"No, nor don't want to. We ain't makin' jelly to-night, and do for goodness' sake get to work!" cried Alfaretta, imparting energy to all by her own activity. "Ma says I'm a born cook and I'm going to prove it, to-night, though I don't expect to cook for a living. Jane Potter, you ought to know better than peel them 'tatoes so thick. 'Many littles make a mickle,' I mean a lot of potato skins make a potato--Oh! bother, do right, that's all. Just because Mrs. Calvert she's a rich 'ristocratic, 'tain't no reason we should waste her substance on the pigs."

Jane did not retort, but it was noticeable that thereafter she kept her eyes more closely on her work and not dreamily upon the floor.

Presently, from out that roomy kitchen rose a medley of odors that floated even to the workers out of doors; each odor most appetizing and distinct to the particular taste of one or another of the lads.

"That's fried chicken! Glad they had sense enough to give us something hearty," said Monty, smacking his lips.

Herbert sniffed, then advised: "I'll warrant you that Helena will try angel cake. If she does, don't any of you touch it; or if you think that isn't polite and will hurt her feelings, why take a piece and leave it lie beside your plate. Wonder if they'll ever get the supper ready, anyhow."

"Afraid it'll be just 'anyhow,'" wailed Monty. "Those girls can't cook worth a cent."

"Don't you think that, sir. Our up-mountain girls are no fools. I hope Alfaretta Babc.o.c.k will make pies, I've et 'em to picnics and they're prime," said Mike Martin, loyally.

"Well, I only hope they don't keep us too long. I begin to feel as if I could eat hay with the cattle."

After all, the young cooks were fairly successful, and the delay not very great. Most of them were well trained helpers at home, even Dorothy had been such; but this time she had failed.

"Three times I've made those things just exactly like the rule--only four times as much--and those miserable pop-overs just will not pop!

We might as well call the boys and give them what there is. And----"

At this moment Dorothy withdrew her head from a careful scrutiny of the oven, and--screamed! The next instant she had darted forward to the imposing figure framed in the doorway and thrown her arms about it, crying:

"O, Aunt Betty, Aunt Betty! I'm a bad, careless girl, but I love you and I'm so glad, so glad you've come!"

CHAPTER XIV

AUNT BETTY TAKES A HAND

That picnic-supper! The fun of it must be imagined, not described.

Sufficient to say that it was the merriest meal yet served in that great mansion; that all, including Mrs. Calvert, brought to it appet.i.tes which did not hesitate at "failures," and found even Helena's angel cake palatable, though Herbert did remark to his next neighbor:

"If they'd had that kind of leathery stuff instead of canvas to cover that circus tent it would never have broken through, never in the world!"

Not the least delighted of that company were the servants, who returned late from their outing, and had had to walk up the mountain from the Landing; they having lingered in the hill-city till the last possible train, which there were no local stages to meet.

"And to think that our Miss Dorothy had the kindness to get supper for us, too! Sure, she's the bonniest, dearest la.s.s ever lived out of old Ireland. Hungry, say you? Sure I could have et the two shoes off my feet, I was that starved! And to think of her and them others just waitin' on us same's if we was the family! Bless her! And now I'm that filled I feel at peace with all the world and patience enough to chase them naughty spalpeens to their bed! See at 'em! As wide awake now as the morn and it past nine of the night!" cried Norah, coming into the room where the twins were having a delightful battle with the best sofa cushions; Mrs. Calvert looking on with much amus.e.m.e.nt and as yet not informed who they were and why so at home at Deerhurst.

The chatter of tongues halted a little when, as the clock struck the half-hour, Mr. Seth came in. He looked very weary, but infinitely relieved at the unexpected return of the mistress of the house, and his greeting was most cordial. Indeed, there was something about it which suggested to the young guests that their elders might wish to be alone; so, one after another, they bade Mrs. Betty good-night and disappeared.

Dorothy, also, was for slipping quietly away, but Aunt Betty bade her remain; saying gently:

"We won't sleep, my child, till we have cleared away all the clouds between us. As for you, Cousin Seth, what has so wearied you?

Something more than chaperoning a lot of young folks to a circus, I fancy."

"You're right. The afternoon performance was a pleasure; the ride home a trial."

"With whom did you ride?"

"Oliver Sands."

"Indeed? How came----"

"It's a long story, Cousin Betty. Wouldn't we better wait till morning?"

"Don't you know how much curiosity I have? Do you want to keep me awake all night?" demanded the lady. But she believed that her old friend had some deep perplexity on his mind and that it would be a comfort to him to share it with her. "Is it something Dorothy may hear?"

"Certainly, if you wish. Already she knows part. Has she told you how the twins came here?"

"Somebody told, I forget who. All of the young folks talked at once, but I learned that they had been dropped on our premises, like a couple of kittens somebody wished to lose."

"Exactly; and though he did not personally 'drop' them, the man who most heartily wishes to lose them is miller Oliver Sands. They are his most unwelcome grandchildren."

"Why, Cousin Seth!" "Why, Master!" cried the hearers, amazed.

"True. Their mother was Rose Sands, whom her father always believed--or said--was ruined by the foolish name her mother gave her.

His sons were like himself and are, I believe, good men enough, though tainted with their father's hardness."

"Hardness. That suave old Quaker! But you're right, and I never liked him."

"Nor I, I'm sorry to say, but I don't wish to let that fact stand in the way of fair judgment. The man is in trouble, deep trouble. I'm not the only one who has noticed it. His behavior for awhile back has been most peculiar. He neglects his business, leaves the fruit in his vineyards and orchards to go to waste, and to his workmen's question: 'What shall we do next,' returns no answer. He has taken to roaming about the country, calling at every house and inspecting each one and its surroundings as if he were looking for something he can't find.

His face has lost its perpetual smile--or smirk--and betrays the fact that he is an old man and a most unhappy one."

"Huh! I've no great sympathy for Oliver Sands. He has wronged too many people," said Mrs. Calvert, coldly. "But if those children are his grandchildren, what are they doing here?"

"I'm coming to that. His daughter, Rose, 'married out of meeting,' and against her father's will. He turned her out of doors, forbade her mother ever to see or speak to her again, and though--being a Friend--he took no oath, his resolution to cast her off was equivalent to one. That part of my tale is common neighborhood gossip."

"I never heard it," said Mrs. Betty.

"No; such would scarcely be retailed to you. Well, Rose took refuge with her husband's people, and all misfortune followed her flight from her father's house. Her mother-in-law, her consumptive husband, and herself are dead; she pa.s.sing away as the twins came into the world.

The father-in-law, who was only a country-cobbler, but a profoundly religious man, became half-crazed by his troubles, and though I believe he honestly did his best by the babies left on his hands, they must have suffered much. They have never been so happy as now and I hope----"

"Please, Mr. Seth, let me tell! Aunt Betty, if you'll let me, I want to adopt Sapphira!"

"Adopt--Sapphira! You? A child yourself?"

"Yes, please. I'll go without everything myself and I'd work, if I could, to earn money to do it. Molly is going to adopt Ananias. It will be lovely to have some object in life, and some the Seniors at the Rhinelander adopted some Chinese babies. True. They pay money each month, part of their allowance, to do it; so we thought----"

But Aunt Betty was leaning back in her chair and laughing in a most disconcerting manner. It's not easy to be enthusiastic on a subject that is ridiculed and Dorothy said no more. But if she were hurt by having her unselfish project thus lightly treated, she was made instantly glad by the tender way her guardian drew her close, and the gentle pat of the soft old hand on her own cheek.

"Oh! you child, you children! And I made the mistake of thinking you were as wise as a grown-up! We'll attend to the 'adoption' case, by and by. Let Cousin Seth say his say now."

"Well, finally, the old man, Hiram Bowen, forsook his old home, sold his few belongings and came here to our mountain. He must have had some sense left, and realized that he was not long for this world, because though until lately he has been unforgiving to Oliver Sands for the treatment of Rose, he now sought to interest her father on the little ones' behalf. I've learned he made frequent visits to Heartsease, the Sands' farm, but only once saw its owner. But he often saw Dorcas, the wife, and found her powerless to help him; besides, he did not mend matters, even with her, by explaining that he had named the twins as he had--'_after her husband, and herself!_' He told her that she and Oliver were living liars, because the Scripture commanded Christians to look after their own households and they did not do so."

"But how could her heart, the heart of any woman, remain hard against the sight of her orphan grandchildren?" demanded Mrs. Calvert, impatiently. "I've met that Dorcas Sands on the road, going to meeting with the miller, and she looked the very soul of meekness and gentleness."