Part 2

“No,” she said, with snapping eyes; “I’ll not have the English young lady making fun of our country games. I’ll give her as good as she has in her own country, and I’ll do the best I can for my grandparents as well.”

“Well, I think it’s a shame!” declared Jack. “Here I’ve the loveliest brown cloth rig you ever saw. Cloak and knickerbockers and buckled slippers! Why, Betty, your grand Miss Maxwell would like me a heap better in those togs than in my Tuxedo.”

Betty faltered for an instant, then said:

“Maybe she would, Jack; but the girls and boys haven’t all such fine costumes. Some are just fixed up out of cheese-cloth and waterproofs. No, sir, it isn’t right by quality people to give ’em the kitcheny things we were going to have to eat at the feast, and if we leave out the old-fashioned dinner, there’s no fun in the old-fashioned clothes.”

“All right,” said Jack, who always bowed to Betty’s commands and never presumed to dictate.

And Betty was honest in her motives. It was not at all pride in her handsome home and its beautiful appointments that influenced her; it was the impulse to give of her very best to honor her dear grandparents and their young guest, and it was a more severe disappointment than any one knew, for her to give up the gay and jolly party she had planned for.

But Betty’s determination was of the immovable kind, and every plan for the Puritan party was dropped, and every plan for the proper reception of the guests was pushed forward; and so ably was all this done, that, on Wednesday afternoon, the house was in readiness and the family, in holiday attire, awaited their guests.

The Denniston carriage brought them from the station, and the reunion was a most happy one.

Mr. and Mrs. Irving may have seemed a bit punctilious as to the formal routine of their own house, but that in no way interfered with their hearty expressions of pleasure at finding themselves under their granddaughter’s roof. And they soon showed both by joyous words and manner that they were genuinely glad to meet Jack and Baby Polly and Grandma Kinsey.

Miss Maxwell was not quite as Betty had pictured her. She was quiet and reserved, but she seemed shy rather than haughty.

Betty tried hard to draw her out, but the English girl replied in monosyllables, and though most courteous and polite, was bafflingly unresponsive to the cordial chatter of both Jack and Betty.

“Iceberg!” thought Jack, to himself; “I’ve a good notion to say Boo! and see if she’d jump.”

But he didn’t, for Jack was always on his good behavior when Betty wanted him to be.

Dinner passed off beautifully. Of course, this was not the grand feast,—that was for to-morrow; but the well-cooked and well-served family dinner was a credit to Betty’s household. The evening was a little stiff. All sat primly on the brocaded chairs in the drawing-room and made polite conversation; but there was a certain restraint, which, however, Betty accepted as a necessary result of “having company.”

At last they all went to bed, and Betty lay awake, wondering whether it could be her fault that Miss Maxwell didn’t seem to be enjoying herself. “No,” said her mother, to whom Betty confided her anxiety in a little bedtime chat. “No, dearie, it isn’t your fault, except that perhaps you’re a little overanxious about it all. Perhaps if you’d take Miss Maxwell a little more simply,—a little more as you take May Fordham or Tilly Fenn,—”

“Oh, Mother, I couldn’t talk to Miss Maxwell as—as jokingly as I talk to the other girls! Why, even her name is Evangeline!”

Mrs. McGuire smiled, as she kissed Betty good night. “It is an imposing name,” she said, “but try not to be afraid of it.”

Next morning, Betty did try. She took Miss Maxwell for a sleigh-ride, but they did not make much progress toward chumminess.

It was after luncheon, when the girls went up to Betty’s room for a little chat, that Betty, more perplexed than ever, involuntarily blurted out her anxiety.

“Are you like this at home?” she said, scarcely realizing that the question was extremely personal. “Do you never chum with people?” Miss Maxwell broke into a ringing laugh.

“I’m the chummiest thing in the world,” she said; “I’d love to be chums with you, but I’m so—so afraid of you!”

“Afraid of _me_!” exclaimed Betty, opening her dark eyes wide in astonishment. “Why, it’s scared to death I am of you!”

Then both girls went off into peals of laughter, for Betty’s quick wit caught the real state of the case, and Evangeline, too, saw the truth.

“But I thought you so grand I must be extra polite,” said Betty, as they became calm again.

“And I thought because you were the owner of this big house, I must behave with great dignity! Please be chums. May I call you Betty?”

“I should hope so! I’m still too much afraid to say Evangeline, though.”

“Call me Van, then; lots of my friends do, and I like it.”

“I love it! It makes us friends at once. I think it was the ‘Evangeline’ part of you that scared me most. Why, when I heard that, I made the boys and girls give up our baked beans dinner, and have lobster pâtés and soufflée meringue.”

“A baked beans dinner! What do you mean? My! but that sounds jolly!”

So Betty told Evangeline of the Puritan party that had been set aside because of the unexpected guests.

“Oh, what a shame!” cried Van. “I should have _loved_ it; can’t you get it up again? I can scrabble up a frock, I’m sure! It would be so _much_ more fun than a grand dinner! oh, a thousand times more! Pumpkin-pie and cider and candle-light! Oh! Oh! _Can’t_ you get it back?”

“I don’t see how I could, Van. It’s after two now, and dinner’s at seven. But let’s try. Jack! Jack!”

Jack came at Betty’s call, and he was informed of the wonderful discoveries the two girls had made concerning each other. He looked a little disgusted at Betty’s lack of intuition in the matter, and said: “Whew! what queer things girls are!” but he accepted the new situation, and set his wits to work to help Betty out.

“Why, I should think we could manage it somehow,” he said. “Give Pete and Ellen charge of the dinner part of it; send word to your gorgeous caterer man that the dinner is postponed; and you, Betty, hop into the cutter and fly round and tell those who haven’t any telephone, while I stay here and call up all those who have. I’ll wager they’ll all come.”

Come they did, every one of them. They wore quaint Puritan costumes, which were delightful to look at, if they were made of such humble materials as cheese-cloth and silkoline. The boys were stunning in their picturesque suits, and the dining-room was truly old-fashioned with its onions and red peppers strung from the rafters. The homely viands were eaten with decided enjoyment, and afterward even old Mr. Irving joined in the Virginia Reel.

“I’m so glad,” said Betty, as she and Van went to their rooms after the party was over, “that I learned of your ability to ‘chum,’ before it was too late.”

“I’m glad, too,” said her English guest; “I wouldn’t have missed this experience for anything. I shall always remember what is probably the only Thanksgiving party I shall ever attend.”

II A CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

“Why, of course,” said Betty, “Christmas will be fun, whatever we do; but I mean I’d like to do something specially exciting.”

“Such as?” demanded Jack, her adopted brother.

“Oh, I don’t know; I can’t think of anything. But we can have a party here any time; I’d like to go somewhere else for the day—somewhere where there’s something to see and do.”

“Restless little Betty,” said her mother, smiling. “Well, what do you think of going to Lakewood for a few days?”

Betty looked dubious.

“Lakewood is lovely,” she said, “and I do want to go there again sometime; but it doesn’t seem just right for Christmas. I want to do something more—more—”

“Rackety,” suggested Jack.

“Yes, more gay and festive. I’d like to fly to the North Pole in an air-ship.”

“With flags waving and bands playing?”

“Yes. Wouldn’t it be fun? What could we do, Mother?”

Her mother caressed Betty’s curly head and smiled indulgently at her, as she said:

“Let me think a minute. There must be plenty of places if you’re bent on going away somewhere. How about New York?”

“Oh, that’s just right!” cried Betty. “Let’s all go to New York to spend Christmas, and see the beautiful things there. Oh, _wouldn’t_ we have fun!”

Betty’s eyes fairly shone with delighted anticipation, and she threw a sofa-pillow at Jack to stir him to greater enthusiasm.

“Wake up, Sleepyhead!” she cried. “Come on, let’s plan it all.”

“If you choose,” said her mother, “you might invite Agnes Graham and her brother to go with you.”

“Oh, Mother! That will be grand! We’ll have the greatest time anybody ever had!”

“Glorious!” said Jack, roused to enthusiasm at last. “It will be fine if Jamie, or ‘Stub’ as we call him, is along. When shall we start?”

“Christmas is next week, Thursday, Betty,” said her mother. “Suppose we start about Tuesday and come home on Friday?”

“Just right!” said Betty. “And stay at a fine hotel and go to the shops—and the play? Oh, Mother, could we go to the play?”

“Yes, I think we’ll go to a matinée,” said her mother. “Do you think Mrs. Graham would spare both her children on Christmas day?”

“I don’t know,” said Betty, a little doubtfully, “but I’ll ask her, and I know Agnes and Stub will be crazy to go, so prob’ly we can coax her into it.”

Wheedlesome Betty did “coax Mrs. Graham into it,” though that lady was loath to be separated from her son and daughter at the Christmas season. But the proposed trip was so tempting that permission was finally given, and the four young people were radiant with happiness at the prospect.

“I shall take Lisette,” said Mrs. McGuire, speaking of her own maid, “and if I get too tired to take you children around to all the places you want to go to, she can go with you; she is thoroughly reliable and capable.”

So everything was arranged.

Tuesday proved to be a clear, cold day, and the party started off in high spirits. Of course the Grahams were Betty’s guests for the whole trip.

Though Betty’s large fortune, inherited from her paternal grandfather, was all her own, her mother had been appointed her guardian until she should come of age; and while conscientious and prudent as to expenditures, she also was determined that Betty should be allowed a goodly number of the harmless pleasures that her large income justified her having.

So when the New York trip was decided upon, Mrs. McGuire made every effort to give the children the most enjoyable time possible.

And it was for this reason she proposed taking the two Grahams as guests.

Lisette had been with her mistress a long time, and was well versed in looking after the luggage and all such details, so the party had nothing to do but enjoy every moment. But, noticing a tendency on Jack’s part to make himself useful and attentive, Betty’s mother wisely encouraged it, knowing it was for the boy’s own good.

When they reached New York, the children, used to the quiet village life of Greenborough, were fascinated and almost bewildered by the noise and confusion. Jack had never been in New York before, and Betty only once, but the bustle and rush of the city appealed to them both, and many kindly people smiled as they noted the shining eyes and eager faces of the four friends.

“A taxicab will not hold us all,” said Betty’s mother, “so, Lisette, you take the young ladies and Master James in that one, and, Jack, will you kindly call that electric hansom for you and me?”

Proud to be of service, Jack beckoned to the hansom driver, and soon the two vehicles were whizzing away to the Plaza Hotel, where rooms had been engaged for the party.

“Well, if this isn’t great!” said Stub Graham, who, though addressed by Lisette as “Master James,” was “Stub” to the others. “I say, Betty, you’re the brickiest sort of a brick to ask us to this splendiferous treat!”

Betty smiled happily. She was looking out at the hurrying throngs of people, the tall buildings, the gay shop-windows, and the jam of traffic, with unspeakable delight in the novelty and excitement of the scene.

“And to think of three days of this gorgeousness! Three whole days!” said Agnes, squeezing Betty’s arm in her glee.

They soon reached the hotel and found Betty’s mother and Jack already there and waiting for them in the great entrance-hall.

Betty was a little awed by the splendor all about her, and Agnes and Stub were frankly delighted, and looked around with undisguised interest.

But Jack, feeling a new responsibility as the escort of Mrs. McGuire, had, quite unconsciously, acquired a manner as of one accustomed to elaborate hotels and in no way impressed by them. He seemed quite at home and he paid no attention to the surroundings, but in a simple, unaffected, but perfectly correct fashion, he stood by Betty’s mother, carrying her wrap gracefully over his arm, and holding himself in readiness to obey her slightest wish.

“Where did Jack get that manner?” thought Betty, in amazement, and then she realized that he was acquiring it merely by association with her mother, and through a natural ability to adapt to himself her innate refinement and gracious ways.

Betty was impulsive herself and now, though secretly moved to mirth by Jack’s quiet elegance of manner, she resolved to try harder to improve her own demeanor.

They all went at once to the rooms reserved for them, a beautiful apartment overlooking Central Park.

It was quite a little home of itself, as there was a comfortable sitting-room, attractive dining-room, and four bedrooms with dressing-rooms and baths.

A large room with two beds was allotted to Betty and Agnes, and a similar one across the entrance-hall was for the two boys. Lisette had a small room opening from Mrs. McGuire’s own which adjoined the girls’ room. In a short time bags and trunks were unpacked and a few individual belongings scattered about, and the apartment seemed quite like a private home.

“Why do we have a dining-room?” asked Betty. “Can’t we eat in the big restaurant down-stairs?”

“Sometimes, if you choose,” said her mother. “But I think our Christmas dinner is a personal sort of feast, and I’d like it better here by ourselves.”

“So should I,” agreed Jack. “Lots more fun, Betty.”

“But we’ll dine down-stairs to-night,” went on Mrs. McGuire; “so skip away, girlies, and put on pretty frocks for the occasion.”

“Isn’t it larks!” said Betty, as she and Agnes went to their room to dress. “Look at the beautiful Park! To-morrow we’ll take a ride in it. I wish we could go to-night.”

“I don’t want to go to-night,” returned Agnes. “I’d rather stay here in this beautiful hotel. There’s so much to see.”

“So there is. Hurry and dress. What are you going to wear?”

“I brought my blue voile,” said Agnes. “Mother thought that would be right.”

“So it is; you look lovely in blue. I’m wearing this Dresden silk. They go nicely together.”

Betty expeditiously arranged herself in the pretty light silk frock, and the girls hooked each other up and tied each other’s hair-ribbons, so that when Lisette came to offer her services, they were quite unnecessary. The boys, too, had made good time with their dressing and awaited the girls in the sitting-room.

“Oh, I wish we were going to dance!” said Agnes. “But I suppose we couldn’t in a hotel.”

“We can dance up here after dinner,” said Jack. “Mother will play for us, I am sure; for see, there’s a piano here!”

Though an adopted son, Mrs. McGuire had asked Jack to call her “Mother,” and the boy had been only too glad to do so.

“Play for you? Of course I will,” said the lady herself, entering the sitting-room. “And now we will go down to dinner. Lisette will stay here in charge of everything.”

Jack sprang to open the door.

He held it open till the last of his party went through it, and then he closed it and followed them. Somehow he was again in place to push the elevator bell, and Mrs. McGuire looked at him with pride as she noticed his quiet quickness and graceful ways.

Dinner was a delightful experience. Betty was a little bewildered by the array of silver and glass, and Stub frankly inquired which fork to use first, but Jack seemed to know by intuition.

“I’d like to live in a place like this always,” said Stub, as he ate his ice-cream.

“So wouldn’t I,” said Jack. “A hotel is all very well for a few days, but it isn’t a home.”

“That’s so,” agreed Agnes; “I suppose we’d get tired of it if we had it all the time.”

“Well, it’s good enough for me,” returned Stub. “When I’m a man, I’m going to live in one. I don’t see many boys here, though,” he added, looking round.

“No,” said Mrs. McGuire, smiling; “most boys prefer a home.”

And then dinner was over, and they all strolled through the hotel corridor and bought some flowers at the flower-stand, and some illustrated papers at the news-stand, and then went up to their own apartment.

Mrs. McGuire played the piano for them, and they danced a little, and then, after some planning for the next day’s entertainment, they all went to rest.

The next day was clear and pleasant, and when breakfast was served in their own dining-room, all the party were ready and eagerly awaiting it.

“Then it is decided,” said Mrs. McGuire, “that we have our Christmas tree this evening?”

“Oh, yes,” said Betty; “Christmas eve is the time for a tree, and to-morrow, on Christmas day, we’ll have our feast, our real Christmas dinner. Don’t you think so, Agnes?”

“Yes, indeed. And then the tree can stay here, can’t it, all day to-morrow? I love to look at a Christmas tree.”

“So do I,” said Betty. “And as I never had one before, I’ll keep this one as long as I can.”

It was less than a year since Betty had inherited her fortune, and before that she had been a poor little waif, without money and without a home.

Her mother’s heart thrilled with gladness to think that Betty would have a tree this year, and she resolved to do everything in her power to make it a beautiful one.

Very soon after breakfast they started on a shopping expedition.

Two taxicabs were engaged, and the two girls, with Lisette, occupied one, while Mrs. McGuire and the boys rode in the other.

Such fun as they had shopping! They fairly tumbled out of one shop into another. The tree had been ordered from the hotel, but they bought ornaments and candles and festoons of tinsel rope, and Mrs. McGuire bought some other things secretly, as she wanted to have some surprises for the young people. Then everybody bought presents for everybody else. Betty found lovely things for the dear ones who had remained at Denniston, and for the faithful servants there, as well.

She bought presents for her young friends in Greenborough, too, and all these things they had expressed directly home. But the fun was in buying presents for each other. These, of course, must be kept very secret, and Betty would urge Jack in a whisper to take Agnes to another counter and keep her there, while Stub helped Betty choose the present for his sister.

And so with the whole four. Each must be safely removed from the scene of action while his or her gift was purchased.

Betty’s mother cautioned the young folks that all gifts be simple and inexpensive.

So Agnes bought for Betty a pretty little white fan that she might carry to evening parties, and Betty bought for Agnes a slender gold bangle.

The boys bought knives for each other, which caused the girls much amusement, for neither Jack nor Stub knew that each had bought a knife, and the girls knew that the knives were exactly alike. Of course Betty wished to give more valuable gifts to Jack and her mother, so, under the guidance of Mrs. McGuire, she bought a beautiful little gold watch and fob for Jack. It was a beauty, and Betty knew it would give the boy the keenest pleasure.

For her mother she wanted to get something very nice indeed, but she had no one with whom to consult. Jack and the Grahams were no better able than herself to advise on such a subject, and Lisette could not be expected to know much about it.

But, by a fortunate occurrence, the way was made easy. Betty and her mother had gone to a great jewelry shop to buy Jack’s watch, and, after the purchase was completed, they strolled about the shop looking at the beautiful things displayed in the cases.

Suddenly Betty spied a lady whom she recognized. It was Mrs. Sanderson, at whose house in New York Betty had first met Grandma Kinsey.

“Mother,” said Betty, speaking very quickly, “will you stay right here and not look around for a few minutes?”

“I can’t let you go away from me alone, Betty,” said her mother, smiling at the earnest little face.

“But, Mother, I’m only going to the very next counter, and there’s a lady that I know.”

“Very well; I trust you not to go farther than the next counter; and I’ll wait for you here.”

“Don’t turn round.”

“No, but don’t be too long.”

Betty hurried to Mrs. Sanderson, who was looking at jewels at the next counter.

“How do you do, Mrs. Sanderson?” she said, speaking politely, but very rapidly. “Do you remember me? I’m Betty McGuire, and I was at your house last year with Mrs. Van Court, and I found Mrs. Kinsey there, and now she lives with me.”

Mrs. Sanderson looked at the excited little girl, and at last she remembered her.

“Oh, yes,” she said; “the little Irish girl who came into a fortune.”

“Yes’m,” said Betty. “That’s me, ma’am. And since then I’ve found my mother, and she’s here with me. But I want to buy her a Christmas present unbeknownst to her, and I thought you’d be willing to help me a bit if I asked you.”

“What a strange child!” said Mrs. Sanderson, putting up her lorgnette to look at Betty again.

“Yes, I am, ma’am. But will you help me buy the present, and then I’ll introduce my mother; you’ll love her, ma’am, she’s that sweet!”

Always when Betty was embarrassed or excited she slipped back into her almost forgotten brogue. And perhaps it was that and the persuasive little voice that touched Mrs. Sanderson’s sympathies, for she said kindly:

“Why, certainly, my dear; I’ll help you with pleasure. What do you want to buy?”

“I want a small diamond brooch, please, and not too grand a one; my mother doesn’t like things too grand. But a plainish one that she could wear every day, and yet a good one at that.”

Mrs. Sanderson smiled, but she seemed to understand, and as the affable salesman showed them various styles, she selected one that seemed to fit accurately Betty’s requirements.

“This, I think, is lovely,” she said; “I’m sure your mother would like it.”

“I’m sure, too,” said Betty, “and it’s the very one I like best myself.”

The purchase was completed, and, with the little box in her hand, Betty took Mrs. Sanderson to the next counter to meet her mother. The ladies seemed too pleased to know each other, and Betty was very happy.

Then good-by greetings were exchanged and, as it was luncheon-hour, Betty’s mother marshaled her brood together.

“I think we won’t go back to the hotel for luncheon,” she said; “for it’s after one o’clock, and we still have some errands to do. So we’ll go over to the Waldorf and lunch there, which will give you hotel-loving children another glimpse of a New York Christmas crowd.”

This plan was carried out, and the young quartet watched with sparkling eyes the throngs of people on Christmas errands bent.

“Now to finish our errands, and then home,” said Mrs. McGuire, after luncheon was over.

But when they reached the hotel again, about mid-afternoon, Betty didn’t want to go in.

“Oh, Mother,” she pleaded, “the streets are so gay, and the people are all going along with bundles and holly wreaths, and it’s all so Christmas-evey, can’t we stay out longer?”

Her mother considered.