Letty and the Twins Part 9

But everything had been so different. The winter after her mother's death had been a time of desolation to Letty.

Letty sat out on the front steps of the boarding-house where she lived with Mrs. Drake whenever the weather permitted, or walked drearily about the Square. She made no friends and had no pleasure except her Sunday attendance at church, where the soft music and wonderful stained gla.s.s windows never failed to soothe and comfort her. These stained gla.s.s windows represented the only paintings she had ever seen. But it was the music that comforted her most. She learned some of the hymns after a while and ventured to join sometimes in a voice that had a surprising quality in its untrained cadences.

The summer was easier to bear as the traveling about from place to place brought diversion; and she loved her work with the ponies. But long before the summer was over she had grown tired of the roving life and was glad to be back in winter quarters again.

She was happier that second winter, for she had grown more resigned to the loss of her mother and the dreadful, aching desire for her mercifully had lessened. But the restless, moving life of the circus grew more and more distasteful and after her brother's death-by a frightful accident-she felt that she could endure the life no longer.

But the poor child had no other home, no other friends, and stayed on with the Drakes for want of another home. Her little friend, Emma Haines, lived over in a small town in New Jersey, but her family were too poor to take in and care for another child. The rich Miss Reese who, together with her little cousin, Clara Markham, had been so kind to Letty one winter, had pa.s.sed out of her life completely, and even Mrs.

Goldberg, with the amusing parrot, had not been heard from since her removal to California.

So Letty lived on, a sad, dull, monotonous life. She attended school in the winters but was never happy there, as she was invariably behind her cla.s.ses and was too shy and sad to try to make friends among the other scholars. Another baby came to Mrs. Drake, which proved a source of much comfort to Letty. He was a big, jolly, l.u.s.ty baby-the same she had been holding in her arms when she had first caught sight of the twins at the railway junction. And her happiest, or rather her least sad hours were those she spent at church and in nursing Mrs. Drake's baby.

And now, what did the future hold for her? Mr. Drake had met with losses and failure in his business and the circus was broken up. What was to become of her? Small wonder that Letty wept despairingly as she lay awake in her little canvas bedroom.

But Jane and Christopher were all gay excitement and happy antic.i.p.ation.

"I am sure Mrs. Hartwell-Jones means to buy the ponies," Jane confided to Christopher, "and I'm so glad, because, you see, sometimes she may take us for rides."

"And let me drive," added Christopher.

And Mrs. Hartwell-Jones really did mean to buy the ponies. She asked grandfather to attend to the matter for her when he returned to the circus grounds to see about his own business; for grandfather had about decided to buy one or two of Mr. Drake's horses for work on the farm.

But Mr. Baker was too businesslike to buy without being sure of the sort of horse he was getting, and arranged with Joshua to have Mr. Drake drive or ride out such horses as grandfather thought of getting, together with the Shetland ponies, to Sunnycrest, for Joshua's inspection and judgment.

The twins were in a whirl to get started and gave grandfather no peace until the phaeton-a low, wide-seated vehicle with plenty of room for three on the seat when two of them were only nine-was brought round.

There was an instant scramble for the outside place and a quarrel threatened; but grandfather settled the whole matter by saying quietly:

"Ladies first, Kit, my boy. Janey shall have the outside place for the first half of the way."

They started off in high spirits, Jane quiet and absorbed, bending enough to watch the revolving wheel crunch the bits of dust and dry clay, lost in her own happy thoughts or listening to Christopher's chatter and storing up bits of knowledge. Christopher's tongue was not quiet a moment and he asked question after question.

It had always been like that with the twins from the time they had learned to talk. Jane seldom asked questions, but Christopher must know the meaning of everything that came to his notice. Not that Jane was stupid because she did not ask questions. She generally listened to Christopher's continual "why" and learned from the answers given to him.

And very often she would speak out unexpectedly some piece of information that surprised every one. Indeed, an uncle of the twins had once said:

"Kit talks the most, but Jane says the most."

"See that squirrel running across the road?" said grandfather. "Did you see him, Janey? A pretty red one."

"I could have shot him, if I'd had a gun," boasted Christopher.

"Oh, Kit, that would have been mean! He wasn't doing any one any harm."

"How do you know he wasn't? Perhaps he was doing something hateful to some other animal. Animals do that, you know; they're such beasts."

"Well, anyway, you couldn't have shot it; squirrels run so fast,"

replied Jane with satisfaction.

"I could have if I'd had any practice. When I get my gun I shall practice on the rabbits. They're no good, anyhow."

"They are some good. They're sweet, dear, gentle things and you just shan't hurt them."

"They haven't got as much sense as squirrels and they're lots greedier."

Then followed a discussion between the children concerning the habits of squirrels, rabbits and other creatures of the forest, in which each displayed a goodly stock of knowledge of natural history. Grandfather chuckled proudly as he listened, but made no comment.

"Well, well, well," he remarked, when the subject of red squirrels had been exhausted and he thought he saw another "why" trembling on the tip of Christopher's tongue, "here we are, half-way to town and n.o.body has yet offered to relieve me of the hard task of driving."

There was instant strife for possession of the reins.

"Tut, tut, play fair. Kit, my boy, remember your manners. Ladies first."

And grandfather handed the reins to triumphant Jane.

"Aw, she's not a lady, she's only a girl," growled Christopher in chagrin. "Anyhow, it's my turn to sit on the outside. I'm sure it is, and I'm going to have my turn. Move over, Jane, you needn't think you can have everything. She needn't be a pig, just because she's a lady,"

he added to his grandfather, who had laid a restraining hand upon his sleeve. "Move over, you!"

"Grandfather didn't say to. Don't push so, you rude boy. Ow! You'll make me drop the lines."

"Pig!"

"Rude-y!"

"Prude-y!"

"Grandfather, Kit--"

"Telltale!"

"I don't care. You're a rude, horrid boy," said Jane, beginning to cry.

"And you are a stingy, tattling cry-baby. I just wish--"

"Children!" cried grandfather sternly. "I'm astonished! Why, do you realize what you are saying to each other? Jane, give me those reins.

Christopher, stay quiet. I should not allow you to sit on the outside now, for any consideration."

The children succ.u.mbed meekly. When his grandfather called him "Christopher" the boy felt doubly crushed. Jane's tender little heart at once began to ache. She felt that it had all been her fault. It was Christopher's turn to sit on the outside and there was no real reason why she should have been given the privilege of driving first. She would have liked to tell Christopher that she was sorry, to whisper to him to make up. But she glanced at his face and saw that it would do no good to speak for the present. Christopher was in the sulks and she knew that if she apologized now he would only say "shucks" and shove her. Yet, if she waited until he was amiable again, he probably would have forgotten all about it and call her silly.

But she herself soon forgot the quarrel in the excitement of arriving at the field again. Letty was not in sight and grandfather was engaged with Mr. Drake, so the children went on a tour of investigation. They visited the menagerie and stared at the blinking, sleepy looking animals for a time and then went in search of the ponies, which they found stabled in a small tent placarded as containing the marvelous fat lady and thinnest living skeleton.

As they stood feeding gra.s.s to the ponies and chattering, Letty joined them. She came up so softly over the thick turf that they did not know she was there until she spoke.

"Do you think your grandmother's friend will take the ponies?" she asked slowly.

The twins turned, and stared. Letty's eyes were swollen and red with weeping and her lip trembled as she spoke of the sale of Punch and Judy.

"I guess you hate to give 'em up," observed Christopher sympathetically.

"Is that why you've been crying so, Letty?" asked Jane.

"Not altogether, though I shall miss the ponies. But I have to go away, and I haven't anywhere to go."