THE MERRIWEATHER MANOR

Merriweather Manor dominated the hill, it occupied the very highest point of the estate and from its walls the ground sloped away, at one side, straight down to the high bank above the river. Century-old elms overshadowed the house and half hid the fine lines of the famous Colonial structure.

The Manor had been built by Lord Cecil Merriweather before the Revolution and had been kept up without being remodelled. It almost seemed as if its old timbers had retained the gay atmosphere that Lord Cecil and his lady had bequeathed it.

The front of the house stood out boldly with its great pillars. Along the side, double verandas ran the length of the house. These were the delight of Bet, for they had been her playground since babyhood.

The interior was no less attractive. Colonel Baxter was a collector of Colonial antiques and knick-knacks and the house was furnished with genuine old furniture that delighted his heart and kept the spirit of Colonial times in the mansion.

If Bet had been given her way she might have chosen for her own suite of rooms, something more modern, but even she had never dared to mention such a thing to the Colonel.

But if Colonel Baxter leaned toward the old fashions in his furnishing of a home, his methods in training a daughter were modern to an extreme. Auntie Gibbs declared it was without “rhyme or reason.” “Letting a girl do as she pleases isn’t bringing up at all. That child should have a strong hand to guide her. Every child should. And me, who could do it, ain’t allowed no say-so.”

“Well, Bet’s all right, isn’t she?” replied Uncle Nat to his wife’s complaints. “She’s a wise little thing and never goes far wrong.” Uncle Nat had been gardener on the estate before Bet was born. He and his wife had known and loved the young wife of Colonel Baxter, and after her death had taken charge of the household, caring for and loving the motherless little girl as if she were their own.

“You’re always taking her part,” exclaimed Auntie Gibbs. “It isn’t his training that makes Bet do the right thing. It’s just because she’s so much like her father. As I’ve told him lots of times, with any other girl it would be all wrong.”

“So as it doesn’t change Bet, I have nothing to say.” The old man rubbed his hands together over the kitchen stove. Although autumn had hardly begun, there was a hint of chill in the air.

“Now, what are you doing, Nat Gibbs? Making a fire at this time of year! You aren’t cold, are you? Lots of time to shiver and shake over a fire when the first snow comes.”

“I’m just burning a few papers and trash to get them out of the way,” said Uncle Nat quietly, with an elaborate wink at the ceiling.

Auntie Gibbs was a manager by nature, and to rule over a house and yet not have the final word in everything was very trying to her soul. She began to scold again:

“And now she’s brought a new girl home with her today. And heaven only knows who or what she is!”

“She looks all right,” said Nat.

“Looks are very deceiving, as you ought to know at your time of life. Bet says she comes from Arizona, one of them half-civilized places like they have in the movies. She doesn’t like houses and yards and towns. Who ever heard of such a thing? Bet found her crying because she didn’t have room enough to breathe. Mark my words, she’s not very bright. Something very queer about a girl who thinks like that. ’Tisn’t natural. I really shouldn’t allow her to stay and associate with Bet.”

“We’ll leave that to Colonel Baxter, he’ll know what to do.”

“Him? He’ll shake hands with that girl as if she were the Queen of Sheba or that Mary Antynetty he talks about. And after that she can have the run of the house.”

“That’s so, that’s so!” agreed Nat Gibbs from long habit of agreeing with his wife. But while Auntie Gibbs stormed, and at times, raged over the way the Colonel was training his daughter, she never did try to take matters into her own hands, as she often threatened to do.

“’Tain’t his system that’s working, let me tell you. It just happens.”

Then after having had her say, the old woman dropped the subject to bustle about her kitchen and prepare a special supper for Bet and her chums, a thing she loved to do.

When Kit was led into the great entrance hall, she could only stare in amazement. It was as grand as she had imagined the palace of a king might be. The stained-glass windows that usually sent shafts of colored light across the floor, now gave a somber effect as of a dimly-lighted cathedral. A broad, winding stairway led to the floor above.

Kit stood in the center of the hall transfixed by what she saw. It was not the statue of Youth that held her attention. From a golden frame on the wall a face smiled down upon her and it was hard for the girl to believe that it was only a portrait. A fleeting smile seemed to play about the mouth, the delicately curved lips almost quivered and the brown eyes sparkled with joy.

Kit’s hands instinctively went out toward the beautiful woman. She stood there smiling up at the portrait, and forgot the girls as they chattered about her.

Bet, who had been watching her closely, ran impulsively to her and threw both arms around the girl’s neck.

“Oh you dear, darling thing! I knew you would! You love her already just the same as Shirley and Joy and I do.”

“Who is she?” Kit’s voice was hardly more than a whisper, she acted as if she had suddenly been brought back to earth after a flight in the clouds.

“It’s our Lady of the Manor, Lady Betty Merriweather!”

“O oh!” gasped Kit, without taking her eyes from the smiling eyes in the picture.

“Come along upstairs, Kit,” called Joy as she took the steps two at a time. But the stranger felt that she was on sacred ground and could not have romped as Joy did. She lingered, looking up into the beautiful face.

“I feel just as if she wanted to say something to me,” Kit said, as she reluctantly followed Bet.

“I think she does, probably. I know she tells me things sometimes,” replied Bet seriously. “I love to lie on that divan in the hall and watch her. And she tells me all about the good times they used to have in these very rooms.” Bet had dreamed so often beneath the vivacious, smiling face that she had come to believe that Lady Betty really did talk to her.

“It almost seems wicked to live in these rooms after her,” murmured Kit, as the two girls went up the stairs slowly, their arms around each others’ waists.

“I used to think that, too, until she laughed at me and said, ’Don’t be silly, Bet.’”

Shirley and Joy’s laughter floated down the stairway. “She really believes all that, Kit. She thinks that Lady Betty comes alive and talks to her.”

“Well, I used to think that when I was a little, little girl,” laughed Bet.

“And do you remember the day you told me she had called you Betty, and you didn’t know whether to be angry or not?” asked Joy.

Bet turned to Kit. “You see I don’t like to be called Betty. That name doesn’t suit me at all. It’s a lovely name for her, but for me it’s ridiculous.”

“And you’d better remember that, Kit Patten, for she gets angry if anyone calls her that,” said the quiet Shirley.

“There’s one girl who does it, and she’s no friend of Bet’s,” laughed Joy.

“Oh, that Edith Whalen! She’s always horrid, I wish she wouldn’t call me anything. I get angry so angry that I ”

“Ssh! I’ll tell you what she does,” whispered Joy. “She scratches!”

“I really don’t, but I’d like to.”

When the new friend was introduced to Auntie Gibbs she made such a good impression that the old lady’s heart opened at once and took her in. But she wouldn’t have told Uncle Nat or Bet that for the world.

“Can’t we help?” asked Kit.

Bet was about to object but the old woman spoke up quickly. “Of course you can all help. Bet, you and your new friend set the table. And I’ll find something for Shirley and Joy to do.” Auntie Gibbs was never so happy as she was at times when she had several people to keep busy.

Kit was afraid to touch the exquisite glassware and silver and beautiful dishes that Bet handled with unconcern.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll break them, Bet?” asked the girl.

“I used to be terribly afraid, but now I am used to them and I’m very careful. I just keep my mind on them until I get them on the table. Dad doesn’t like to have anything broken, for all this table stuff is very old.”

“Aren’t the lights beautiful?” exclaimed Kit gazing up at the old candelabra.

“These lights are the pride of Dad’s heart. I have never seen a more beautiful specimen.”

“Are they very old?” asked Kit.

“As old as this house and then some, I guess. You see they used to have candles in them for lighting and Dad had electric lights made to look like the candles. I love them. Look at the ones on the walls. Those are old sconces. They match the chandelier.”

Kit looked at the wall brackets as Bet switched on the lights.

“Oh, Bet, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. See how that little light is reflected in the mirror behind it.”

Bet suddenly rushed to the door. “Oh, Auntie Gibbs,” she called. “Has Dad telephoned today?”

“No, not a word.”

“Good! That means he’ll come home to dinner. I just can’t wait another week to have him see Kit.”

“And I was mean enough to wish that he would be detained in the city. My dress looks so badly, I don’t like to meet anyone.”

“Now never you mind, Kit, my Dad wouldn’t care at all,” asserted Bet.

“Isn’t there a dress of yours she can wear?” asked Auntie Gibbs.

“No, we’ve tried everything, she’s about an inch broader than I am, and she can’t get into anything except my bathrobe. Her own dress will look better than that, especially as Dad doesn’t like to see girls sitting around in bath robes.”

“Oh that Dad of yours! If he had his way, women would always be dressed up in those crazy Colonial things he has.”

“That’s a good idea! Kit, we’re going to give you a gown from a hundred years ago and Dad will think you’re marvelous.” Bet ran to a large closet under the stairs and from an old chest brought out an armful of dresses of antique pattern. “Come on, girls, help me get Kit fixed up before Dad comes.”

Kit’s face was full of perplexity as the girls dragged her up the stairs and got her into a costume of pale yellow satin that set off her dark hair. It trailed behind her in a long sweeping train.

“You look as if you had just stepped out of a picture frame, Kit Patten!” exclaimed Joy with a curtsey.

“I’ve never seen anything as lovely as this!” gasped Kit as she fingered the heavy silk.

“Pooh! That’s just one of the common dresses,” laughed Shirley. “You should see some of his real elaborate costumes in the attic. One day he showed them to us. They’re wonderful!”

“What does he do with all of them?” asked the puzzled Kit.

“Oh, Dad’s a collector. Didn’t you ever collect anything, Kit?”

“Oh, sure. I have a lot of birds’ eggs and arrowheads and Indian baskets. I have heaps of baskets at home.”

“Well, Dad collects Colonial dresses and everything else from that period. Some of the gowns came from Europe at about that time and are of gold cloth.”

“Are they very valuable?” asked Kit.

“Some are, and then others are not so costly. This one isn’t. He told us we could sometimes play with it. Probably it belonged to an ordinary person.

“How can he tell whether they are valuable or not, is what I’d like to know,” said Shirley. “If I were going to buy anything, I’m sure I’d get cheated.”

“Well the best of them get fooled once in a while. Daddy bought an imitation once. Can you imagine that? But only once, for my Dad is pretty smart.”

When Kit was arrayed in the satin gown she looked quite stately and the girls escorted her down the winding stairs to the drawing room with great ceremony. By this time Kit was in a daze from all the unusual and extravagant things about her. She scarcely saw the furniture in the drawing room, for at that moment Colonel Baxter arrived and was being greeted by the girls.

Kit’s eyes rested on the man who had just opened the door. Bet’s father! He was tall and slender, with hair that had just begun to turn gray. His large hazel eyes were gentle and intense in their interest.

There was something very boyish in the face that lit up with pleasure at sight of Bet and her chums, and his quick glance around seemed to take in everything.

Kit saw the look of amused surprise on his face as he beheld her, but in a moment the amusement had been replaced by a very formal smile of welcome as Bet introduced her new friend. The stately bow as he kissed her finger tips quite startled Kit and made her flush with embarrassment. But this quickly passed as the girls laughed heartily and gathered about him, treating him as if he were their own age.

“Oh, what do you think, Dad! Kit has come all the way from Arizona. And she has a cowpony.”

“And oh, Colonel Baxter, just think,” exclaimed Joy. “She knows a lot of cowboys and she can rope a wild steer just like they do in the movies! Don’t you think she’s wonderful!”

“Well that is wonderful, Miss Kit. When I saw you I thought you had come straight from the 18th Century, and here you are quite modern and thrilling.”

The Colonel led the way again into the drawing room, placed a chair for Kit and in a few moments her embarrassment was gone and she was talking to him about her home in Arizona as if she had always known him. He seemed interested in every detail of her life in the mountains and would exclaim with pleasure over some of the commonplace things that she related, just as Bet and her chums had done.

The three girls had left her alone with Colonel Baxter while they went to help Auntie Gibbs, for the Manor was not over supplied with servants. Auntie Gibbs found it hard to get along with anyone and preferred to do most of the work herself, having extra help come in as needed.

At dinner Kit would have felt out of place if Bet’s father had not kept her talking about her life in Arizona. Kit’s home had been one of makeshifts and to be seated at a table where the stateliness and formality of the old Colonial days was being retained, made her uneasy and anxious for fear she might make some blunder.

But Bet and her father took her attention away from such details.

“Are there any Indians left in your part of the country, Miss Kit?” the Colonel asked graciously.

“Not very many. They have died out pretty fast in the last fifty years. They are mostly on reservations.”

“What is the tribe called?” questioned Bet.

“The Apaches live up in the hills and then down nearer the towns there are Papagos. The latter have always been peaceful Indians and lived by farming.”

“Ugh! I’d be frightened of an Indian. Aren’t you, Kit?” asked Joy.

“No, not a bit. They are perfectly friendly. Most of them are too easy-going to do any harm.”

“But I thought all Apaches were cruel.”

“Indeed they’re not!” exclaimed Kit indignantly. “My father has had old Apache Joe working for him ever since I can remember. He and his squaw, Mary, pretty nearly brought me up. I love them both, and Indian Mary is the kindest old thing in the world. Why Pa and Ma couldn’t get along without them!”

“Are there any other Indians near them?” asked Shirley.

“No. They have company from the Reservation sometimes, but they seem perfectly happy with us.”

Kit could not help but notice how different this dinner was from her hastily-eaten meals in Arizona. Here there was no hurry, the dessert had been finished for some time, yet the Colonel lingered and chatted. In her own home, as soon as the last bite had been swallowed, they all arose and began to clear away. Kit liked the leisurely way in which things were done; it gave a peaceful atmosphere to the meal.

At last the Colonel rose, and Bet and her chums followed him to the drawing room.