The Staying Guest. Wells Carolyn

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СКАЧАТЬ my aunts, you know, so I’ve come to live with you. Mr. Bond says my mother used to be your sister,” she went on in an explanatory tone; “but she’s dead too: she died long ago, so I’m all alone, except Cloppy.”

      In the hollow of her little bent arm was what seemed to be a gray muff with a blue bow on it, but as she shook it out and held it up it proved to be a dog.

      “This is Cloppy,” she said; “he’s my dog, and he’s such a dear, though he’s a lot of trouble. Do you like dogs?”

      Now Miss Priscilla Flint did not like dogs, but that was a matter of small importance compared with the dire calamity which threatened her quiet household. Her very cap-bows shook with the vehement decision of her tone as she answered:

      “No, I do not like dogs, and still less do I like visitors. I cannot turn you from my door in the middle of the night, but nevertheless you must go away as soon as I can arrange it, for you cannot live here.”

      Then Ladybird laughed again – such a gay, merry, mirthsome laugh.

      “Why, aunty,” she said, “I’m not company; I’m one of the family. And I’m not visiting you; I’ve come to live here forever and ever. This is my home, and I haven’t any other. And you’ll learn to love Cloppy, too, he’s so soft and cuddly. Just hold him once.”

      She put the blinking Skye terrier into Miss Priscilla’s arms, which promptly unfolded and let the dog drop to the floor.

      Then Ladybird laughed again.

      “Oh, you funny aunty,” she cried, and turning to Miss Dorinda said brightly, “Don’t you like dogs, either?”

      “Not very much,” said Miss Dorinda, looking at her new-found relative with a sort of fascination.

      “Well, never mind,” said Ladybird, cheerfully, as she took Cloppy up and threw him over her arm like a folded shawl, “I won’t let him bother you any. And now shall we go to bed?”

      This suggestion, though timely, gave Miss Priscilla another shock. No preparations had been made for such hospitality, and at Primrose Hall nothing was ever done without preparation.

      “Come on, then,” said the guest, interpreting the silence to mean consent; and taking the candle that Martha had set down, she darted up the wide, old-fashioned staircase. At the first turn she paused.

      “Where is my room, aunty?” she inquired, looking back at her hostess.

      As she stood there on the great square landing, with one foot on the stair above, and the candle held high above her head, she looked so white and eerie, so like a small wraith, that Miss Priscilla could scarcely believe she was real, and indulged in a vague hope that the vision would disappear as suddenly as it had come.

      But Martha felt that it was her turn now, and she said:

      “Shall I make up the spare-chamber bed, ma’am?”

      “Yes,” said Miss Priscilla, catching gladly at a temporary solution of the problem; “take her there, and put her to bed. I’ll make no plans until morning.” And shutting her teeth together with a snap, Miss Priscilla went to her room and was seen no more that night.

      Miss Dorinda did likewise, and Martha said:

      “Now, if you’ll come with me, little miss, I’ll try to make you comfortable.”

      Ladybird, still holding her dog, followed Martha to the great spare bed-chamber.

      “Is this my room?” she said wonderingly, looking at the massive mahogany furniture and old-fashioned decorations.

      “It is for to-night, miss, whatever happens to-morrow.”

      “Oh, I like it,” said the child, contentedly; “only, it seems so big. But it’s very pleasant, and when my things come, I can stack them all away in these big bureaus and chests of drawers. But what a funny bed! It’s like a queen’s bed. I’ll play I’m a queen, and you be my lady in waiting, will you, Martha?”

      “Yes, miss,” said the good-natured Martha, smiling at the strange little girl, who had already won her heart. “And where’s your bag, miss, with your night-clothes?”

      “Why, do you know, I forgot it and left it on the train. I came alone from Boston, and when the man said ‘All out for Plainville,’ I just jumped out and forgot everything. But you can lend me a nightie, can’t you? and to-morrow I think my boxes will come.”

      So Martha provided her new charge from her own wardrobe; and the child laughed gleefully when, in a night-dress far too long for her, and a ruffled night-cap tied under her chin, she found herself ready to climb into the four-poster bed.

      There was a wide dimity ruffle all around the top, and a dimity valance below, and long dimity curtains all around. These were looped back at one side with huge rosettes, and with Martha’s assistance the little girl stepped on a chair, and so up on the high feather bed. As she sank down into it, and it nearly closed over her, she laughed merrily.

      “It is like drowning in the sea,” she said; “the billows are high on both sides of me. Where’s Cloppy, Martha?”

      “Here he is, miss. Shall I put him in the cellar?”

      “Cellar? No, indeed; put him at the foot of the bed, please; and I hope he won’t smother. Oh, how good these sheets smell! Why do they?”

      “That’s lavender, miss; we always keep it between the fresh linen.”

      “Well, it’s just lovely. Good night, Martha.”

      “Good night, miss,” and Martha took the candle and went away, and Ladybird was asleep in ten seconds.

      CHAPTER IV

      A FEW QUESTIONS

      The next morning Ladybird woke early, with a strange feeling of suffocation. The day was warm, and the dimity curtains, the feather bed, and the night-cap all combined to stifle a little girl who was fond of fresh air.

      She hopped out of bed and ran to the window, the extra length of Martha’s long night-dress tripping her feet and flapping against her hands.

      Throwing open the blinds, she saw that the window opened on a veranda roof, and swinging herself over the sill, she stood delightedly gazing at the spring beauty of Primrose Farm.

      She was soon joined by Cloppy, who had scrambled out of the feather nest and followed in his young mistress’s steps.

      “Hello, Cloppy-Dog,” she cried as she picked him up, “how do you like our new home? I think it is lovely. Let’s look in at these windows.”

      There were several along the veranda, each with closed blinds. Ladybird tried them all, but could not open any until she reached the last one. There the blinds flew open at her touch and disclosed an open window with a pair of the ever-recurring dimity curtains tied back with blue ribbons.

      Ladybird perched herself on the window-sill and surveyed the room.

      Opposite the window was a curtained bed like the one she had slept in, and as she looked, a night-capped face appeared at the opening and stared at the intruder.

      Except that the face between СКАЧАТЬ