Letty and the Twins Part 30

Hartwell-Jones for half an hour or so, then departed again for New York.

Mrs. Hartwell-Jones ordered still another taxicab.

"We have over two hours before our train leaves, dear, and so suppose we drive about to the different places you know about. Would you like to?

Do you remember the street and number where your Miss Reese used to live?"

Letty gave the address, which was quite near by, and as they drove past the house she related again, with eager interest, the exciting tale of the fire. Then they were driven down Chestnut Street and Letty's eyes shone as they pa.s.sed the shops she recollected having visited with Miss Reese on the memorable Christmas shopping expedition.

"Is this where you had your first taste of ice-cream soda-water?" asked Mrs. Hartwell-Jones as the cab stopped in front of a large candy shop.

"Then we must have some now, for old times' sake. And let us take a box of candy back to the twins."

They did a good deal of shopping, of one sort or another, and then Mrs.

Hartwell-Jones gave the chauffeur a direction that made him stare. It brought the tears to Letty's eyes suddenly and a great lump to her throat.

Far down-town they drove, out of the range of stylishly equipped carriages and motor cars; out of the range of big shops and smooth streets. The pavement grew rougher and dirtier, the houses and small shops that lined the street, shabbier and shabbier.

Letty leaned forward out of the carriage window, her eyes large, curious, almost frightened, fixed on each familiar spot as it was pa.s.sed. She clasped her hands tightly together and drew her breath in short, audible inspirations.

"Ah, there is the house, there it is!" she exclaimed at length, and Mrs.

Hartwell-Jones gave the signal to stop.

The cab came to a halt at the curb, the motor continuing to throb with an even, businesslike regularity.

The little motor inside Letty's small body was throbbing too, wildly, now fast and now slow, as she gazed at the shabby, dingy house that had been her home. It looked shabbier and dingier than ever, and there were neither fresh muslin curtains nor blooming plants at the third-story front windows where her mother used to sit and sew.

No familiar faces were to be seen. Several people went in and out of the front door, turning to stare curiously at the lady and little girl sitting in the motor car. But Letty had never seen any of them before.

There were children playing on the door-step next door, but they were not Emma Haines nor Tottie. It all seemed completely changed.

"Oh, dear!" sighed Letty.

Then she turned and threw herself into Mrs. Hartwell-Jones's outstretched arms.

"My mother, my mother!" she sobbed. "How I want my mother!"

Mrs. Hartwell-Jones soothed her as best she could, wondering the while if she had done wrong to bring back the old a.s.sociations.

"I know it is hard, dear little girl," she whispered, "but I think some day you will be glad we came. It will help to fix the picture in your mind. It keeps our memories fresher and more precious, you know, if we have the pictures of their surroundings clearly in our mind.

"Take one last look, dear, and then we shall go. I pray I may be able to keep you as good and happy as your dear mother did, my precious little Letty!"

The cab moved slowly, with increasing speed, away from the dingy street, back to the gay, prosperous part of the city; back to the life that was to be Letty's henceforth.

The child's sobs soon ceased and she drew back from the comforting shoulder. But she still clung to Mrs. Hartwell-Jones's hand for solace, and there were tears in the brown eyes that tried bravely to smile.

"You are so good to me!" she exclaimed. "My mother would be so grateful to you if she knew!"

"She does know, up in heaven. I am sure she does, Letty, dear. And we shall both do our best to keep good and happy, shall we not? for that would please her best.

"And Letty dear, while we are on the subject, may I speak about something else regarding you and me? What do you want to call me, child?

Have you thought about it at all? You know you can't go on calling me Mrs. Hartwell-Jones," she added with a little laugh, to aid Letty's embarra.s.sment. "How would 'Aunt Mary' do?"

Letty looked up shyly.

"I think that would be perfectly beautiful!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed with a happy sigh. "If it is what you would like?" she added hastily.

Mrs. Hartwell-Jones would have liked a sweeter, more intimate t.i.tle, but she guessed that Letty would find it too hard to confer the beloved name of mother upon any one else; so she accepted the other and they were both satisfied and contented.

"'Aunt Mary,'" whispered Letty again and again. "It is a beautiful name and just like yourself, Mrs. Hart-I mean Aunt Mary," she added tremulously.

CHAPTER XXI

CONCLUSION

The twins greeted Letty's return tumultuously. They had been very indignant over her journey and had considered it most unnecessary and thoughtless of Mrs. Hartwell-Jones to take Letty away at such a critical time, thus threatening to upset all their plans. But two days were not so very long.

"You almost spoiled everything, but only almost, so it's all right,"

said Jane magnanimously.

"We did a lot of practicing," added Christopher with his mouth full of chocolate, "and this is fine candy, thank you."

"We've kept the secret splendidly and not a soul knows anything except those who are in it," went on Jane importantly.

In fact, the children were planning an immense surprise for the celebration of the last evening at Sunnycrest. The great scheme was Christopher's idea, and he found some difficulty at first in persuading Letty to take her part in it. She consented at length, partly for the fun of it, partly because she was so happy that she wanted to do whatever any one asked her to do.

A great mystery pervaded the place-a mystery which the grown-ups had to be very careful at times not to see through, for the children found it hard, in their joy and excitement, not to betray secrets. Billy Carpenter was included in the affair, and he and Christopher spent hours every day in the hayloft, rehearsing some private performance which resulted in a good deal of thumping and an occasional hard b.u.mp. They also did a great deal of hammering and sawing, which employment demanded frequent calls upon Jo Perkins's time and even upon Joshua's valuable moments.

Letty and Jane were busy, too, in Jane's room, snipping and sewing away at costumes. They made an unexplained trip into the village one morning in the pony carriage. Jane had her allowance and Letty was enjoying the unexpected, undreamed-of thrill of possessing her own spending money. On their return they smuggled their packages up to Jane's room and confided their purchases to no one but Christopher.

It was evening of the last day of the delightful Sunnycrest house-party.

By general request supper was an hour earlier than usual and none of the children-not even Christopher and Billy Carpenter-ate very much. They were in a constant fidget to have the meal come to an end. Indeed, the two boys excused themselves before it was over and rushed out to help Jo Perkins complete the final arrangements.

When the grown-ups went out to sit on the veranda as usual, they found a transformation. The front lawn had been turned into a circus ring by means of a low, rather wobbly circular railing. An inner railing was staked out with string so as to form a track. Although the autumn daylight still lingered, thanks to Huldah's promptness with the early supper, Joshua had stationed four large stable lanterns at intervals around the ring and Jo Perkins had strung festoons of gay j.a.panese lanterns, left over from the Fourth of July, along the edge of the railing. The veranda chairs had been placed in a row on the driveway, facing this ring.

As the party seated themselves, Christopher's head could be seen every few seconds, bobbing around the corner of the house. Huldah and the two housemaids came out and stood on the veranda and Joshua joined them.

When every one had a.s.sembled Christopher, in rather an extraordinary costume composed of a long mackintosh, boots much too big for him and a silk hat of his grandfather's-with a false band inside to make it fit-strutted into the ring. The long whip he carried proclaimed his character as ringmaster. He mounted on an inverted keg, evidently put there for the purpose.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began in a loud voice, which he tried to make deep and impressive, "we hope you will all enjoy our circus, for we have worked very hard to get it ready." Great applause from the audience, which rather disconcerted the youthful manager. "We have decided not to have a procession," he went on in a more natural voice, "because that would show all our-our acts, and we want to keep the different things we are going to do a secret until you see them. We hope you will enjoy it as-oh, I said that before. Ah-oh-thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your attention. We'll be ready in a minute," and with an abrupt little bow Christopher jumped off the box and clumped away in his big boots at an awkward run.

After a very short interval of waiting he appeared again, this time airily attired in a striped bathing suit, in lieu of tights, followed by Billy Carpenter in like costume.

"Oh, I hope they won't take cold. Fortunately it's a warm night,"

murmured Christopher's mother.

The two boys capered into the ring and proceeded to show off the results of their week of practicing and labor. They turned handsprings and stood on their heads; Billy walked a short distance on his hands and Christopher turned a back somersault landing, a little to every one's surprise, including his own, on his feet. Then they jumped and tumbled together, performing fantastic feats at leap-frog. They were very quick and agile and really rather clever.