Betty Vivian Part 5

"Don't interrupt me," said Betty. "When Uncle John asked me about the packet I said 'No,' of course; and I mean to say 'No' again, and again, and again, and again, if ever I'm questioned about it. For didn't auntie say it was for us? And what right has he to interfere?"

"It does sound awfully interesting!" exclaimed Sylvia. "I do hope you've put it in a very, very safe place, Betty?"

Betty laughed softly. "Do you remember the little, old-fashioned pockets auntie always wore inside her dress--little, flat pockets made of very strong calico? Well, it's in one of those; and I mean to secure a safer hiding-place for it when I get to that abominable Court. Now perhaps we'd better go to sleep."

"Yes; I am dead-sleepy," responded Sylvia.

By and by her gentle breathing showed that she was in the land of slumber. Hetty quickly followed her twin-sister's example. But Betty lay wide awake. She was lying flat on her back, and looking out into the sort of twilight which still seemed to pervade the great moors. Her eyes were wide open, and wore a startled, fixed expression, like the eyes of a girl who was seeing far beyond what she appeared to be looking at.

"Yes, I have done right," she said to herself. "There must always be an open door, and this is my open door; and I hope G.o.d, and auntie up in heaven, will forgive me for having told that lie. And I hope G.o.d, and auntie up in heaven, will forgive me if I tell it again; for I mean to go on telling it, and telling it, and telling it, until I have spent all that money."

While Betty lay thinking her wild thoughts, Sir John Crawford, downstairs, made a shrewd and careful examination of the different articles of furniture which had been left in the little stone house by his old friend, Miss Frances Vivian. Everything was in perfect order.

She was a lady who abhorred disorder, who could not endure it for a single moment. All her letters and her neatly receipted bills were tied up with blue silk, and laid, according to date, one on top of the other.

Her several little trinkets, which eventually would belong to the girls, were in their places. Her last will and testament was also in the drawer where she had told Sir John he would find it. Everything was in order--everything, exactly as the poor lady had left it, with the exception of the little sealed packet. Where was it? Sir John felt puzzled and distressed. He had not an idea what it contained; for Miss Vivian, in her letter to him, had simply asked him to take care of it for her nieces, and had not made any comment with regard to its contents. Sir John certainly could not accuse the girls of purloining it. After some pain and deliberate thought, he decided to go out and speak to the old servants, who were still up, in the kitchen. They received him respectfully, and yet with a sort of sour expression which was natural to their homely Scotch faces.

Donald rose silently, and asked the gentleman if he would seat himself.

"No, Donald," replied Sir John in his hearty, pleasant voice; "I cannot stay. I am going to bed, being somewhat tired."

"The bit chamber is no' too comfortable for your lordship," said Jean, dropping a profound curtsey.

"The chamber will do all right. I have slept in it before," said Sir John.

"Eh, dear, now," said Jean, "and you be easy to please."

"I want you, Jean Macfarlane, to call the young ladies and myself not later than five o'clock to-morrow morning, and to have breakfast ready at half-past five; and, Donald, we shall require the dogcart to drive to the station at six o'clock. Have you given orders about the young ladies' luggage? It ought to start not later than four to-morrow morning to be in time to catch the train."

"Eh, to be sure," said Donald. "It's myself has seen to all that. Don't you fash yourself, laird. Things'll be in time. All me and my wife wants is that the bit la.s.sies should have every comfort."

"I will see to that," said Sir John.

"We'll miss them, puir wee things!" exclaimed Jean; and there came a glint of something like tears into her hard and yet bright blue eyes.

"I am sure you will. You have, both of you, been valued servants both to my cousin and her nieces. I wish to make you a little present each."

Here Sir John fumbled in his pocket, and took out a couple of sovereigns.

But the old pair drew back in some indignation. "Na, na!" they exclaimed; "it isn't our love for them or for her as can be purchased for gowd."

"Well, as you please, my good people. I respect you all the more for refusing. But now, may I ask you a question?"

"And whatever may that be?" exclaimed Jean.

"I have looked through your late mistress's effects----"

"And whatever may 'effects' be?" inquired Donald.

"What she has left behind her."

"Ay, the laird uses grand words," remarked Donald, turning to his wife.

"Maybe," said Jean; "but its the flavor of the Scotch in the speech that softens my heart the most."

"Well," said Sir John quickly, "there's one little packet I cannot find.

Miss Vivian wrote to me about it in a letter which I received after her death. I haven't an idea what it contained; but she seemed to set some store by it, and it was eventually to be the property of the young ladies."

"Puir lambs! Puir lambs!" said Jean.

"I have questioned them about it, but they know nothing."

"And how should they, babes as they be?" said Jean.

"You'll not be offended, Jean Macfarlane and Donald Macfarlane, if I ask you the same question?"

Jean flushed an angry red for a moment; but Donald's shrewd face puckered up in a smile.

"You may ask, and hearty welcome," he said; "but I know no more aboot the bit packet than the la.s.sies do, and that's naucht at all."

"Nor me no more than he," echoed Jean.

"Do you think, by any possibility, any one from outside got into the house and stole the little packet?"

"Do I think!" exclaimed Jean. "Let me tell you, laird, that a man or woman as got in here unbeknownst to Donald and me would go out again pretty quick with a flea in the ear."

Sir John smiled. "I believe you," he said. He went upstairs, feeling puzzled. But when he laid his head on his pillow he was so tired that he fell sound asleep. The sleep seemed to last but for a minute or two when Jean's harsh voice was heard telling him to rise, for it was five o'clock in the morning. Then there came a time of bustle and confusion.

The girls, with their faces white as sheets, came down to breakfast in their usual fashion--hand linked within hand. Sir John thought, as he glanced at them, that he had never seen a more desolate-looking little trio. They hardly ate any of the excellent food which Jean had provided.

The good baronet guessed that their hearts were full, and did not worry them with questions.

The pile of deal boxes had disappeared from the narrow hall and was already on its way to Dunstan Station, where they were to meet a local train which would presently enable them to join the express for London.

There was a bewildered moment of great anguish when Jean caught the la.s.sies to her breast, when the dogs cl.u.s.tered round to be embraced and hugged and patted. Then Donald, leading the horse (for there was no room for him to ride in the crowded dogcart), started briskly on the road to Dunstan, and Craigie Muir was left far behind.

By and by they all reached the railway station. The luggage was piled up on the platform. Sir John took first-cla.s.s tickets to London, and the curious deal boxes found their place in the luggage van. Donald's grizzly head and rugged face were seen for one minute as the train steamed out of the station. Betty clutched at the side of her dress where Aunt Frances' old flat pocket which contained the packet was secured. The other two girls looked at her with a curious mingling of awe and admiration, and then they were off.

Sir John guessed at the young people's feelings, and did not trouble them with conversation. By and by they left the small train and got into a compartment reserved for them in the London express. Sir John did everything he could to enliven the journey for his young cousins. But they were taciturn and irresponsive. Betty's wonderful gray eyes looked out of the window at the pa.s.sing landscape, which Sir John was quite sure she did not see; Sylvia and Hester were absorbed in watching their sister. Sir John had a queer kind of feeling that there was something wrong with the girls' dress; that very coa.r.s.e black serge, made with no attempt at style; the coa.r.s.e, home-made stockings; the rough, hobnailed boots; the small tam-o'-shanter caps, pushed far back from the little faces; the uncouth worsted gloves; and then the deal boxes! He had a kind of notion that things were very wrong, and that the girls did not look a bit at his own darling f.a.n.n.y looked, nor in the least like the other girls he had seen at Haddo Court. But Sir John Crawford had been a widower for years, and during that time had seen little of women. He had not the least idea how to remedy what looked a little out of place even at Craigie Muir, but now that they were flying south looked much worse.

Could he possibly spare the time to spend a day in a London hotel, and buy the girls proper toilets, and have their clothes put into regulation trunks? But no, in the first place, he had not the time; in the second, he would not have the slightest idea what to order.

They all arrived in London late in the evening. Sylvia and Hetty had been asleep during the latter part of the journey, but Betty still sat bolt upright and wide awake. It was dusk now, and the lamp in the carriage was lit. It seemed to throw a shadow on the girl's miserable face. She was very young--only the same age as Sir John's dear f.a.n.n.y; and yet how different, how pale, how full of inexpressible sadness was that little face! Those gray eyes of hers seemed to haunt him! He was the kindest man on earth, and would have given worlds to comfort her; but he did not know what to do.

CHAPTER IV

RECEPTION AT HADDO COURT

Having made up her mind to receive the Vivian girls, Mrs. Haddo arranged matters quite calmly and to her entire satisfaction. There was no fuss or commotion of any kind; and when Sir John appeared on the following morning, with the six deal boxes and the three girls dressed in their coa.r.s.e Highland garments, they were all received immediately in Mrs.

Haddo's private sitting-room.

"I have brought the girls, Mrs. Haddo," said Sir John. "This is Betty.