VII.

illus084"'COME SIT ON THE EDGE OF MY CHAIR,YOU LITTLE FAIRY.'"But I was so disappointed I was afraid I'dcry. I had hopedsomuch from this interview with Mr. Erveng, and here was Phil spoiling everything by his silliness. "I think you are simplyhorrid," I broke out, very crossly. "I just wish Mr. Erveng would come in and beat you, or turn you out, orsomething.""If the old man shows fight, I'll have his blood," cried Phil, tragically, springing from his chair. "Gore,gore! Iwillhave gore!" He did lookveryfunny, striding up and down the room and scraping his toes along the floor in our most approved "high tragedy" style, with nurse's shawl hanging over one shoulder, his bonnet crooked and almost off his head, and shaking the umbrella, held tight in a black-woollen-gloved fist, at an imaginary foe.Angry as I was, Ihadto laugh, and I don't know what next he mightn't have done—for Phil never knows when to stop—had we not just then caught the sound of a distant footstep. Phil didn't seem to mind, but I got so nervous that I didn't know what to do. "Oh,won'tyou go?" I cried in despair. "He'll think we are crazy! Oh, whereamI to go?""Goodness only knows!" answered Phil, trying to straighten his bonnet; then, glancing around the room, "There isn't a piece of furniture here large enough to hide your corpulent form," he said. "There he comes!Now, I hope you're satisfied; youwouldn'tgo when you could."Sure enough, the footsteps were almost at the door. I looked frantically about. I would gladly have escaped through the window, and climbed over the balcony to the ground; but to put aside the delicate lace curtains and unlatch the sash would have taken more time than we had to spare. Suddenly Phil cried, "Theportières, you dunce!" giving me a push in that direction, and like a flash I got behind them. I heard Phil say "Bother!" under his breath, as he stumbled over a footstool in his haste to get seated, then the door opened, and some one entered the room.Provoked as I was with Phil, I couldn't help hoping that his bonnet was straight, and that he had on his shawl, for his figure wasn't as good as mine. I heard a strange voice—Mr. Erveng's—say: "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long, but I am extremely busy. Will you be kind enough to state your business as briefly as possible?"Then Phil began, imitating an old lady's voice to a nicety: "Having heard that you publish a great many books, I thought you would like to know of a very clever—reallyremarkable—work which is being written by a well-known scholar who lives in this street, and that perhaps you would call on him and make him an offer for it." I knew the moment I heard this speech that Felix had made it up, and justcoached Phil; it was certainly better than what I had thought of.The portières behind which I had hid only covered a door, and, though I squeezed up as tight as I could, I was awfully afraid they would part and show me underneath. But, all the same, I couldn't resist peeping to see what was going on. Phil had his back to me, but Mr. Erveng sat facing me in the swing-chair that was by his desk, and I noticed at once that he was the black-bearded man we'd seen the day the family moved in.I listened eagerly for Mr. Erveng's answer. He said very coolly: "It is not our custom to make an offer for a work of which we know nothing. Manuscripts are generally submitted to us. What is the title of this 'remarkable work'?"I didn't like the way he said this, and I thought he looked very suspiciously at Phil; but Phil didn't seem to notice it, for he answered eagerly: "It's called the Fe—'History of Some Ancient Peoples,' and I've brought you a chapter or two to look at." Here I heard a rustling, and peeping between the portières, what should I see but Phil handing Mr. Erveng somepages of the Fetich!I was so perfectly amazed that I had to stuff the portière into my mouth to keep from calling out; howhadPhil ever got hold of those chapters without papa's knowledge? I knew Nannie would never have helped him after what she had said on Sunday to Max, and how had Phildaredto bring them here! What would papa say if he should know what he had done,—indeed, what we had both done! Oh, how sorry I was that I hadn't gone when Phil urged me to.When I got over my surprise a little, and again looked through the portières, Mr. Erveng stood holding the Fetich in his hands, and looking over the pages with a frown on his face. "This is curious," I heard him say. And then, suddenly, before I could guess what he was going to do, he crossed the room and drew my portières aside! At first I held on to them, with a desperate desire to lose myself in the scanty folds; but they were firmly withdrawn, and there I stood,—a fac-simile of the fat, black-robed, black-veiled person who sat on the three-cornered chair by Mr. Erveng's desk!"Whew!" whistled Phil, then tried to look as if he hadn't uttered a sound, while Mr. Erveng took hold of my arm and walked me over to where Phil stood. "Now," he said sternly, "I should like an explanation of this extraordinary behaviour."But not a word said either of us,—I couldn't, I was so frightened; I assure you I wished myself home! And while we stood there—Mr. Erveng waiting for an answer—the door opened,and the boy that Max had said was Hilliard Erveng came into the room."Oh, I beg your pardon," he exclaimed, turning back, "I didn't know any one was with you."But his father called out to him, "Stay here, Hilliard!" Then turning to us he saidverysternly, "I have reason to think that this manuscript"—he still held the Fetich in his hand—"has been stolen from its rightful owner, of whom I have heard, and to whom I shall take pleasure in restoring his property. Unless you both at once take off what I am convinced is a disguise, and offer a full and satisfactory explanation, I shall be under the painful necessity of calling in a policeman and giving you in charge.""Oh, no! no!no!" I cried out. "Wedidn'tsteal it—at least, it belongs to our father, and—"illus090"THERE WE STOOD; A FINE PAIR WE MUST HAVE LOOKED!"But Phil strode over to my side. "Hush, Betty," he whispered; "I'll explain." Sweeping off his bonnet and veil, he threw them—nurse's best Sunday hat!—on a chair, and faced Mr. Erveng. You can't think how comical he looked, with his handsome boy's face and rumpled hair above that fat old woman's figure. And in a moment or two, I think, I must have looked almost as comical too; for before Phil could begin, Mr. Erveng said, "I insist uponthat person removing her bonnet and veil as well."So off went mine, and there we stood; a fine pair we must have looked! That boy Hilliard gave a little giggle,—Phil said afterwards he'd like to have "punched" him for it, and I felt awfully foolish,—but Mr. Erveng frowned.Then Phil began and told who we were, and how something that had been said by a friend of ours had given him, and me,—though neither knew about the other,—the idea of coming over and asking him, Mr. Erveng, to buy the Fetich (of course Phil called the Fetich by its proper name), and thinking he might like to see some of the manuscript, he had got hold of two chapters and brought them along to show."But why this absurd disguise, if all this is true?" asked Mr. Erveng of us, looking from one to the other.I began: "Because Ma—" but Phil gave me a hard nudge of the elbow: "Max mightn't like us to tell that," he mumbled, which ended my explanation.But I was determined to get in a few remarks: "Papa doesn't know a thing about our doing this," I said very fast, for fear Phil would interrupt again, "and we don't want him to. We just came here and told you about the Fe—his book, because we were sure he'd never tell you, or let you see it, himself, and we thought if youknew of it, you would want to buy it from him, and that would make him finish it up,—papa's beenyearswriting that book,—and then Felix could go to college and—""Betty!" broke in Phil, in such a sharp, angry tone, and with such a red face, that I moved away from him."That's where I've seen you,—at college," exclaimed the boy; he talks in a slow, deliberate way, something like Judge. "Theydolive across the way, father; I've seen him"—with a nod of his head at Phil—"going in there.""Ah, really, how kind of you to remember me!" cried Phil, with sarcasm. "Please let me have that manuscript, Mr. Erveng, and we will go home.""No," remarked Mr. Erveng, very decidedly. "There is something about the affair that I don't understand, and I shall not feel satisfied until I have restored this manuscript, which I know is valuable, to its owner, and found for myself that the story you have told me is true.""All right, then," Phil cried recklessly. "Come, Betty, let's put on our 'bunnits' and go face the music."Deeply mortified, we "dressed up" again, and went home under the escort of Mr. Erveng and his son. Hannah opened the door, and how she did stare at the two fat, black-robed, closely veiled ladies who waddled past her into thedrawing-room! Hilliard did not come in with us, and when Mr. Erveng found that neither Phil nor I would answer Hannah's "Please, what name shall I say?" he took a card out and gave it to her, saying, "Ask Mr. Rose if he will be kind enough to let me see him for a few minutes."While we sat waiting, Fee came limping down the stairs and looked in on us. "Hullo!" he exclaimed in astonishment; "twohere? What's up?" Then he saw the stranger and stopped."Oh, we've had a dandy time!" said Phil, throwing back his veil, "and it isn't over yet. Mr. Erveng, allow me to introduce to you my brother, Felix Rose."While the introduction was going on, papa came into the room, and the expression of his face was something that can't be described when he found that the two ladies to whom he had bowed when he entered were indeed Phil and I. Mr. Erveng stated the case as briefly as possible, making much more light of it than we had expected, and handed to papa the pages of the Fetich that Phil had brought to him. Papa said very little, but his face grew quite pale, and he accompanied Mr. Erveng to the door, where they stood talking for a few minutes; then Mr. Erveng went away.Fee had disappeared with our bonnets and veils,—we would willingly have divested ourselves of the other garments as well, but we knew he was not equal to the accumulation of pillows, shawls, and gowns which that would involve,—and we were sitting in dead silence when papa returned, and, opening the folding doors, motioned us to go into the study.Nannie sat there writing; but the merry little laugh with which she greeted our entrance died quickly away as she guessed what we had been doing, and her low, "Oh, Phil, oh, Betty, howcouldyou!" made me feel more ashamed than a scolding would have.Papa put the two chapters of the Fetich carefully away; then he took his seat at his desk and said, "Now I wish to hear the meaning of this most extraordinary and unwarrantable behaviour."For an instant neither of us spoke; then, just as I opened my mouth, Phil began. He made a very short story of it,—how, through Max, we had heard of Mr. Erveng's being a publisher, and how the story about his liking fat old ladies had put the idea into our heads to dress up and call on him, and interest him in papa's book.Papa frowned at us over his glasses. "What has Mr. Erveng to do with my book?" he asked, sternly. "And why did my son put my most cherished work into a stranger's hands without my knowledge?""Because—" began Phil; then he got as red asa beet, and stood plucking at the skirt of nurse's gown without another word.I felt sorry for Phil. I knew that, like me, he had done it in the interest of the whole family; so when papa said a little sharply, "I am waiting for an answer, Philip," I said very quickly, "Please don't be angry with Phil, papa; we did it because we thought if Mr. Erveng knew of the Fet—book, he'd want to buy it, and then perhaps you would finish it, and sell it for a lot of money, and then Fee—um—eh—we could do lots of things."Just then the study door opened, and in came Felix, quite out of breath from hurrying up and down stairs. He saw Phil's downcast face, and hastening forward, laid his hand on Phil's shoulder, saying, "I deserve a full share of Phil's scolding, father. Betty evidently carried out her scheme without assistance, but I dressed Phil, and helped him to get off without being seen. So I know, sir, that I ought to share his punishment.""I see; then this was a conspiracy to force me to finish my work and sell it," said papa, slowly, with a grieved, shocked look in his eyes; then, turning to Nannie, he asked unsteadily: "Areyouin it, too? Margaret—your mother—used to urge me to—write slowly—but—perhaps I have lingered too long over it. I thank you," with a look at us, "for recalling meto my duty, though I think it would have been kinder to have spoken to me, rather than to have gone to a stranger in this way. I will finish the History—as soon—as I can."There was no anger in papa's voice, but a hurt tone that went right to my heart, and made me horribly ashamed, while Nannie flew to his side and threw her arms around his neck. "Don't take it to heart, dear papa," she pleaded, pressing her cheek against his face. "It was only thoughtlessness on their part; theydidn'tmean to grieve you, I know they didn't. Oh, boys, Betty, speak up and assure papa of this."I began to cry out loud. Idespisecrying, and I know papa hates it, but I simplyhadto sob, or I would have choked. The boys felt badly, too. Fee leaned on the desk and said, low and very earnestly, "I amsoashamed of myself, father. And I know Phil is, too.""I've made a great ass of myself," growled poor Phil. "I wish, sir, that you'd give me a thrashing, as if I were a little shaver,—a sound one; I know I deserve it."But papa loosed Nannie's arms from about his neck, and put her gently from him. "My dear," he said wearily, "I—I—wish you would make them all go; I want to be alone."Papa did not come down to dinner that evening, and we were a very subdued party, thoughNora tried to cheer Phil up by telling him that she knew he had done what he had for the benefit of the whole family,—she didn't tellmethat!"Yes," answered our eldest brother, gloomily, "it was my first attempt at that sort of philanthropy, and it'll be my last—stop staring at me, Jack, or I'll throw a bread-pill at you.""Is that what you call it, Philip?" said Miss Marston, lifting her eyebrows. "It seems to me more like that love of practical joking and the self-will that your mother was so constantly warning you and Betty against.""Indeed, then, you're right, ma'am," put in nurse, who happened to be in the room, adding, with a pointed glance at me, "I wonder what the dear lady would 'a' said to this day's conductions!"And not one of us had a word to say in reply, for we well knew how grieved she would have been.VII.NEW FRIENDS.TOLD BY BETTY.BETTY!Bet-ty!" called Nannie from the foot of the stairs, "tell Jack that he's got just about three minutes more, as papa has started to put on his overcoat, and he does so dislike to have us late for church. Do make him hurry!"But that, as I knew very well, was easier said than done, for Jack hates to hurry. Almost at the last minute, when we had gathered in the schoolroom to let Miss Marston see us before we started out with papa for church, it was discovered that Jack's boots needed cleaning. So now he was up in the attic, brushing away at them, and singing with all his might,—"Thy gardens and thy goodly walksContinually are green,Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowersAs nowhere else are seen.Right through thy streets, with pleasing sound,The living waters flow;And on the banks on either side,The trees of life do grow."Jack was just beginning the last line of this verse when Nannie called to me; so I let him finish, then I shouted up the attic stairs, "Jack, you've just got about two minutes and a half; papa has started to put on his overcoat. Are you ready?""Most," Jack answered; "I've got one more heel to do,"—as if he'd had a dozen or so! and he actually started on another verse of the hymn.I flew up the attic steps and gazed indignantly at him through the railings: "You are the most provoking boy I ever knew," I said, "and the biggest poke! I do believe youloveto be late. There's everybody down in the hall ready to start, and here you are loitering as if you had hours to spare."illus100"'BETTY!BET-TY!' CALLED NANNIE.""Are you two coming, or are you not?" cried Phil from the hall below. "The procession is ready to start, and woe to stragglers! If servicebegan at twelve instead of eleven o'clock, Jack, you'd still be late. Come on, Betty.""I declare, if you aren't all the greatest pack of naggers!" exclaimed Jack, impatiently, throwing down the blacking brushes and snatching up his hat; then he raced after us down the stairs and brought up the rear as we filed out of the front door.There are always so many of us to go to church—all of us children (except Alan, who goes to the children's service in the afternoon), and Miss Marston and papa—that we do make, as Phil says, a regular procession as we walk down the avenue and across the park to the old brown church every Sunday. I don't mind going in the procession, nor does Jack,—unless he'sverylate; but Nora thinks it's horrid, and Phil and Felix always hang back for the very last, and try to look as if they didn't belong to us at all. Nannie and Mädel go with papa, Kathie and Paul with Miss Marston, and the rest of us straggle along as we like until we get to the church. It's brown and very large, and has a good deal of ivy growing all over it. It's the church where Murray Unsworth and Helen Vassah stood sponsors for their little cousin Paul; they go there and their grandfather and grandmother.Papa likes to sit away up front; so up the middle aisle we go,—oh, how the boys and Nora hate this part!—and file into the first two pews.We are always early, and sometimes it does seem so long before service begins. Jack and I sit at the upper end of the first pew, and I couldn't tell you how many times we have read the Creed and Commandments that are printed back of the chancel, and the memorials on each side. Then we look out the hymns for the day, and read them all through. Jack likes to do this; he has all sorts of odd ideas about them; for instance, he says that when he sings,"Christian! dost thou see themOn the holy ground,How the powers of darknessRage thy steps around?Christian! up and smite them,Counting gain but loss;In the strength that comethBy the holy cross,"he somehow always thinks of the picture in papa's study of St. Michael and the Angel. He says he can see, right in his mind, the great beautiful angel of light triumphant in the strength of God, and under his feet the stormy evil face of the conquered Lucifer. I've got so now that I too think of the picture when I sing the hymn, and of the hymn when I look at the picture.Then in the other hymn, where it says,"Finding, following, keeping, struggling,Is He sure to bless?'Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs,Answer, Yes,'"Jack says he sees—just like a picture—a steep hill up which a whole lot of people are striving, with all their might, to climb; they're poor and tired and sick and lame, but they struggle bravely on; and by the beautiful gates at the top of the hill stands One grand and white and shining, wearing a golden crown. He bends forward and takes hold of each tired traveller as soon as he is within reach, and helps him safe within the gates; and in the hands that do this are "wound-prints." Jack always shuts his eyes and lowers his voice when he tells us about this thought of his; only Nannie and I know of it, and while I am hearing about it I always feel quiet.How hedoesenjoy singing! His little body seems to expand, and you'd be astonished at the noise that he can make. This particular Sunday that I am telling you about my ears were fairly ringing as Jack joined in the chorus of "Onward, Christian Soldiers," and I wasn't sorry when Phil leaned over from behind and whispered, "Say, Rosebud, you're not detailed to lead the choir, you know."Even the choir-master looked at him; but, perfectly regardless of everything and everybody, Jack sang through the five long verses, and sat down with the air of having thoroughly enjoyed himself.I made up my mind, though, that I'd say something about it on our way home; but justas we were coming down the church steps Jack gave my arm a nudge. "There are your friends," he said, with a grin,—"the two of 'em; just see Phil and Felix scoot!" And when I turned quickly to see, who should it be but Mr. Erveng and Hilliard!Mr. Erveng has been over to call on papa since that horrid afternoon that he escorted Phil and me home; but Hilliard didn't come with him, and we weren't sorry,—I mean Phil and I,—for we both felt foolish about meeting him; we hadn't forgotten that giggle of his when we took off our bonnets and veils that day in his father's library, and I think we both felt that we didn't want to know him any better.Mr. Erveng and papa walked across the park together, talking, and as we all followed behind,—Felix and Phil were out of sight,—who should come up beside me and lift his hat but that Hilliard! "May I walk with you part way home?" he asked, "I want to say something to you."He speaks slowly, deliberately, and has a way of half-closing his eyes when he's talking, that gives him a sleepy look,—though he can open them very wide too, sometimes; and he's sallow, and has lots of freckles. Altogether, he isn't nearly as good-looking as our boys, or Murray Unsworth; still he has rather a nice face, and we've found out that he is just as gentle andnice as a girl to his mother,—I mean in waiting on her and doing things for her. But all the same, I don't know whether I like him or not; you see he's never had a sister, never been much with girls, and he's got such silly, prim ideas about them.Well, to go back: when he asked that, I said, "Oh, yes, I suppose so;" but Jack says my tone wasn't very polite. I didn't mean to be impolite, but seeing him brought that horrid afternoon right to my mind, and I could just hear him giggle all over again; I assure you Phil and I'll not try that sort of thing again,—not if the Fetich never gets sold.And evidently that was in his mind, too; for he said, "I want to apologise for being so rude as to laugh that day in my father's office,"—that's the way he talks, so formal, as if he were as old as papa,—"and for guarding—""We didn't think it was at all polite, I must say," I broke in.But he went right on; that's another of his ways,—if one interrupts him fifty times in a remark, he'll listen, but make no reply until he's finished what he started out to say. Now I think that's provoking,—I wonder how he'd get on if he lived in our family!—and it makes the person that interrupts feel very small and nettled, too. "And for guarding you and your brother home, as if I doubted your word," he finished.Well, now, do you know, I hadn't ever thought about that part,—his going along to guard us,—until he said this; and then, all at once, I felt very angry. "I think itwasvery,veryrude of you," I said decidedly, "and I really wish you would go away and walk with your father, or by yourself—""Why,Betty!" exclaimed Jack, in surprise; then, leaning across me, he said politely, "Pleasedon't think that Betty is a rude girl, for indeed she isn't; but she is awfully quick-tempered, and when she gets mad she is apt to say lots of things that she doesn't mean. She is really quite a nice girl. I'm Jack Rose, her brother; so you see I ought to know.""So you should; I'm glad to meet you," Hilliard said, shaking hands with Jack. Then he added to me: "Idohope you and your brother will let us be friendly. I've told my mother about you both, and she wants so much to know you and your sisters. Perhaps some of you would come over and see her? She is very much of an invalid, and is not able to go out, except for a drive now and then; but when she is well enough to see them, she enjoys having visitors."I was ashamed of having spoken so sharply, but Ididn'twant to go and see Mrs. Erveng; so all I could say was, in a lame sort of way, "Thank you; perhaps—if papa says we may."Instead of letting the matter drop there, he must needs go on: "I have tried several times to speak to your brother,—at college, and once on the street,—but he seems to avoid me," he said. "I wanted to explain to him; I was afraid you might think my father was severe, but he really didn't beli—he didn't suppose—that is, the young people we've known—" He stopped, looking awfully red and embarrassed, then ended up with, "I'm afraid I'm making an awful muddle of it, but I'm really very sorry; I hope you and your brother will understand that."By "brother" I think he meant Phil, but Jack took it to himself. "Of course, oh, certainly," he said, nudging my elbow to say likewise, and bobbing his head round my shoulder.But I wouldn't, for I understood, just as well as if Hilliard'd said it, that he—they all—thought our coming over to his house, as we had done, to sell the Fetich, was a very queer proceeding. Miss Marston had said that they must think me very unladylike. She so often tells me people think that of me that I've got used to it and don't mind; but I feltveryuncomfortable when it occurred to me that perhaps this boy and his father and mother thought so too. "Why didn't you say right out that you thought my dressing up and coming over to your house that way was very queer and unladylike?" I demanded. "Iknow it's what you think." He opened his mouth to speak, but I went on quickly: "Pooh! that'snothingto what Icando. I can slide down three flights of banisters without one swerve, and make worse faces than any one we know, and whistle, and brandish Indian clubs, and fence and climb besides, and, oh! lots of other things that only boys do; why, I'm strong enough to be able to thrash Jack—therenow!""I'd just like to see you try it!" put in Jack, hastily, ruffling up; then, in an undertone, with a nudge of his elbow, "Oh, come now, Betty,dobehave yourself."But Hilliard just looked at me—his eyes were wide enough open now—as if I were some strange kind of animal; he really looked shocked. I wondered what he would think of some of my performances at home, and I couldn't resist saying, "I suppose the girls that you know never do such things?""Not when they are as old or as tall as you are," he answered quietly.Just then Miss Marston and the little ones and Nannie and Nora came up to us, so I introduced Hilliard to them, and as soon as we saw that Nora was talking to him, Jack and I dropped behind and kept there."Betty," said Jack, severely, as we turned away, "you are really a most provoking girl! I told that boy that you were nice, and you turnedright round and actedabominably. What possessed you? I didn't hear him say one thing to make you angry.""Jack," I answered, "sometimes you're as dense as a London fog. That boy is a conceited poke because he has no sister; and you'd be just like him if I weren't here to train you.""Well, I declare!" exclaimed Jack, indignantly. "Talking about conceit,—where do you put yourself?"Two hands came suddenly between us; a pleasant voice said, "Let's talk about the sermon, and see which of us remembers most of it;" and there was Max. He had been in church, he said, but stopping to speak to some one had detained him, and he was now going home to have dinner with us,—which meant a visit with papa after dinner, and then a nice long talk with us in the schoolroom. Max is so nice about that; he never slights us. In fact, I think he spends more and more time with us, for he and Nannie have started in to play violin and piano duets together, and he comes one week-evening to practise. He has lent her his violin,—a beauty!—and he takes the piano part. His ward—"the great Shad," as Phil and Felix call him—has not yet arrived; but Max told us this Sunday, as we walked along, that he expected him to be in the city very soon, "and then," he said, "I shall bring him round to be introduced to you young people."When we reached our house, Hilliard said good-bye, and ran across to his own gate; but Max, Mr. Erveng,—Max has been to call on the Ervengs, and has renewed acquaintance with his college-mate,—and papa stood talking for a few minutes before they separated. As we entered our door, Nannie was right behind me, and I heard her say to Felix in a low voice, "Look at papa as he stands between those two men; don't you think he looksveryold and worn?""Well, he's years older than they, isn't he?" asked Fee, turning to look. I too craned my neck for a glimpse, but barely caught sight of the top of papa's hat over Phil's shoulder."Not so many," Nannie said; "he is eight years older than Mr. Erveng, and ten years older than Max. Not enough to show such a difference.""Why, he looks twenty years older than either of them;" then, lowering his voice,—but I heard him,—Felix added, "Poor oldpater! He seems to enjoy talking to Mr. Erveng; but do you know, Nannie, I'mawfullysorry we played that joke about the Fetich. I fancy he hasn't been quite the same since.""No, he hasn't, and he's working desperately to get the book finished; he even works in the evening, when he used to read as a recreation. I hope he won't get ill." Then the frontdoor closed, and there was a general rush upstairs to take off coats and hats.I wasn't very happy the rest of that day; Nannie's remark about papa, and what that disagreeable boy across the way had said, kept coming back and coming back to me, so that I really got quite unhappy over it, until I told Nannie the whole thing that night, and then I began to feel better. Though Nannie always tells you right out if you've been wrong, she is also sure to say something to comfort you.I was in the schoolroom the next afternoon, practising, when suddenly the door flew open, and in bounced Jack, in a state of wild excitement. "Oh, think of it!thinkof it, Betty!" he exclaimed joyously, "I'm going to sing—tosing! just think of it!""Why, you've been doing that for a long time, haven't you?" I asked, with a lively recollection of what I had endured only yesterday."Oh, but this is different; it's to be in church,—I mean in thechoir,—and I'm to bepaidfor it!""What! really?" I gasped in astonishment. "Why, Jack!Dotell me all about it!"illus112"'WHY, YOU'VE BEEN DOING THAT FOR A LONG TIME,HAVEN'T YOU?' I ASKED."This he was only too delighted to do; but he was so excited that he could not sit still, and he kept walking backward and forward before me while he was speaking. "Well, it was this way," he said; "just now, while I was playingin the yard, Hannah said papa wanted to see me. Of course I thought right away that something must be wrong, and I didn't feel very happy over it, I can tell you; but when I got to the study, there was papa with a big piece of news for me. Mr. Hawkins from our church had come to see him to ask if he would let me sing in the choir, and was waiting in the drawing-room for my answer! Why, I'd have been glad to sing there for nothing, you know; but when papa went on, and said I would get fifty cents for each Sunday that I sang, I was so delighted, Betty, that I really couldn't say a word. But I guess papa knew by my face how overjoyed I was, for he patted my shoulder and said, 'Well, then, you can go in the drawing-room and tell Mr. Hawkins that you will accept his offer, and be at rehearsal on Friday evening;' and then he spoke about what an honour it was to be chosen to sing God's praises in His own house. I tell you what, Betty, I'm going to try to be a very,verygood boy; now aren't you glad for me?"Indeed Iwasglad, and I told him so; and then what do you think he said? Why, he came close to me, with his clasped hands behind his back, and rocked himself to and fro on his heels and toes; his eyes were shining with delight. "Betty," he said, "I'm to get fifty cents a week at first, and more, Mr. Hawkins says, just as soon as I can read music readily. NowI'm not going to spend one cent of it,—not a single penny. I'm going to save it up until I get a lot, and then,—what d'you think? I'm going tosend Felix to college! Isn't that a splendid scheme? now isn't it? You see," he went on eagerly, "I've been praying for a way for Fee to go,—you have, too, haven't you? and Nannie,—and I think God has just answered our prayers by letting me get this.""Yes; but won't it take an awfully long time at that rate to save enough to send Fee?" I asked."Oh, not soverylong," Jack replied cheerfully. In the exuberance of his joy he took hold of the schoolroom table and threw his heels in the air; he looked so funny that I could have roared with laughter,—Jack is as clumsy as a cow! Then all at once he remembered something, and coming over to me said, very impressively, "Now, remember, Betty, you're not to say one word about this to Fee,—not a word; I sha'n't mention it to any one beside you, but Nannie, and she wouldn't tell; and then, when we've got enough, we'll give it to Fee, and tell him what it's for. Hoopla!" And again he embraced the table and threw his heels in the air.VIII.A RESOLUTION.TOLD BY BETTY.TWO or three days after this—after school hours—Nannie came flying into the schoolroom, where we all were, and announced that some of us had been invited to take tea with the Ervengs that afternoon. While we sat in surprised silence, she went rapidly on to explain: "Such a nice little note to papa, written by Mrs. Erveng: this is one of her 'good days,' and she would like so much to make our acquaintance; would four of us come over and take tea, etc. Hilliard brought the note just now, and papa told him that some of us would be happy to accept." She paused and looked mischievous as a groan broke from us. "I know you are all dying to hear who are to go," she said, "so I'll put you out of your suspense at once; Phil—""No, you don't! I haven't any 'bunnit,'" broke in Phil. "You don't catch me going over there again in a hurry, I can tell you.""But you ought to go, Phil, really you ought,"Nannie said. "You and Betty ought to go over and apologise to Mr. and Mrs. Erveng for the way in which you two Goths invaded their house. Fee, papa says you are to go, too," she added to her twin."Oh, but this is too bad of thepater!" exclaimed Felix, colouring up; "he knows how I hate to go among strange people. I declare, Iwon'tgo!""Go tell the governor so—gonow, while you're in the humour for it," urged Phil, with suspicious eagerness; "and—um—while you're about it, you know, just mention incidentally that those are my sentiments, too, will you?""Nonie, you're to lend grace to the entertainment," went on Nannie, with twinkling eyes."Who, me? I?" exclaimed Nora, quickly. "Oh!" Then, recovering herself the next minute, she said coolly, "Well, I'm perfectly willing to go; for that matter" (with that superior air that does so provoke us), "some of us ought to have gone long ago, and called on the Ervengs,—Miss Marston says so, too,—to apologise for and explain the, to say the least very peculiar, conduct of some other members of our family." And here she looked at me,—just as if Phil were not more to blame than I in that horrid affair of the Fetich!I made a face, and Phil said: "Oh, come, now, Nora, we've heard that before; so dospare us the rest. Who else is to be a victim, Nancy?""Betty fills up the sum of the 'some,'" answered Nannie; "papa thinks she certainly ought—""Iwon'tgo, I won't, I will not," I interrupted. "That boy is too conceited for anything, and I'm not going over there to be criticised,—so now! I don't want any of their old tea, and I'd just like to be ill or to hide away or something, so's not to go.""Let's you and I run away," suggested Phil, in a stage whisper behind his hand; then, striking an attitude, he extended his long arms: "Come, fair damsel, come, we'll fly to other climes,—the attic or the cellar,anywhere, so it be not to the Ervengs'." He made a sudden snatch at me, but I was prepared,—I know him of old!—and, dodging under his arm, darted round the table and soon put a wide distance between us."Then nobody's going," asserted Jack; he sat on the edge of the schoolroom table, grinning and hugging his knees, which were drawn up to his chin."Not a one!" "No,sir!" "No,indeed!" answered Phil, Felix, and I, in one breath."I do think you are all the rudest, most unmannerly creatures!" exclaimed Nora, indignantly. "These people have been polite enoughto invite us to their house, have taken the trouble to prepare for us, when really the attention should have come from us to them, and here you all act as if they had insulted us. Positively, you are a most uncouth set.Iam very much pleased with Mrs. Erveng's invitation, and I am going, if no one else does. Rude things!"She started for the door; but Phil got before her, and salaamed to the floor. "Whatwouldwe do without you, O most noble and elegant Eleanora!" he cried, as he bobbed up and down; and limping over, Fee stared at her through and under and over his glasses. "Friends," he exclaimed, turning to us and putting on an expression of intense astonishment, "allow me to call your attention to this remarkably healthy variety of a well-known plant, Miss"—with a wave of his hand toward Nora—"Miss Prim Rose.""You think that's very smart, don't you?" Nora said, getting red, and tossing her head. Jack flew down from the table, and over to Nora's side, calling out, "Now you just stop teasing her, Felix!" and Phil threw an arm round her, and pulled her down on his lap, saying, "Don't ruffle yourself over such trifles, old lady; keep cool!"I laughed, and Nannie put in quickly, "Nora is quite right: itwasour place, as old residents, to call first on the Ervengs,—particularly under the Fetich circumstances; and when they are kind enough to overlook our remissness, and invite us to visit them, we ought at least to appreciate the attention, not rail at it. Anyway, it was papa who decided which of us should go. I would certainly have been included in the number had I not something to do for him this afternoon and evening; I would have liked to go. So do behave yourselves!""Nancy Lee on etiquette," said Felix, with a grimace, while Nora struggled away from Phil's encircling arm with a sharp, "OfcourseI am right!" and stalked out of the room, her nose in the air.Now perhaps you think because we said all this that we didn't go to the Ervengs'; well, we did, the whole four of us, and that very afternoon. Though we fret and fume over things beforehand, we generally end by doing just as papa says about them. One reason for this is that, when it comes to the point, none of us are willing to tell him that we won't obey. Papa's very gentle, but he expects us to do as he says, and dear mamma always made us mind; so, as I said, it generally ends by our following orders. Still, sometimes it is a great satisfaction to "spunk up" beforehand, as Phil calls it, and just speak out our minds in the bosom of our family. And after that,—it's the funniest thing! but doyou know, we'll almost always turn right round and do just what we said we wouldn't do, as meek as lambs. I don't know if all large families are like this, but it's our way.Well, to go back to the tea. Nora was very glum on the way over,—she usually is when she's on her high horse,—but the boys seemed to be in great spirits, for they just giggled to the Ervengs' very door, and barely had a straight face when Buttons appeared. I fancied that he looked curiously at me, and I wondered uncomfortably if he knew that Phil and I were the two fat old black-robed ladies he had admitted the other day.Mr. Erveng was out, for which Phil and I weren't sorry; but Hilliard met us in the hall and took us upstairs to his mother's sitting-room, where she was lying in an invalid's chair with a white shawl round her shoulders. She's very pretty,—Hilliard isn't a bit like her,—but she looks very delicate and fragile; why, her hands are likemites, and she's very,verygentle, and speaks in a low voice. She welcomed us very cordially, and said she thought it was so kind of us to come,—here I thought of our remarks at home, and didn't dare look at Phil and Fee,—and she and Nora seemed to get on nicely.

illus084"'COME SIT ON THE EDGE OF MY CHAIR,YOU LITTLE FAIRY.'"

But I was so disappointed I was afraid I'dcry. I had hopedsomuch from this interview with Mr. Erveng, and here was Phil spoiling everything by his silliness. "I think you are simplyhorrid," I broke out, very crossly. "I just wish Mr. Erveng would come in and beat you, or turn you out, orsomething."

"If the old man shows fight, I'll have his blood," cried Phil, tragically, springing from his chair. "Gore,gore! Iwillhave gore!" He did lookveryfunny, striding up and down the room and scraping his toes along the floor in our most approved "high tragedy" style, with nurse's shawl hanging over one shoulder, his bonnet crooked and almost off his head, and shaking the umbrella, held tight in a black-woollen-gloved fist, at an imaginary foe.

Angry as I was, Ihadto laugh, and I don't know what next he mightn't have done—for Phil never knows when to stop—had we not just then caught the sound of a distant footstep. Phil didn't seem to mind, but I got so nervous that I didn't know what to do. "Oh,won'tyou go?" I cried in despair. "He'll think we are crazy! Oh, whereamI to go?"

"Goodness only knows!" answered Phil, trying to straighten his bonnet; then, glancing around the room, "There isn't a piece of furniture here large enough to hide your corpulent form," he said. "There he comes!Now, I hope you're satisfied; youwouldn'tgo when you could."

Sure enough, the footsteps were almost at the door. I looked frantically about. I would gladly have escaped through the window, and climbed over the balcony to the ground; but to put aside the delicate lace curtains and unlatch the sash would have taken more time than we had to spare. Suddenly Phil cried, "Theportières, you dunce!" giving me a push in that direction, and like a flash I got behind them. I heard Phil say "Bother!" under his breath, as he stumbled over a footstool in his haste to get seated, then the door opened, and some one entered the room.

Provoked as I was with Phil, I couldn't help hoping that his bonnet was straight, and that he had on his shawl, for his figure wasn't as good as mine. I heard a strange voice—Mr. Erveng's—say: "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long, but I am extremely busy. Will you be kind enough to state your business as briefly as possible?"

Then Phil began, imitating an old lady's voice to a nicety: "Having heard that you publish a great many books, I thought you would like to know of a very clever—reallyremarkable—work which is being written by a well-known scholar who lives in this street, and that perhaps you would call on him and make him an offer for it." I knew the moment I heard this speech that Felix had made it up, and justcoached Phil; it was certainly better than what I had thought of.

The portières behind which I had hid only covered a door, and, though I squeezed up as tight as I could, I was awfully afraid they would part and show me underneath. But, all the same, I couldn't resist peeping to see what was going on. Phil had his back to me, but Mr. Erveng sat facing me in the swing-chair that was by his desk, and I noticed at once that he was the black-bearded man we'd seen the day the family moved in.

I listened eagerly for Mr. Erveng's answer. He said very coolly: "It is not our custom to make an offer for a work of which we know nothing. Manuscripts are generally submitted to us. What is the title of this 'remarkable work'?"

I didn't like the way he said this, and I thought he looked very suspiciously at Phil; but Phil didn't seem to notice it, for he answered eagerly: "It's called the Fe—'History of Some Ancient Peoples,' and I've brought you a chapter or two to look at." Here I heard a rustling, and peeping between the portières, what should I see but Phil handing Mr. Erveng somepages of the Fetich!

I was so perfectly amazed that I had to stuff the portière into my mouth to keep from calling out; howhadPhil ever got hold of those chapters without papa's knowledge? I knew Nannie would never have helped him after what she had said on Sunday to Max, and how had Phildaredto bring them here! What would papa say if he should know what he had done,—indeed, what we had both done! Oh, how sorry I was that I hadn't gone when Phil urged me to.

When I got over my surprise a little, and again looked through the portières, Mr. Erveng stood holding the Fetich in his hands, and looking over the pages with a frown on his face. "This is curious," I heard him say. And then, suddenly, before I could guess what he was going to do, he crossed the room and drew my portières aside! At first I held on to them, with a desperate desire to lose myself in the scanty folds; but they were firmly withdrawn, and there I stood,—a fac-simile of the fat, black-robed, black-veiled person who sat on the three-cornered chair by Mr. Erveng's desk!

"Whew!" whistled Phil, then tried to look as if he hadn't uttered a sound, while Mr. Erveng took hold of my arm and walked me over to where Phil stood. "Now," he said sternly, "I should like an explanation of this extraordinary behaviour."

But not a word said either of us,—I couldn't, I was so frightened; I assure you I wished myself home! And while we stood there—Mr. Erveng waiting for an answer—the door opened,and the boy that Max had said was Hilliard Erveng came into the room.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," he exclaimed, turning back, "I didn't know any one was with you."

But his father called out to him, "Stay here, Hilliard!" Then turning to us he saidverysternly, "I have reason to think that this manuscript"—he still held the Fetich in his hand—"has been stolen from its rightful owner, of whom I have heard, and to whom I shall take pleasure in restoring his property. Unless you both at once take off what I am convinced is a disguise, and offer a full and satisfactory explanation, I shall be under the painful necessity of calling in a policeman and giving you in charge."

"Oh, no! no!no!" I cried out. "Wedidn'tsteal it—at least, it belongs to our father, and—"

illus090"THERE WE STOOD; A FINE PAIR WE MUST HAVE LOOKED!"

But Phil strode over to my side. "Hush, Betty," he whispered; "I'll explain." Sweeping off his bonnet and veil, he threw them—nurse's best Sunday hat!—on a chair, and faced Mr. Erveng. You can't think how comical he looked, with his handsome boy's face and rumpled hair above that fat old woman's figure. And in a moment or two, I think, I must have looked almost as comical too; for before Phil could begin, Mr. Erveng said, "I insist uponthat person removing her bonnet and veil as well."

So off went mine, and there we stood; a fine pair we must have looked! That boy Hilliard gave a little giggle,—Phil said afterwards he'd like to have "punched" him for it, and I felt awfully foolish,—but Mr. Erveng frowned.

Then Phil began and told who we were, and how something that had been said by a friend of ours had given him, and me,—though neither knew about the other,—the idea of coming over and asking him, Mr. Erveng, to buy the Fetich (of course Phil called the Fetich by its proper name), and thinking he might like to see some of the manuscript, he had got hold of two chapters and brought them along to show.

"But why this absurd disguise, if all this is true?" asked Mr. Erveng of us, looking from one to the other.

I began: "Because Ma—" but Phil gave me a hard nudge of the elbow: "Max mightn't like us to tell that," he mumbled, which ended my explanation.

But I was determined to get in a few remarks: "Papa doesn't know a thing about our doing this," I said very fast, for fear Phil would interrupt again, "and we don't want him to. We just came here and told you about the Fe—his book, because we were sure he'd never tell you, or let you see it, himself, and we thought if youknew of it, you would want to buy it from him, and that would make him finish it up,—papa's beenyearswriting that book,—and then Felix could go to college and—"

"Betty!" broke in Phil, in such a sharp, angry tone, and with such a red face, that I moved away from him.

"That's where I've seen you,—at college," exclaimed the boy; he talks in a slow, deliberate way, something like Judge. "Theydolive across the way, father; I've seen him"—with a nod of his head at Phil—"going in there."

"Ah, really, how kind of you to remember me!" cried Phil, with sarcasm. "Please let me have that manuscript, Mr. Erveng, and we will go home."

"No," remarked Mr. Erveng, very decidedly. "There is something about the affair that I don't understand, and I shall not feel satisfied until I have restored this manuscript, which I know is valuable, to its owner, and found for myself that the story you have told me is true."

"All right, then," Phil cried recklessly. "Come, Betty, let's put on our 'bunnits' and go face the music."

Deeply mortified, we "dressed up" again, and went home under the escort of Mr. Erveng and his son. Hannah opened the door, and how she did stare at the two fat, black-robed, closely veiled ladies who waddled past her into thedrawing-room! Hilliard did not come in with us, and when Mr. Erveng found that neither Phil nor I would answer Hannah's "Please, what name shall I say?" he took a card out and gave it to her, saying, "Ask Mr. Rose if he will be kind enough to let me see him for a few minutes."

While we sat waiting, Fee came limping down the stairs and looked in on us. "Hullo!" he exclaimed in astonishment; "twohere? What's up?" Then he saw the stranger and stopped.

"Oh, we've had a dandy time!" said Phil, throwing back his veil, "and it isn't over yet. Mr. Erveng, allow me to introduce to you my brother, Felix Rose."

While the introduction was going on, papa came into the room, and the expression of his face was something that can't be described when he found that the two ladies to whom he had bowed when he entered were indeed Phil and I. Mr. Erveng stated the case as briefly as possible, making much more light of it than we had expected, and handed to papa the pages of the Fetich that Phil had brought to him. Papa said very little, but his face grew quite pale, and he accompanied Mr. Erveng to the door, where they stood talking for a few minutes; then Mr. Erveng went away.

Fee had disappeared with our bonnets and veils,—we would willingly have divested ourselves of the other garments as well, but we knew he was not equal to the accumulation of pillows, shawls, and gowns which that would involve,—and we were sitting in dead silence when papa returned, and, opening the folding doors, motioned us to go into the study.

Nannie sat there writing; but the merry little laugh with which she greeted our entrance died quickly away as she guessed what we had been doing, and her low, "Oh, Phil, oh, Betty, howcouldyou!" made me feel more ashamed than a scolding would have.

Papa put the two chapters of the Fetich carefully away; then he took his seat at his desk and said, "Now I wish to hear the meaning of this most extraordinary and unwarrantable behaviour."

For an instant neither of us spoke; then, just as I opened my mouth, Phil began. He made a very short story of it,—how, through Max, we had heard of Mr. Erveng's being a publisher, and how the story about his liking fat old ladies had put the idea into our heads to dress up and call on him, and interest him in papa's book.

Papa frowned at us over his glasses. "What has Mr. Erveng to do with my book?" he asked, sternly. "And why did my son put my most cherished work into a stranger's hands without my knowledge?"

"Because—" began Phil; then he got as red asa beet, and stood plucking at the skirt of nurse's gown without another word.

I felt sorry for Phil. I knew that, like me, he had done it in the interest of the whole family; so when papa said a little sharply, "I am waiting for an answer, Philip," I said very quickly, "Please don't be angry with Phil, papa; we did it because we thought if Mr. Erveng knew of the Fet—book, he'd want to buy it, and then perhaps you would finish it, and sell it for a lot of money, and then Fee—um—eh—we could do lots of things."

Just then the study door opened, and in came Felix, quite out of breath from hurrying up and down stairs. He saw Phil's downcast face, and hastening forward, laid his hand on Phil's shoulder, saying, "I deserve a full share of Phil's scolding, father. Betty evidently carried out her scheme without assistance, but I dressed Phil, and helped him to get off without being seen. So I know, sir, that I ought to share his punishment."

"I see; then this was a conspiracy to force me to finish my work and sell it," said papa, slowly, with a grieved, shocked look in his eyes; then, turning to Nannie, he asked unsteadily: "Areyouin it, too? Margaret—your mother—used to urge me to—write slowly—but—perhaps I have lingered too long over it. I thank you," with a look at us, "for recalling meto my duty, though I think it would have been kinder to have spoken to me, rather than to have gone to a stranger in this way. I will finish the History—as soon—as I can."

There was no anger in papa's voice, but a hurt tone that went right to my heart, and made me horribly ashamed, while Nannie flew to his side and threw her arms around his neck. "Don't take it to heart, dear papa," she pleaded, pressing her cheek against his face. "It was only thoughtlessness on their part; theydidn'tmean to grieve you, I know they didn't. Oh, boys, Betty, speak up and assure papa of this."

I began to cry out loud. Idespisecrying, and I know papa hates it, but I simplyhadto sob, or I would have choked. The boys felt badly, too. Fee leaned on the desk and said, low and very earnestly, "I amsoashamed of myself, father. And I know Phil is, too."

"I've made a great ass of myself," growled poor Phil. "I wish, sir, that you'd give me a thrashing, as if I were a little shaver,—a sound one; I know I deserve it."

But papa loosed Nannie's arms from about his neck, and put her gently from him. "My dear," he said wearily, "I—I—wish you would make them all go; I want to be alone."

Papa did not come down to dinner that evening, and we were a very subdued party, thoughNora tried to cheer Phil up by telling him that she knew he had done what he had for the benefit of the whole family,—she didn't tellmethat!

"Yes," answered our eldest brother, gloomily, "it was my first attempt at that sort of philanthropy, and it'll be my last—stop staring at me, Jack, or I'll throw a bread-pill at you."

"Is that what you call it, Philip?" said Miss Marston, lifting her eyebrows. "It seems to me more like that love of practical joking and the self-will that your mother was so constantly warning you and Betty against."

"Indeed, then, you're right, ma'am," put in nurse, who happened to be in the room, adding, with a pointed glance at me, "I wonder what the dear lady would 'a' said to this day's conductions!"

And not one of us had a word to say in reply, for we well knew how grieved she would have been.

BETTY!Bet-ty!" called Nannie from the foot of the stairs, "tell Jack that he's got just about three minutes more, as papa has started to put on his overcoat, and he does so dislike to have us late for church. Do make him hurry!"

But that, as I knew very well, was easier said than done, for Jack hates to hurry. Almost at the last minute, when we had gathered in the schoolroom to let Miss Marston see us before we started out with papa for church, it was discovered that Jack's boots needed cleaning. So now he was up in the attic, brushing away at them, and singing with all his might,—

"Thy gardens and thy goodly walksContinually are green,Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowersAs nowhere else are seen.Right through thy streets, with pleasing sound,The living waters flow;And on the banks on either side,The trees of life do grow."

"Thy gardens and thy goodly walksContinually are green,Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowersAs nowhere else are seen.Right through thy streets, with pleasing sound,The living waters flow;And on the banks on either side,The trees of life do grow."

Jack was just beginning the last line of this verse when Nannie called to me; so I let him finish, then I shouted up the attic stairs, "Jack, you've just got about two minutes and a half; papa has started to put on his overcoat. Are you ready?"

"Most," Jack answered; "I've got one more heel to do,"—as if he'd had a dozen or so! and he actually started on another verse of the hymn.

I flew up the attic steps and gazed indignantly at him through the railings: "You are the most provoking boy I ever knew," I said, "and the biggest poke! I do believe youloveto be late. There's everybody down in the hall ready to start, and here you are loitering as if you had hours to spare."

illus100"'BETTY!BET-TY!' CALLED NANNIE."

"Are you two coming, or are you not?" cried Phil from the hall below. "The procession is ready to start, and woe to stragglers! If servicebegan at twelve instead of eleven o'clock, Jack, you'd still be late. Come on, Betty."

"I declare, if you aren't all the greatest pack of naggers!" exclaimed Jack, impatiently, throwing down the blacking brushes and snatching up his hat; then he raced after us down the stairs and brought up the rear as we filed out of the front door.

There are always so many of us to go to church—all of us children (except Alan, who goes to the children's service in the afternoon), and Miss Marston and papa—that we do make, as Phil says, a regular procession as we walk down the avenue and across the park to the old brown church every Sunday. I don't mind going in the procession, nor does Jack,—unless he'sverylate; but Nora thinks it's horrid, and Phil and Felix always hang back for the very last, and try to look as if they didn't belong to us at all. Nannie and Mädel go with papa, Kathie and Paul with Miss Marston, and the rest of us straggle along as we like until we get to the church. It's brown and very large, and has a good deal of ivy growing all over it. It's the church where Murray Unsworth and Helen Vassah stood sponsors for their little cousin Paul; they go there and their grandfather and grandmother.

Papa likes to sit away up front; so up the middle aisle we go,—oh, how the boys and Nora hate this part!—and file into the first two pews.We are always early, and sometimes it does seem so long before service begins. Jack and I sit at the upper end of the first pew, and I couldn't tell you how many times we have read the Creed and Commandments that are printed back of the chancel, and the memorials on each side. Then we look out the hymns for the day, and read them all through. Jack likes to do this; he has all sorts of odd ideas about them; for instance, he says that when he sings,

"Christian! dost thou see themOn the holy ground,How the powers of darknessRage thy steps around?Christian! up and smite them,Counting gain but loss;In the strength that comethBy the holy cross,"

"Christian! dost thou see themOn the holy ground,How the powers of darknessRage thy steps around?Christian! up and smite them,Counting gain but loss;In the strength that comethBy the holy cross,"

he somehow always thinks of the picture in papa's study of St. Michael and the Angel. He says he can see, right in his mind, the great beautiful angel of light triumphant in the strength of God, and under his feet the stormy evil face of the conquered Lucifer. I've got so now that I too think of the picture when I sing the hymn, and of the hymn when I look at the picture.

Then in the other hymn, where it says,

"Finding, following, keeping, struggling,Is He sure to bless?'Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs,Answer, Yes,'"

"Finding, following, keeping, struggling,Is He sure to bless?'Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs,Answer, Yes,'"

Jack says he sees—just like a picture—a steep hill up which a whole lot of people are striving, with all their might, to climb; they're poor and tired and sick and lame, but they struggle bravely on; and by the beautiful gates at the top of the hill stands One grand and white and shining, wearing a golden crown. He bends forward and takes hold of each tired traveller as soon as he is within reach, and helps him safe within the gates; and in the hands that do this are "wound-prints." Jack always shuts his eyes and lowers his voice when he tells us about this thought of his; only Nannie and I know of it, and while I am hearing about it I always feel quiet.

How hedoesenjoy singing! His little body seems to expand, and you'd be astonished at the noise that he can make. This particular Sunday that I am telling you about my ears were fairly ringing as Jack joined in the chorus of "Onward, Christian Soldiers," and I wasn't sorry when Phil leaned over from behind and whispered, "Say, Rosebud, you're not detailed to lead the choir, you know."

Even the choir-master looked at him; but, perfectly regardless of everything and everybody, Jack sang through the five long verses, and sat down with the air of having thoroughly enjoyed himself.

I made up my mind, though, that I'd say something about it on our way home; but justas we were coming down the church steps Jack gave my arm a nudge. "There are your friends," he said, with a grin,—"the two of 'em; just see Phil and Felix scoot!" And when I turned quickly to see, who should it be but Mr. Erveng and Hilliard!

Mr. Erveng has been over to call on papa since that horrid afternoon that he escorted Phil and me home; but Hilliard didn't come with him, and we weren't sorry,—I mean Phil and I,—for we both felt foolish about meeting him; we hadn't forgotten that giggle of his when we took off our bonnets and veils that day in his father's library, and I think we both felt that we didn't want to know him any better.

Mr. Erveng and papa walked across the park together, talking, and as we all followed behind,—Felix and Phil were out of sight,—who should come up beside me and lift his hat but that Hilliard! "May I walk with you part way home?" he asked, "I want to say something to you."

He speaks slowly, deliberately, and has a way of half-closing his eyes when he's talking, that gives him a sleepy look,—though he can open them very wide too, sometimes; and he's sallow, and has lots of freckles. Altogether, he isn't nearly as good-looking as our boys, or Murray Unsworth; still he has rather a nice face, and we've found out that he is just as gentle andnice as a girl to his mother,—I mean in waiting on her and doing things for her. But all the same, I don't know whether I like him or not; you see he's never had a sister, never been much with girls, and he's got such silly, prim ideas about them.

Well, to go back: when he asked that, I said, "Oh, yes, I suppose so;" but Jack says my tone wasn't very polite. I didn't mean to be impolite, but seeing him brought that horrid afternoon right to my mind, and I could just hear him giggle all over again; I assure you Phil and I'll not try that sort of thing again,—not if the Fetich never gets sold.

And evidently that was in his mind, too; for he said, "I want to apologise for being so rude as to laugh that day in my father's office,"—that's the way he talks, so formal, as if he were as old as papa,—"and for guarding—"

"We didn't think it was at all polite, I must say," I broke in.

But he went right on; that's another of his ways,—if one interrupts him fifty times in a remark, he'll listen, but make no reply until he's finished what he started out to say. Now I think that's provoking,—I wonder how he'd get on if he lived in our family!—and it makes the person that interrupts feel very small and nettled, too. "And for guarding you and your brother home, as if I doubted your word," he finished.

Well, now, do you know, I hadn't ever thought about that part,—his going along to guard us,—until he said this; and then, all at once, I felt very angry. "I think itwasvery,veryrude of you," I said decidedly, "and I really wish you would go away and walk with your father, or by yourself—"

"Why,Betty!" exclaimed Jack, in surprise; then, leaning across me, he said politely, "Pleasedon't think that Betty is a rude girl, for indeed she isn't; but she is awfully quick-tempered, and when she gets mad she is apt to say lots of things that she doesn't mean. She is really quite a nice girl. I'm Jack Rose, her brother; so you see I ought to know."

"So you should; I'm glad to meet you," Hilliard said, shaking hands with Jack. Then he added to me: "Idohope you and your brother will let us be friendly. I've told my mother about you both, and she wants so much to know you and your sisters. Perhaps some of you would come over and see her? She is very much of an invalid, and is not able to go out, except for a drive now and then; but when she is well enough to see them, she enjoys having visitors."

I was ashamed of having spoken so sharply, but Ididn'twant to go and see Mrs. Erveng; so all I could say was, in a lame sort of way, "Thank you; perhaps—if papa says we may."

Instead of letting the matter drop there, he must needs go on: "I have tried several times to speak to your brother,—at college, and once on the street,—but he seems to avoid me," he said. "I wanted to explain to him; I was afraid you might think my father was severe, but he really didn't beli—he didn't suppose—that is, the young people we've known—" He stopped, looking awfully red and embarrassed, then ended up with, "I'm afraid I'm making an awful muddle of it, but I'm really very sorry; I hope you and your brother will understand that."

By "brother" I think he meant Phil, but Jack took it to himself. "Of course, oh, certainly," he said, nudging my elbow to say likewise, and bobbing his head round my shoulder.

But I wouldn't, for I understood, just as well as if Hilliard'd said it, that he—they all—thought our coming over to his house, as we had done, to sell the Fetich, was a very queer proceeding. Miss Marston had said that they must think me very unladylike. She so often tells me people think that of me that I've got used to it and don't mind; but I feltveryuncomfortable when it occurred to me that perhaps this boy and his father and mother thought so too. "Why didn't you say right out that you thought my dressing up and coming over to your house that way was very queer and unladylike?" I demanded. "Iknow it's what you think." He opened his mouth to speak, but I went on quickly: "Pooh! that'snothingto what Icando. I can slide down three flights of banisters without one swerve, and make worse faces than any one we know, and whistle, and brandish Indian clubs, and fence and climb besides, and, oh! lots of other things that only boys do; why, I'm strong enough to be able to thrash Jack—therenow!"

"I'd just like to see you try it!" put in Jack, hastily, ruffling up; then, in an undertone, with a nudge of his elbow, "Oh, come now, Betty,dobehave yourself."

But Hilliard just looked at me—his eyes were wide enough open now—as if I were some strange kind of animal; he really looked shocked. I wondered what he would think of some of my performances at home, and I couldn't resist saying, "I suppose the girls that you know never do such things?"

"Not when they are as old or as tall as you are," he answered quietly.

Just then Miss Marston and the little ones and Nannie and Nora came up to us, so I introduced Hilliard to them, and as soon as we saw that Nora was talking to him, Jack and I dropped behind and kept there.

"Betty," said Jack, severely, as we turned away, "you are really a most provoking girl! I told that boy that you were nice, and you turnedright round and actedabominably. What possessed you? I didn't hear him say one thing to make you angry."

"Jack," I answered, "sometimes you're as dense as a London fog. That boy is a conceited poke because he has no sister; and you'd be just like him if I weren't here to train you."

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Jack, indignantly. "Talking about conceit,—where do you put yourself?"

Two hands came suddenly between us; a pleasant voice said, "Let's talk about the sermon, and see which of us remembers most of it;" and there was Max. He had been in church, he said, but stopping to speak to some one had detained him, and he was now going home to have dinner with us,—which meant a visit with papa after dinner, and then a nice long talk with us in the schoolroom. Max is so nice about that; he never slights us. In fact, I think he spends more and more time with us, for he and Nannie have started in to play violin and piano duets together, and he comes one week-evening to practise. He has lent her his violin,—a beauty!—and he takes the piano part. His ward—"the great Shad," as Phil and Felix call him—has not yet arrived; but Max told us this Sunday, as we walked along, that he expected him to be in the city very soon, "and then," he said, "I shall bring him round to be introduced to you young people."

When we reached our house, Hilliard said good-bye, and ran across to his own gate; but Max, Mr. Erveng,—Max has been to call on the Ervengs, and has renewed acquaintance with his college-mate,—and papa stood talking for a few minutes before they separated. As we entered our door, Nannie was right behind me, and I heard her say to Felix in a low voice, "Look at papa as he stands between those two men; don't you think he looksveryold and worn?"

"Well, he's years older than they, isn't he?" asked Fee, turning to look. I too craned my neck for a glimpse, but barely caught sight of the top of papa's hat over Phil's shoulder.

"Not so many," Nannie said; "he is eight years older than Mr. Erveng, and ten years older than Max. Not enough to show such a difference."

"Why, he looks twenty years older than either of them;" then, lowering his voice,—but I heard him,—Felix added, "Poor oldpater! He seems to enjoy talking to Mr. Erveng; but do you know, Nannie, I'mawfullysorry we played that joke about the Fetich. I fancy he hasn't been quite the same since."

"No, he hasn't, and he's working desperately to get the book finished; he even works in the evening, when he used to read as a recreation. I hope he won't get ill." Then the frontdoor closed, and there was a general rush upstairs to take off coats and hats.

I wasn't very happy the rest of that day; Nannie's remark about papa, and what that disagreeable boy across the way had said, kept coming back and coming back to me, so that I really got quite unhappy over it, until I told Nannie the whole thing that night, and then I began to feel better. Though Nannie always tells you right out if you've been wrong, she is also sure to say something to comfort you.

I was in the schoolroom the next afternoon, practising, when suddenly the door flew open, and in bounced Jack, in a state of wild excitement. "Oh, think of it!thinkof it, Betty!" he exclaimed joyously, "I'm going to sing—tosing! just think of it!"

"Why, you've been doing that for a long time, haven't you?" I asked, with a lively recollection of what I had endured only yesterday.

"Oh, but this is different; it's to be in church,—I mean in thechoir,—and I'm to bepaidfor it!"

"What! really?" I gasped in astonishment. "Why, Jack!Dotell me all about it!"

illus112"'WHY, YOU'VE BEEN DOING THAT FOR A LONG TIME,HAVEN'T YOU?' I ASKED."

This he was only too delighted to do; but he was so excited that he could not sit still, and he kept walking backward and forward before me while he was speaking. "Well, it was this way," he said; "just now, while I was playingin the yard, Hannah said papa wanted to see me. Of course I thought right away that something must be wrong, and I didn't feel very happy over it, I can tell you; but when I got to the study, there was papa with a big piece of news for me. Mr. Hawkins from our church had come to see him to ask if he would let me sing in the choir, and was waiting in the drawing-room for my answer! Why, I'd have been glad to sing there for nothing, you know; but when papa went on, and said I would get fifty cents for each Sunday that I sang, I was so delighted, Betty, that I really couldn't say a word. But I guess papa knew by my face how overjoyed I was, for he patted my shoulder and said, 'Well, then, you can go in the drawing-room and tell Mr. Hawkins that you will accept his offer, and be at rehearsal on Friday evening;' and then he spoke about what an honour it was to be chosen to sing God's praises in His own house. I tell you what, Betty, I'm going to try to be a very,verygood boy; now aren't you glad for me?"

Indeed Iwasglad, and I told him so; and then what do you think he said? Why, he came close to me, with his clasped hands behind his back, and rocked himself to and fro on his heels and toes; his eyes were shining with delight. "Betty," he said, "I'm to get fifty cents a week at first, and more, Mr. Hawkins says, just as soon as I can read music readily. NowI'm not going to spend one cent of it,—not a single penny. I'm going to save it up until I get a lot, and then,—what d'you think? I'm going tosend Felix to college! Isn't that a splendid scheme? now isn't it? You see," he went on eagerly, "I've been praying for a way for Fee to go,—you have, too, haven't you? and Nannie,—and I think God has just answered our prayers by letting me get this."

"Yes; but won't it take an awfully long time at that rate to save enough to send Fee?" I asked.

"Oh, not soverylong," Jack replied cheerfully. In the exuberance of his joy he took hold of the schoolroom table and threw his heels in the air; he looked so funny that I could have roared with laughter,—Jack is as clumsy as a cow! Then all at once he remembered something, and coming over to me said, very impressively, "Now, remember, Betty, you're not to say one word about this to Fee,—not a word; I sha'n't mention it to any one beside you, but Nannie, and she wouldn't tell; and then, when we've got enough, we'll give it to Fee, and tell him what it's for. Hoopla!" And again he embraced the table and threw his heels in the air.

TWO or three days after this—after school hours—Nannie came flying into the schoolroom, where we all were, and announced that some of us had been invited to take tea with the Ervengs that afternoon. While we sat in surprised silence, she went rapidly on to explain: "Such a nice little note to papa, written by Mrs. Erveng: this is one of her 'good days,' and she would like so much to make our acquaintance; would four of us come over and take tea, etc. Hilliard brought the note just now, and papa told him that some of us would be happy to accept." She paused and looked mischievous as a groan broke from us. "I know you are all dying to hear who are to go," she said, "so I'll put you out of your suspense at once; Phil—"

"No, you don't! I haven't any 'bunnit,'" broke in Phil. "You don't catch me going over there again in a hurry, I can tell you."

"But you ought to go, Phil, really you ought,"Nannie said. "You and Betty ought to go over and apologise to Mr. and Mrs. Erveng for the way in which you two Goths invaded their house. Fee, papa says you are to go, too," she added to her twin.

"Oh, but this is too bad of thepater!" exclaimed Felix, colouring up; "he knows how I hate to go among strange people. I declare, Iwon'tgo!"

"Go tell the governor so—gonow, while you're in the humour for it," urged Phil, with suspicious eagerness; "and—um—while you're about it, you know, just mention incidentally that those are my sentiments, too, will you?"

"Nonie, you're to lend grace to the entertainment," went on Nannie, with twinkling eyes.

"Who, me? I?" exclaimed Nora, quickly. "Oh!" Then, recovering herself the next minute, she said coolly, "Well, I'm perfectly willing to go; for that matter" (with that superior air that does so provoke us), "some of us ought to have gone long ago, and called on the Ervengs,—Miss Marston says so, too,—to apologise for and explain the, to say the least very peculiar, conduct of some other members of our family." And here she looked at me,—just as if Phil were not more to blame than I in that horrid affair of the Fetich!

I made a face, and Phil said: "Oh, come, now, Nora, we've heard that before; so dospare us the rest. Who else is to be a victim, Nancy?"

"Betty fills up the sum of the 'some,'" answered Nannie; "papa thinks she certainly ought—"

"Iwon'tgo, I won't, I will not," I interrupted. "That boy is too conceited for anything, and I'm not going over there to be criticised,—so now! I don't want any of their old tea, and I'd just like to be ill or to hide away or something, so's not to go."

"Let's you and I run away," suggested Phil, in a stage whisper behind his hand; then, striking an attitude, he extended his long arms: "Come, fair damsel, come, we'll fly to other climes,—the attic or the cellar,anywhere, so it be not to the Ervengs'." He made a sudden snatch at me, but I was prepared,—I know him of old!—and, dodging under his arm, darted round the table and soon put a wide distance between us.

"Then nobody's going," asserted Jack; he sat on the edge of the schoolroom table, grinning and hugging his knees, which were drawn up to his chin.

"Not a one!" "No,sir!" "No,indeed!" answered Phil, Felix, and I, in one breath.

"I do think you are all the rudest, most unmannerly creatures!" exclaimed Nora, indignantly. "These people have been polite enoughto invite us to their house, have taken the trouble to prepare for us, when really the attention should have come from us to them, and here you all act as if they had insulted us. Positively, you are a most uncouth set.Iam very much pleased with Mrs. Erveng's invitation, and I am going, if no one else does. Rude things!"

She started for the door; but Phil got before her, and salaamed to the floor. "Whatwouldwe do without you, O most noble and elegant Eleanora!" he cried, as he bobbed up and down; and limping over, Fee stared at her through and under and over his glasses. "Friends," he exclaimed, turning to us and putting on an expression of intense astonishment, "allow me to call your attention to this remarkably healthy variety of a well-known plant, Miss"—with a wave of his hand toward Nora—"Miss Prim Rose."

"You think that's very smart, don't you?" Nora said, getting red, and tossing her head. Jack flew down from the table, and over to Nora's side, calling out, "Now you just stop teasing her, Felix!" and Phil threw an arm round her, and pulled her down on his lap, saying, "Don't ruffle yourself over such trifles, old lady; keep cool!"

I laughed, and Nannie put in quickly, "Nora is quite right: itwasour place, as old residents, to call first on the Ervengs,—particularly under the Fetich circumstances; and when they are kind enough to overlook our remissness, and invite us to visit them, we ought at least to appreciate the attention, not rail at it. Anyway, it was papa who decided which of us should go. I would certainly have been included in the number had I not something to do for him this afternoon and evening; I would have liked to go. So do behave yourselves!"

"Nancy Lee on etiquette," said Felix, with a grimace, while Nora struggled away from Phil's encircling arm with a sharp, "OfcourseI am right!" and stalked out of the room, her nose in the air.

Now perhaps you think because we said all this that we didn't go to the Ervengs'; well, we did, the whole four of us, and that very afternoon. Though we fret and fume over things beforehand, we generally end by doing just as papa says about them. One reason for this is that, when it comes to the point, none of us are willing to tell him that we won't obey. Papa's very gentle, but he expects us to do as he says, and dear mamma always made us mind; so, as I said, it generally ends by our following orders. Still, sometimes it is a great satisfaction to "spunk up" beforehand, as Phil calls it, and just speak out our minds in the bosom of our family. And after that,—it's the funniest thing! but doyou know, we'll almost always turn right round and do just what we said we wouldn't do, as meek as lambs. I don't know if all large families are like this, but it's our way.

Well, to go back to the tea. Nora was very glum on the way over,—she usually is when she's on her high horse,—but the boys seemed to be in great spirits, for they just giggled to the Ervengs' very door, and barely had a straight face when Buttons appeared. I fancied that he looked curiously at me, and I wondered uncomfortably if he knew that Phil and I were the two fat old black-robed ladies he had admitted the other day.

Mr. Erveng was out, for which Phil and I weren't sorry; but Hilliard met us in the hall and took us upstairs to his mother's sitting-room, where she was lying in an invalid's chair with a white shawl round her shoulders. She's very pretty,—Hilliard isn't a bit like her,—but she looks very delicate and fragile; why, her hands are likemites, and she's very,verygentle, and speaks in a low voice. She welcomed us very cordially, and said she thought it was so kind of us to come,—here I thought of our remarks at home, and didn't dare look at Phil and Fee,—and she and Nora seemed to get on nicely.

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