherton, who, until Malcolm Everett appeared, was in Anna's estimation the best man living. Now, however, she made an exception in favor of her teacher, "who," as she told the captain, "neither wore false teeth, nor kept in his pocket a pair of specks, to be slyly used when he fancied no one saw him."
Captain Atherton coughed, colored, laughed, and saying that "Mr. Everett was a mash kind of a boy," swore eternal enmity toward him, and under the mask of friendship--watched! Eleven years before, when Anna was a baby, Mrs. Livingstone had playfully told the captain, who was one day deploring his want of a wife, that if he would wait he should have her daughter. To this he agreed, and the circumstance, trivial as it was, made a more than ordinary impression upon his mind; and though he as yet had no definite idea that the promise would ever be fulfilled, the little girl was to him an object of uncommon interest. Mrs. Livingstone knew this, and whenever Anna's future prospects were the subject of her meditations, she generally fell back upon that fact as an item not to be despised.
Now, however, her thoughts were turned into another and widely different channel. Christmas week was to be spent by Durward Bellmont partly at Captain Atherton's and partly at her own house, and as Mrs. Livingstone was not ignorant of the effect a becoming dress has upon a pretty face, she determined that Carrie should, at least, have that advantage. Anna, too, was to fare like her sister, while no thought was bestowed upon poor 'Lena's wardrobe, until her husband, who accompanied her to Frankfort, suggested that a certain pattern, which he fancied would be becoming to 'Lena should be purchased.
With an angry scowl, Mrs. Livingstone muttered something about "spending so much money for other folks' young ones." Then remembering the old delaines, and knowing by the tone of her husband's voice that he was in earnest, she quickly rejoined, "Why, 'Lena's got two new dresses at home."
Never doubting his wife's word, Mr. Livingstone was satisfied, and nothing more was said upon the subject. Business of importance made it necessary for him to go for a few weeks to New Orleans, and he was now on his way thither, his wife having accompanied him as far as Frankfort, where he took the boat, while she returned home. When 'Lena left the room after learning that she had no part in the mass of Christmas finery, she repaired to the arbor bridge, where she had wept so bitterly on the first day of her arrival, and which was now her favorite resort. For a time she sat watching the leaping waters, swollen by the winter rains, and wondering if it were not possible that they started at first from the pebbly spring which gushed so cool and clear from the mountain-side near her old New England home. This reminded her of where and what she was now--a dependent on the bounty of those who wished her away, and who almost every day of her life made her feel it so keenly, too. Not one among them loved her except Anna, and would not her affection change as they grew older? Then her thoughts took another direction.
Durward Bellmont was coming--but did she wish to see him? Could she bear the sneering remarks which she knew Carrie would make concerning herself? And how would he be affected by them? Would he ask her of her father? and if so, what had she to say?
Many a time had she tried to penetrate the dark mystery of her birth, but her grandmother was wholly non-committal. Once, too, when her uncle seemed kinder than usual, she had ventured to ask him of her father, and with a frown he had replied, that "the least she knew of him the better!" Still 'Lena felt sure that he was a good man, and that some time or other she would find him.
All day long the clouds had been threatening rain, which began to fall soon after 'Lena entered the arbor, but so absorbed was she in her own thoughts, that she did not observe it until her clothes were perfectly dampened; then starting up, she repaired to the house. For several days she had not been well, and this exposure brought on a severe cold, which confined her to her room for nearly two weeks. Meantime the dress-making process went on, Anna keeping 'Lena constantly apprised of its progress, and occasionally wearing in some article for her inspection. This reminded 'Lena of her own wardrobe, and knowing that it would not be attended to while she was sick, she made such haste to be well, that on Thursday at tea-time she took her accustomed seat at the table. After supper she lingered awhile in the parlor, hoping something would be said, but she waited in vain, and was about leaving, when a few words spoken by Carrie in an adjoining room caught her ear and arrested her attention.
They were--"And so 'Lena came down to-night. I dare say she thinks you'll set Miss Simpson at work upon my old delaine."
"Perhaps so," returned Mrs. Livingstone, "but I don't see how Miss Simpson can do it, unless you put off having that silk apron embroidered."
"I shan't do any such thing," said Carrie, glad of an excuse to keep 'Lena out of the way. "What matter is it if she don't come down when the company are here? I'd rather she wouldn't, for she's so green and awkward, and Durward is so fastidious in such matters, that I'd rather he wouldn't know she's a relative of ours! I know he'd tell his mother, and they say she is very particular about his associates."
'Lena's first impulse was to defy her cousin to her face--to tell her she had seen Durward Bellmont, and that he didn't laugh at her either. But her next thought was calmer and more rational. Possibly under Carrie's influence he might make fun of her, and resolving on no condition whatever to make herself visible while he was in the house, she returned to her room, and throwing herself upon the bed, wept until she fell asleep.
"When is Miss Simpson going to fix 'Lena's dress?" asked Anna, as day after day passed, and nothing was said of the brown delaine.
For an instant Miss Simpson's nimble fingers were still, as she awaited the answer to a question which had occurred to her several times. She was a kind-hearted, intelligent girl, find at a glance had seen how matters stood. She, too, was an orphan, and her sympathies were all enlisted in behalf of the neglected 'Lena. She had heard from Anna of the brown delaine, and in her own mind she had determined that it should be fitted with the utmost taste of which she was capable.
Her speculations, however, were brought to a close by Mrs. Livingstone's saying in reply to Anna, that "'Lena seemed so wholly uninterested, and cared so little about seeing the company, she had decided not to have the dress fixed until after Christmas week."
The fiery expression of two large, glittering eyes, which at that moment peered in at the door, convinced Miss Simpson that her employer had hardly told the truth, and she secretly determined that 'Lena should have the dress whether she would or not. Accordingly, the next time she and Anna were alone, she asked for the delaine, entrusting her secret to Anna, who, thinking no harm, promised to keep it from her mother. But to get 'Lena fitted was a more difficult matter. Her spirit was roused, and for a time she resisted their combined efforts. At last, however, she yielded, and by working late at night in her own room, Miss Simpson managed to finished the dress, in which 'Lena really looked better than did either of her cousins in their garments of far richer materials. Still she was resolved not to go down, and Anna, fearing what her mother might say, dared not urge her very strongly hoping, though, that "something would turn up."
Durward Bellmont, Nellie Douglass, and Mabel Ross had arrived at Captain Atherton's. Mrs. Livingstone and her daughters had called upon them, inviting them to spend a few days at Maple Grove, where they were to meet some other young people "selected from the wealthiest families in the neighborhood," Mrs. Livingstone said, at the same time patting the sallow cheek of Mabel, whose reputed hundred thousand she intended should one day increase the importance of her own family.
The invitation was accepted--the day had arrived, the guests were momentarily expected, and Carrie, before the long mirror, was admiring herself, alternately frowning upon John Jr., who was mimicking her "airs," and scolding Anna for fretting because 'Lena could not be induced to join them. Finding that her niece was resolved not to appear, Mrs. Livingstone, for looks' sake, had changed her tactics, saying, "'Lena could come down if she chose--she was sure there was nothing to prevent."
Knowing this, Anna had exhausted all her powers of eloquence upon her cousin. But she still remained inexorable, greatly to the astonishment of her grandmother who for several days had been suffering from a rheumatic affection, notwithstanding which she "meant to hobble down if possible, for" said she, "I want to see this Durward Bellmont. Matilda says he's got Noble blood in him. I used to know a family of Nobles in Massachusetts, and I think like as not he's some kin!"
Carrie, to whom this remark was made, communicated it to her mother, who forthwith repaired to Mrs. Nichols' room, telling her "that 'twas a child's party," and hinting pretty strongly that she was neither wanted nor expected in the parlor, and would confer a great favor by keeping aloof.
"Wall, wall," said Mrs. Nichols, who had learned to dread her daughter's displeasure, "I'd as lief stay up here as not, but I do want 'Lena to jine 'em. She's young and would enjoy it."
Without a word of answer Mrs. Livingstone walked away, leaving 'Lena more determined than ever not to go down. When the evening at last arrived, Anna insisted so strongly upon her wearing the delaine, for fear of what might happen, that 'Lena consented, curling her hair with great care, and feeling a momentary thrill of pride as she saw how well she looked.
"When we get nicely to enjoying ourselves," said Anna, "you come down and look through the glass door, for I do want you to see Durward, he's so handsome--but there's the carriage--I must go;" and away ran Anna down the stairs, while 'Lena flew to one of the front windows to see the company as they rode up.
First came Captain Atherton's carriage, and in it the captain and his maiden sister, together with a pale, sickly-looking girl, whom 'Lena knew to be Mabel Ross. Behind them rode Durward Bellmont, and at his side, on a spirited little pony was another girl, thirteen or fourteen years of age, but in her long riding-dress looking older, because taller. 'Lena readily guessed that this was Nellie Douglass, and at a glance she recognized the Durward of the cars--grown handsomer and taller since then, she thought. With a nimble bound he leaped from his saddle, kissing his hand to Carrie, who with her sunniest smile ran past him to welcome Nellie. A pang, not of jealousy, but of an undefined something, shot through 'Lena's heart, and dropping the heavy curtain, she turned away, while the tears gathered thickly in her large brown eyes.
"Where's 'Lena?" asked Captain Atherton, of Anna, warming his red fingers before the blazing grate, and looking round upon the group of girls gathered near. Glancing at her mother, Anna replied, "She says she don't want to come down."
"Bashful," returned the captain, while Nellie Douglass asked, "who 'Lena was," at the same time returning the pinch which John Jr. had slyly given her as a mode of showing his preference, for Nellie was his favorite.
Fearful of Anna's reply, Mrs. Livingstone answered, carelessly, "She's the child of one of Mr. Livingstone's poor relations, and we've taken her awhile out of charity."
At any other time John Jr. would doubtless have questioned his mother's word, but now so engrossed was he with the merry, hoydenish Nellie, that he scarcely heard her remark, or noticed the absence of 'Lena. With the exception of his cousin, Nellie was the only girl whom John Jr. could endure--"the rest," he said, "were so stuck up and affected."
For Mabel Ross, he seemed to have a particular aversion. Not because she was so very disagreeable, but because his mother continually reminded him of what she hoped would one day be, "and this," he said, "was enough to make a 'feller' hate a girl." So without considering that Mabel was not to blame, he ridiculed her unmercifully, calling her "a bundle of medicine," and making fun of her thin, sallow face, which really appeared to great disadvantage when contrasted with Nellie's bright eyes and round, rosy cheeks.
When the guests were all assembled, Carrie, not knowing whether Durward Bellmont would relish plays, seated herself demurely upon the sofa, prepared to act the dignified young lady, or any other character she might think necessary.
"Get up, Cad," said John Jr. "Nobody's going to act like they were at a funeral; get up, and let's play something."
As the rest seemed to be similarly inclined, Carrie arose, and erelong the joyous shouts reached 'Lena, making her half wish that she, too, was there. Remembering Anna's suggestion of looking through the glass door she stole softly down the stairs, and stationing herself behind the door, looked in on the scene. Mr. Everett, usually so dignified, had joined in the game, claiming "forfeits" from Anna more frequently than was considered at all necessary by the captain, who for a time looked jealously on, and then declaring himself as young as any of them, joined them with a right good will.
"Blind man's buff," was next proposed, and 'Lena's heart leaped up, for that was her favorite game. John Jr. was first blinded, but he caught them so easily that all declared he could see, and loud were the calls for Durward to take his place. This he willingly did, and whether he could see or not, he suffered them to pass directly under his hands, thus giving entire satisfaction. On account of the heat of the rooms, Anna, on passing the glass door, threw it open, and the next time Durward came round he marched directly into the hall, seizing 'Lena, who was trying to hide.
Feeling her long curls, he exclaimed, "Anna, you are caught."
"No, I ain't Anna; let me go," said 'Lena, struggling to escape.
This brought all the girls to the spot, while Durward, snatching the muffler from his eyes, looked down with astonishment upon the trembling 'Lena, who would have escaped had she not been so securely hemmed in.
"Ain't you ashamed, 'Lena, to be peeking?" asked Carrie, while Durward repeated--"'Lena! 'Lena! I've seen her before in the cars between Springfield and Albany; but how came she here?"
"She lives here--she's our cousin," said Anna, notwithstanding the twitch given to her sleeve by Carrie, who did not care to have the relationship exposed.
"Your cousin," said Durward, "and where's the old lady who was with her?"
"The one she called _granny_?" asked John Jr., on purpose to rouse up his fiery little cousin.
"No, I don't call her granny, neither--I've quit it," said 'Lena, angrily, adding, as a sly hit at Kentucky talk, "she's up stars, sick with the rheumatism."
"Good," said Durward, "but why are you not down here with us?"
"I didn't want to come," was her reply; and Durward, leading her into the parlor, continued, "but now that you are here, you must stay."
"Pretty, isn't she," said Nellie, as the full blaze of the chandelier fell upon 'Lena.
"Rath-er," was Carrie's hesitating reply.
She felt annoyed that 'Lena should be in the parlor, and provoked that Durward should notice her in any way, and at the first opportunity she told him "how much she both troubled and mortified them, by her vulgarity and obstinacy," adding that "she had a most violent temper." From Nellie she had learned that Durward particularly disliked passionate girls, and for this reason she strove to give him the impression that 'Lena was such an one. Once or twice she fancied him half inclined to disbelieve her, as he saw how readily 'Lena joined in their amusements, and how good-humoredly she bore John Jr.'s teasing, and then she hoped something would occur to prove her words true. Her wish was gratified.
The next day was dark and stormy, confining the young people to the house. About ten o'clock the negro who had been to the post-office returned, bringing letters for the family, among which was one for 'Lena, so curious in its shape and superscription, that even the negro grinned as he handed it out. 'Lena was not then present, and Carrie, taking the letter, exclaimed, "Now if this isn't the last specimen from Yankeedom. Just listen,--" and she spelled out the direction--"_To Mis HELL-ENY RIVERS, state of kentucky, county of woodford, Dorsey post offis, care of Mis nichals_."
Unobserved by any one, 'Lena had entered the parlor in time to hear every word, and when Carrie, chancing to espy her, held out the letter, saying, "Here, Helleny, I guess this came from down east," she darted forward, and striking the letter from Carrie's hands stamped upon it with her foot, declaring "she'd never open it in the world," and saying "they might do what they pleased with it for all of her."
"Read it--may we read it?" eagerly asked Carrie, delighted to see 'Lena doing such justice to her reputation.
"Yes, read it!" almost screamed 'Lena, and before any one could interpose a word, Carrie had broken the seal and commenced reading, announcing, first, that it came from "Joel Slocum!" It was as follows: "Dear Helleny, mebby you'll wonder when you see a letter from me, but I'll be hanged if I can help 'ritin', I am so confounded lonesome now you are gone, that I dun know nothing what to do with myself. So I set on the great rock where the saxefax grows; and think, and think till it seems 's ef my head would bust open. Wall, how do you git along down amongst them heathenish Kentucks & niggers? I s'pose there ain't no great difference between 'em, is there? When I git a little more larnin', I b'lieve I'll come down there to keep school. O, I forgot to tell you that our old line back cow has got a calf--the prettiest little critter--Dad has gin her to me, and I call her Helleny, I do, I swow! And when she capers round she makes me think of the way you danced 'High putty Martin' the time you stuck a sliver in your heel--"
Up to this point 'Lena had stood immovable, amid the loud shouts of her companions, but the fire of a hundred volcanoes burned within and flashed from her eyes. And now springing forward, she caught the letter from Carrie's hand, and inflicting a long scratch upon her forehead, fled from the room. Had not Durward Bellmont been present, Carrie would have flown after her cousin, to avenge the insult, and even now she was for a moment thrown off her guard, and starting forward, exclaimed, "the tigress!"
Drawing his fine cambric handkerchief from his pocket, Durward gently wiped the blood from her white brow, saying "Never mind. It is not a deep scratch."
"I wish 'twas deeper," muttered John Jr. "You'd no business to serve her so mean."
An angry retort rose to Carrie's lips, but, just in time to prevent its utterance, Durward also spoke, saying, "It was too bad to tease her so, but we were all more or less to blame, and I'm not sure but we ought to apologize."
Carrie felt that she would die, almost, before she'd apologize to such as 'Lena, and still she thought it might be well enough to give Durward the impression that she was doing, her best to make amends for her fault. Accordingly, the next time her cousin appeared in the parlor she was all smiles and affability, talking a great deal to 'Lena, who returned very short but civil answers, while her face wore a look which Durward construed into defiance and hatred of everybody and everything.
"Too passionate," thought he, turning from her to Carrie, whose voice, modulated to its softest tones, rang out clear and musical, as she sported and laughed with her moody cousin, appearing the very essence of sweetness and amiability!
Pity he could not have known how bitterly 'Lena had wept over her hasty action--not because he witnessed it, but because she knew it was wrong! Pity he could not have read the tear-blotted note, which she laid on Carrie's work-box, and in which was written, "I am sorry, Carrie, that I hurt you so. I didn't know what I was about, but I will try and not get so angry again."
Pity, too, that he did not see the look of contempt with which Carrie perused this note; and when the two girls accidentally met in the upper hall, and 'Lena laid her hand gently on Carrie's arm, it is a thousand pities he was not present to see how fiercely she was repulsed, Carrie exclaiming, "Get out of my sight! I hate you, and so do all of them downstairs, Durward in particular."
Had he known all this he would have thought differently of 'Lena, who, feeling that she was not wanted in the parlor, kept herself entirely aloof, never again appearing during the remainder of his stay. Once Durward asked for her, and half laughingly Carrie replied, that "she had not yet recovered from her pouting fit." Could he have known her real occupation, he might have changed his mind again. The stormy weather had so increased Mrs. Nichols' rheumatic complaint, that now, perfectly crippled, she lay as helpless as a child, carefully nursed by 'Lena and old Aunt Polly, who, spite of her own infirmities, had hobbled in to wait upon her friend. Never but once did Mrs. Livingstone go near her mother's sick-room--"the smell of herbs made her faint," she said! But to do her justice, we must say that she gave Polly unqualified permission to order anything she pleased for the invalid.
Toward the close of the third day, the company left. Nellie Douglass, who really liked 'Lena, and wished to bid her good-bye, whispered to John Jr., asking him to show her the way to his cousin's room. No one except members of the family had ever been in Mrs. Nichols' apartment, and for a moment John Jr. hesitated, knowing well that Nellie could not fail to observe the contrast it presented to the other richly-furnished chambers.
"They ought to be mortified--it'll serve 'em right," he thought, at last, and motioning Nellie to fallow him, he silently led the way to his grandmother's room, where their knock was answered by Aunt Polly's gruff voice, which bade them "come in."
They obeyed, but Nellie started back when she saw how greatly inferior was this room to the others around it. In an instant her eye took in everything, and she readily comprehended the whole.
"It isn't my doings, by a jug-full!" whispered John Jr., himself reddening as he noted the different articles of furniture which had never before seemed so meager and poor.
On the humble bed, in a half-upright position, lay Mrs. Nichols, white as the snowy cap-border which shaded her face. Behind her sat 'Lena, supporting her head, and when Nellie entered, she was carefully pushing back the few gray locks which had fallen over the invalid's forehead, her own bright curls mingling with them, and resting, some on her neck, and some on her grandmother's shoulder. A deep flush dyed her cheeks when she saw Nellie, who thought she had never looked upon a sight more beautiful.
"I did not know your grandmother was ill," said she, coming forward and gently touching the swollen hand which lay outside the counterpane.
Mrs. Nichols was not too ill to talk, and forthwith she commenced a history of her malady, beginning at the time she first had it when 'Lena's mother was a year and a day old, frequently quoting Nancy Scovandyke, and highly entertaining Nellie, who listened until warned by the sound of the carriage, as it came round to the door, that she must go.
"We are going back to Uncle Atherton's," said she, "but I wanted to bid you good-bye, and ask you to visit me in Frankfort with your cousins. Will you do so?"
This was wholly unexpected to 'Lena, who, without replying, burst info tears. Nellie hardly knew what to do. She seldom cried herself--she did not like to see others cry--and still she did not blame 'Lena, for she felt that she could not help it. At last, taking her hand, she bade her farewell, asking if she should not carry a good-bye to the others.
"Yes, to Mabel," said 'Lena.
"And not Durward?" asked Nellie.
With something of her old spirit 'Lena answered, "No, he hates me--Carrie says so."
"Cad's a fool," muttered John Jr., while Nellie rejoined, "Durward never hated anybody, and even if he did, he would not say so--I mean to tell him;" and with another good-bye she was gone.
On the stairs she met Durward, who was looking for her, and asked where she had been.
"To bid 'Lena good-bye; don't you want to go too?" said Nellie.
"Why, yes, if you are sure she won't scratch my eyes out," he returned, gayly, following his cousin.
"I reckon I'd better tell 'Lena to come out into the hall--she may not want you in there," said John Jr., and hastening forward he told his cousin what was wanted.