Letty and the Twins Part 2

CHAPTER II

SUNNYCREST

At Hammersmith a big, old-fas.h.i.+oned carryall stood beside the station platform and behind it a light spring wagon, the two drivers standing side by side on the platform, watching the descending pa.s.sengers anxiously. The older man was Joshua Adams, the head man on grandfather's farm. Grandmother always called him Joshua, but to every one else he was Josh. His companion, Jo Perkins, a young stable boy familiarly known as "Perk," was new on the place since the twins' last visit, and they did not know him. They eyed him curiously as they shook hands heartily with Joshua, who was an old and long-tried friend.

"My, my, you've growed sence I see ye," exclaimed Joshua, standing the children off and looking at them in mock amazement. "Most big enough to be giants in a side-show."

"Oh, shucks," said Christopher, squirming with embarra.s.sment. "Has Juno got any new pups?"

"Well, you have growed, 'pon my word. Now I leave it to Miss Jane if you haven't. Hain't you, Miss Jane? And you're both of you dressed different now, so 't I can tell ye apart," he added teasingly.

Of course Joshua had seen the children many times since the day Christopher had been promoted to trousers, but he never lost a chance of reminding the boy that he had pa.s.sed through a petticoat period.

Perk felt a little bit out of this intimate party. He stood awkwardly in the background, fingering his hat and winking gravely at Christopher whenever he caught his eye. Grandfather bustled up presently, followed by the station agent wheeling the trunks on a truck, which Perk proceeded to pile on the wagon. Joshua untied the team and mounted to the front seat of the big carriage.

"Where's Nelly Gray?" asked Jane, missing the gray mare with the white star on her forehead.

"Why, Nelly, she's out to pastur' for a while. Got a nail in her foot."

"Oh, poor horsey! How it must have hurt! Did you get it out?"

"Why of course, greeney," interposed Christopher knowingly, "else the horse would have died, wouldn't it, Josh?"

Jane climbed into the carriage and sat down opposite her grandparents, but Christopher hung back.

"I want to go on the wagon. Mayn't I, please?"

"Oh, yes," consented grandfather good-naturedly, "if you promise to sit still and not ask to drive."

Christopher avoided Jane's reproachful look and capered off joyfully.

Jane felt hurt at being deserted by her twin so soon, but she knew that Christopher was anxious to make Perk's acquaintance.

"I s'pose boys can't help likin' other boys a little," she reflected philosophically, and hugged her doll comfortably.

In spite of her nine years and her brother's teasing, Jane persisted in playing with dolls and had a large, well-beloved family.

"Say, I'm going to ride home with you," announced Christopher, climbing up on the high wagon seat. "Shall I hold the horse for you while you strap on the trunks?"

"He's. .h.i.tched," drawled Perk with a twinkle in his eye. "But I guess 'twon't hurt if you want to hold the lines."

"Oh, I didn't notice that he was tied," said Christopher, a bit crestfallen, and feeling his youth. "I'd like to drive," he added with reviving spirit as Perk strapped on the last trunk and mounted to his seat (swinging up over the wheel after the horse had started, to Christopher's keen envy), "but grandfather said I mustn't ask. But I could. A friend of my father's has an automobile and he let me steer it one day, oh, a long way."

Perk was distinctly impressed by this statement and dropped some of the patronage from his manner. Perk had never even seen an automobile.

As they drove down the length of the village street, Christopher was on the lookout for changes. It was two years since he had visited in Hammersmith, which left plenty of time for improvements. Each new building or alteration had to be remarked upon to Perk, for Christopher's tongue would never stay quiet. Jane declared once that it wagged in his sleep.

"I see somebody else has got the blacksmith's forge. Mr. Parsons used to run it."

"Yes, but Mr. Parsons is too tony now to shoe horses. He makes wagons an' keeps summer boarders."

"h.e.l.lo, Jones has got a partner. My, but they used to have good sarsaparilla there," exclaimed Christopher, smacking his lips.

"They do still," answered Perk, smacking his.

"I'll treat you some time. I'm to have fifteen cents a week pocket money all summer, an' so's Jane. Hi, there's a new store. Say, it's a dandy."

"It's a newspaper office up-stairs. Downstairs they have a store where nothin' costs more'n ten cents; and lots of things cost only five. Ain't that a queer sort of store?"

"Not so queer as I've seen. Why, they've got a store in the city where everything costs ninety-nine cents. My mother'd never let me buy there, but they had mighty pretty things in the windows. Painted plates and things. Lots of people go there because they think it's so much cheaper than a dollar. Aren't some people silly?"

They had turned out of the village by this time into the country road which led to Sunnycrest.

"Do you play marbles?" asked Christopher, patting a bag of beloved alleys in his trousers pocket.

"Naw-that's a kid's game," said Perk contemptuously. He was feeling a trifle sore over the fact that this boy, so much younger than he, had ridden in an automobile and had seen a ninety-nine-cent store.

Christopher withdrew his hand suddenly from his pocket.

"Yes, isn't it?" he agreed quickly. Then, lest Perk should have heard the rattle of the marbles he said carelessly: "I play with Jane sometimes-to amuse her. And there's a boy lives in our street that coaxes me to have a game with him once in a while. I do it to please him 'cause he's lame, but it never seems fair to play for keeps with him.

He's only eight and a half."

Christopher hauled the bag of marbles out of his pocket and displayed them indifferently, as if they were spoils. But all the time his heart thumped guiltily at the white lie he was acting, for up to the present moment he had loved the game of marbles and had looked upon it as a manly sport.

"Gee, did you win all them? They're beauties," exclaimed Perk in admiration, transferring the reins to one hand in order to examine the different marbles.

"No, not exactly all," admitted Christopher, "some I had. And some I traded," he added, thrusting the bag back into his pocket.

"Hum. Want to swap knives?"

Christopher's heart sank. His father had presented him with a very wonderful, five-bladed knife as a farewell gift. Christopher had not even whittled with it yet. The idea of parting with it hurt. He drew it from his pocket with mingled pride and concern. He did not want to appear unmanly, but he was quite sure that Perk could have nothing half so good to trade.

But Perk saw the value of the knife and was square enough to refuse to take any advantages. He admired it even more extravagantly than he had done the marbles.

"Of course you don't want to swap something that was a present," he said. "'Twouldn't be treating your daddy right."

"You can borrow it whenever you want," replied Christopher gratefully.

Presently Perk called Christopher's attention to several flaming posters that decorated the rail fences on either side of the road.

"There's a circus comin' to town next week," he said. "Guess it's going to be a pretty good show."

"Oh, what bully fun!" cried Christopher. "We know a little circus girl,"

and he told the story of Letty and the bear. Together they studied the bills as they pa.s.sed, comparing notes as to their opinion of the different feats advertised and choosing which side-shows they would like best to see.

This amiable conversation occupied them all the rest of the drive.