Part 11 (1/2)

Just then Letty drove up and stopped again. Mrs. Hartwell-Jones began to ask her questions about the ponies; whether they were afraid of trains, motor cars, or things like that.

”No, ma'am, they are very gentle,” replied Letty earnestly, overcoming her awe of the ”author-lady” in her anxiety to do justice to the ponies.

”They have so much sense and intelligence, from being taught things that they always listen to reason.”

Mrs. Hartwell-Jones smiled kindly.

”Their intelligence certainly has been cultivated,” she agreed, ”but are they practical? I mean, will they be content to go jogging peacefully about country roads with a quiet old lady? They might miss the spangle and sawdust of the circus, you know. Or if they heard a band play, they might stand up on their hind legs, carriage and all, and begin to waltz.”

Jane and Christopher shouted with laughter at that suggestion. Even Letty laughed, and then reddened with embarra.s.sment.

”I don't believe they would do that,” she answered politely.

”If they're anything like Letty, they'll be glad to get away from the circus,” added Christopher. ”Isn't Letty funny, not to like the circus?

I should think it would be bully-specially with such jolly little beasts as Punch and Judy to show off.”

”Those are the ponies' names, you know,” put in Jane. ”They are twins, grandmother, twin brother and sister, the same as Kit and me.”

It was grandmother's and Mrs. Hartwell-Jones's turn to laugh now. Then there were a great many more questions to be asked about the ponies, and everybody was so interested and excited that they forgot all about dinner-even Christopher-until Huldah came out the second time to say everything would be spoiled. Christopher was sent to the stable to fetch Jo Perkins to look after the ponies and grandmother invited Letty to stay for dinner.

”You must be very hungry,” said Jane, as she led Letty up-stairs to wash her hands. ”I am always starved when I've been to the village. Huldah cooks awfully good dinners.”

It was impossible for any one to feel shy very long in that cheerful household, and Letty soon began to enjoy herself very much, although she was very quiet.

Mrs. Hartwell-Jones's mind was still busy over that new idea that Jane's speech had given her and she watched Letty very closely without seeming to do so.

”She is a very sweet-mannered child,” she reflected. ”I find it hard to realize that she is only a little circus girl. She must have had a wonderfully good mother. I must manage to have a long talk with her.”

After dinner the real business began. Joshua examined the ponies carefully while the twins looked on with bated breath. Suppose Joshua should find something wrong with those delightful, charming little animals!

”But he couldn't, oh, he couldn't!” whispered Jane to herself over and over.

And Joshua didn't.

Then the price must be settled upon. As this subject did not interest the children, and as they were forbidden to drive the ponies again because they must be rested for the return trip to the circus field, they carried Letty off to show her Juno's puppies, the orchard, and their treasures and playgrounds generally.

”If I'd a-thought the lady would surely take the ponies,” said Mr. Drake when the transaction was satisfactorily concluded, ”I'd a-druv over with another horse, so's Letty an' me could of got back and I could of left the ponies right now. But I guess my wife'll be glad to have one more good sight of 'em. It's strange how fond we all are of them ponies, mem; something like they was pet dogs. The little un,” pointing with his thumb in the direction in which Letty had disappeared, ”she'll most cry her eyes out, I guess. Poor little un, I'm afraid there's a good many troubles ahead o' her.” And he shook his head regretfully. He had a kind heart under his rough jacket.

”I was given to understand that the girl is to leave you?” said Mrs.

Hartwell-Jones thoughtfully. ”Is she no relation at all to you or your wife?”

”No, mem, none at all. Her big brother Ben was our prize tight-rope walker. A wonder, he was. But he fell an' broke his neck; dreadful accident, mem. It happened only last summer. The little un took on dreadful. She always lived with her big brother; all her folks are dead and she hasn't any friends but us. Folk ain't very cordial to circus folk and their kin, for some reason, though you couldn't find a nicer spoken child than Miss Letty there. After the accident we kept her on with us. She's most astonis.h.i.+n' helpful. My wife she sets great store by her, but Letty don't seem to care for the rovin' life. I guess she won't mind parting company, 'cept for bein' sorry to leave my wife an' the kid. But it's powerful uncertain what's to become of her. My wife'll do the best she can for her when we get to the city.”

”I was thinking,” said Mrs. Hartwell-Jones slowly, ”that perhaps I could find a position for the girl. But I should like to talk to your wife first.”

”Yes'm?” replied the man hopefully. ”I guess my wife could suit you all right about Letty's character, mem. We'd like first-rate to see Letty get a good place of some sort, where she was treated kind and not worked too hard.”

”Mr. Baker,” said Mrs. Hartwell-Jones, turning to grandfather, ”I'd like to ask a favor of you. Might Joshua drive the phaeton into the village-to where Mr. Drake has his tents-to bring me home? I think I should like to take a drive behind my new ponies to see how I am going to like them and the little carriage.” For the basket-phaeton had been bought, too.