Part 6 (1/2)
CHAPTER VI
”LORD BETTERSON'S”
On a sort of headland jutting out froion into the low prairie of the river bottom, stood a house, known far and near as ”Lord Betterson's,” or, as it was sometimes derisively called, ”Lord Betterson's Castle,” the house being about as much a castle as the oas a lord
The main road of the settlement ran between it and the woods; while on the side of the river the land swept down in a lovely slope to the valley, which floay in a wider and reen It was really a fine site, shaded by five or six young oaks left standing in the spacious door-yard
The trouble was, that the house had been projected on sorand a scale for the time and country and, orse, for the owner's resources He had never been able to finish it; and now its weather-browned clapboards, unpainted front pillars, and general shabby, ill-kept appearance, set off the style of architecture in a way to er mouthful than he could swaller, when he sot out to build his castle here,” said his neighbor, Peakslow
The proprietor's name--it may as well be explained--was Elisha Lord Betterson It was thus he alrote it, in a large round hand, with a bold flourish Now the common people never will subo will be _'Lisha_, or _'Lishy_; and, ten to one, the tendency to monosyllables will result in _'Lishe_ There had been a feeble attear to familiarize the public mind with _'Lishe Betterson_; but the nanity of character It was useless to argue that his dignity wasa fine house, broke down before he got the pri on, was unworthy of respect; still no one could look at hie, and say, conscientiously, ”'Lishe Betterson” He who, in this unsettled state of things, taking a hint from the middle name, pronounced boldly aloud, ”LORD BETTERSON,” was a public benefactor
”Lord Betterson” and ”Lord Betterson's Castle” had been popular ever since
The house, with its door-posts of unpainted pine darkly soiled by the contact of unwashed childish hands, and its unfinished roo just the point at which the owner's resources failed), looked even more shabby within than without
This may have been partly because the house-keeper was sick She ure, sitting wrapped in an old red shawl, that suly discouraged And no wonder
[Illustration: ”LORD BETTERSON”]
At her right hand was an e to still its cries At her left was a lounge, on which lay the helpless forirl about eleven years old
The roo half covered the rough floor; its originally gaudy pattern, out of which all but the red had faded, bearing witness to so to set off the surrounding wretchedness
Tipped back in a chair against the rough and broken laths, his knees as high as his chin, was a big slovenly boy of about seventeen, looking lazily out froed hat-ri, slovenly boy, a year or two younger, sat on the doorstep, whittling quite as much for his own aamuffin outside
Not irl shone froood cheer visible in that disorderly rooirl not more than nine or ten years old,--so small, in truth, that she had to stand on a stool by the table, where she ashi+ng a pan of dishes
”O boys!” said the woo to the spring and bring some fresh water for your poor, sick sister”
”It's Rufe's turn to go for water,” said the boy on the doorstep
”'T ain't ainst the laths ”Besides, I've got to s the cattle home Hear the bell yet, Wad?”
”Never mind, Cecie!” cried the little dish-washer, cheerily ”I'll bring you so her wet hands behind her, she ran to give the young invalid a kiss in the mean while
Cecie returned a warm smile of love and thanks, and said she was in no hurry Then the child, stopping only to give a bright look and a pleasant word to the baby, ran back to her dishes
”I should think you would be ashareat boys!” said the woman, ”to sit round the house and let that child Lilian wait upon you, get your suppers, wash your dishes, and then go to the spring for water for your poor suffering sister!”
”I'islature,” said Wad, ”to have that spring o for water There coo and head 'em into the barnyard,” yawned Rufe, fro-machine Wish I had one Just turn a crank, you know”