  “Mr. Humphreys,” said Miss Priscilla Flint, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am that my niece should have been guilty of this escapade; but I beg you to believe that we regret it sincerely, and that she shall be appropriately punished.” “Oh, don’t punish her!” said the young man, impetuously. “I’m very sure she had no other thought than a kind interest in her friend’s welfare.” “That makes no difference,” said Miss Priscilla; “she is old enough to know better, and she should have come to us for advice, and then this ridiculous piece of business would not have happened.” “And we should never have met Mr. Humphreys,” said Miss Dorinda, smiling at the pleasant-faced young man. “That would have been my misfortune,” he replied. “But truly, dear ladies, you take this affair too seriously. Your niece is apparently full of wild and erratic schemes; but she is a dear little girl, and most true-hearted, and loyal to her friend. How old is she?” “She is fourteen,” said Miss Flint, decidedly, “but she insists that she is only twelve. It is very strange,” she went on musingly; “but her whole history is strange. She is the daughter of my dead sister, but in no way does she resemble her, nor is she at all like her father. Although we knew him but slightly, he was a firm, well-balanced character, while Lavinia is wilful, mischievous and erratic.” “But she is a clever child,” put in Miss Dorinda, “and most loving and affectionate.” “She seems to be,” said Mr. Humphreys. “And I beg, dear ladies, that you will dismiss entirely from your mind this incident of her letter to Governor Hyde; for you may rest assured that no one else shall ever hear of it; and personally, I am very glad that it has given me the pleasure of knowing some of my mother’s friends.” “I, too, am glad of that part of it,” said Miss Priscilla Flint. “And we shall be most happy to have you dine with us and remain overnight.” Chester Humphreys gladly accepted the invitation, privately wondering if Ladybird were allowed to sit up to dinner. A few moments later, light footsteps crossed the veranda, and a flushed and smiling young woman entered the room quickly. “How do you do, Miss Dorinda?” she said. “How do you do, Miss Flint? Is Ladybird ill?” “No,” said Miss Priscilla, rising, and looking severe. “What nonsense has that child been up to now? But first, Stella, may I present Mr. Humphreys? Miss Russell, Mr. Chester Humphreys.” Ladybird’s description of her friend had been inadequate. Chester Humphreys, though a man of no little experience, felt sure he had never before seen such a beautiful girl. Tall and graceful, with soft, dark hair and eyes, Stella had, moreover, a wonderful charm of her own, and her perfect features were merely a setting for an exquisite and individual beauty which young Humphreys had never seen equaled. “Ladybird sent for me,” said Stella; “she sent a note by Jackson saying she was not well, and nothing would help her but for me to come over to dinner. So I came.” “Where did she see Jackson?” said Miss Priscilla. “That’s the funny part of it,” said Stella. “He was passing the house, and she called to him from her window; so I hurried over at once. May I see her?” “She is not ill at all,” said Miss Priscilla. “Oh, yes I am, aunty,” cried a roguish voice, and Ladybird flew into the room. She was dressed in her new red frock, her eyes were starry and dancing, and Cloppy was perched on her shoulder. He wore a red neck-ribbon, and a festive air generally. “I’m awful miserable, aunty,” Ladybird went on: “I have a misery in my foot; but I’m so glad to see Stella that it may cure it. She may stay to dinner, mayn’t she, aunty?” Taken thus by storm, Miss Flint could only say yes. So Stella stayed. Such a merry dinner as it was! Ladybird was in her element. She made such droll remarks, and her gaiety was so infectious, that Chester Humphreys appeared quite at his best; and his best was very good indeed. Stella looked radiant, and met Mr. Humphreys’s banter with a pretty, graceful wit of her own. The Flint ladies, though a little bewildered, were affected by the general joyousness of the atmosphere, and beamed most amiably. After dinner they all sat on the veranda. “Stella might sing for us,” suggested Ladybird, in an insinuating tone. “I might,” said Stella, calmly, “if I thought any one would listen to me; but I fear you would all run away, except Ladybird; she, I believe, really enjoys my songs.” “I can sing a little, too,” said Mr. Humphreys; “we might warble together.” “No,” said Stella, “I can’t sing, really; but if I had my banjo here, I could play accompaniments for you to sing, Mr. Humphreys.” “Your banjo is here,” said Ladybird; “you left it here day before yesterday.” “Did I?” said Stella. “Well, I shall be glad to pick at it, if Mr. Humphreys will sing.” “After dinner they all sat on the veranda” Mr. Humphreys was most willing to sing, so Ladybird brought the banjo, and Stella began to play. The girl had a real talent for music, and not only played well, but sang with a beautiful, though untrained voice. Together they sang many of the popular airs of the day; and then, at the request of the older ladies, they sang old-time songs, catches, and glees. Ladybird could sing these too, and though her voice was shrill and light, it rang clear and true. Stella, in her white gown, looked very fair and sweet as she sat in a veranda rocker swaying to and fro to the time of her banjo; and when, promptly at ten o’clock, Miss Flint announced that she must send her home, Chester Humphreys half hoped that he might be allowed to escort her. But Miss Priscilla ordered that Martha should take charge of the young lady, and Humphreys disappointedly refrained from offering his services. “Your Stella is very beautiful,” he said to Ladybird after Miss Russell had gone. “Yes,” said Ladybird, calmly; “I told you so.” “And she looks amiable as well.” “She is,” said Ladybird, earnestly; “she is the amiablest girl on the face of the great round world. She can’t refuse anybody anything. That’s why it’s so hard for her to say she won’t marry Charley Hayes. But now she won’t have to, so it’s all right.” “Lavinia,” said Miss Priscilla Flint, with her sternest and most decided air, “once for all, now, you are to stop that wicked nonsense. Unless you do, I shall lock you in your room and keep you there until you are ready to obey me.” “Goodness gracious me!” said Ladybird, laughing, “whatever could I do—staying in my room so long? I do so like to play out of doors. Now it seems to me that you and Aunt Dorinda ought to be locked in your rooms until this matter is all settled, for you certainly do interfere with my plans.” “Go to bed at once, Lavinia,” said Miss Priscilla, in cold, level tones; “at once, I say! Not another word!” “Yes, aunty, certainly,” said Ladybird, making no move to go, however. “Miss Flint,” said Humphreys, “as I am, in a way, a part of this situation, couldn’t I be permitted to discuss it with little Miss Lovell?” “I should be very glad, Mr. Humphreys,” said Miss Flint, “if you could say anything to my niece that would cause her to behave like a rational human being.” “Then, child,” said Chester Humphreys, turning to Ladybird, “I will ask you a few straightforward questions.” “Do,” said Ladybird, looking at him with an air of such intense interest that the young man felt a little discomfited. “First,” he said, “do you realize that a child of twelve—” “Fourteen,” corrected Miss Priscilla. “Very well—that a child of fourteen has no right to meddle with the love-affairs of a young lady of twenty-one?” “I realize,” said Ladybird, putting on her wise-owl expression, and shaking her thin brown forefinger at Chester Humphreys—“I realize that a child of twelve—or fourteen—has a right to do anything to help a friend, unless it’s against the law and she’ll get arrested.” “But you must know,” went on young Humphreys, warming to his task, “that if Miss Russell knew what you had done, she would not be your friend any longer.” “Wouldn’t she!” exclaimed Ladybird. “Wouldn’t she! That’s all you know about Stella! She would be my friend though the heavens fall: because she understands friends, she does, and she would know that whatever I did, I did single to her glory! But never mind about me now: the thing is, Mr. Humphreys, will you marry Stella, and so save her from the awful jaws of Charley Hayes? Will you?” Miss Priscilla Flint, almost choking with wrath and indignation, undertook to speak, but Chester Humphreys stopped her. “Wait, Miss Flint,” he said; “please let me answer for myself.” “Will you?” said Ladybird. “Ladybird,” he said, “you are indeed a true, loyal, and warm-hearted friend; and you are sinning through ignorance, and not through any wrong intent.” “Will you?” said Ladybird. “When you are older you will learn that people do not marry, or allow themselves to be given in marriage, at the whim of a wayward child. But as you cannot seem to grasp that fact now, you must accept the wisdom of your elders, and drop at once and forever this well-meant but impossible plan of yours.” “Will you?” said Ladybird. She had not seemed to hear anything Mr. Humphreys had said, but sat with her sharp elbows on her knees, and her chin in her little brown hands, while her great dark eyes looked at him wistfully, pleadingly, and insistently. “Ladybird,” said Aunt Dorinda’s gentle voice, “you don’t seem to comprehend what Mr. Humphreys has been saying, and perhaps it is because you are not capable of understanding it; but I want to say this to you: you know that your aunts, who love you very dearly, would not advise you except for your own good and the good of your friend. And so, dearie, because we love you, and because you love us, won’t you give up this foolishness and do as we tell you?” “Aunt Dorinda,” said Ladybird, “you and Aunt Priscilla do love me, and I love you both; but you see you’ve never been married, either of you, and so you don’t know anything about it; but if you would do a little realizing yourself, and just think of the difference whether my sweet, beautiful, angel Stella marries that horrid, awkward, ignorant Charley Hayes, or this handsome, refined, and nobly educated Mr. Humphreys!” Ladybird waved her hands dramatically, and with a triumphant air of having incontrovertibly proved her case, she continued: “And so we’ll consider that matter settled. And now the only thing to find out is if Mr. Humphreys will marry Stella. Will you?” Impressed by the futility of further argument of any sort, Chester Humphreys sat looking at Ladybird in a helpless sort of way. “You see,” Ladybird went on, and now her voice was soft and gentle, and the expression on her elfish face very sweet and tender—“you see she is so good and lovely you couldn’t find anybody better or more beautiful; and she loves to have fun; and she can make gorgeous cake; and she’s awful fond of me and Cloppy: and altogether she’s the best one in the world for you to marry. Will you?” “I am not sure but I shall,” said Chester Humphreys. |
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