At first there was no answer to her knock. Napoleon had fallen asleep over his papers. At last she succeeded in arousing him. "What do you want?" he asked rather gruffly as he came to the little door.

"Let me in, and you will know."

"No, tell me first what you want and then I will let you in."

Betsy was not so sure of this, but since she could not help it, she had to explain her errand.

"I wish to introduce a young lady to you."

"Oh, no, indeed; I am not well."

"But she will be so disappointed,--and she is so pretty."

"Not like the lady I was obliged to say agreeable things to yesterday?"

"Oh, no, she is very different. She is really young and handsome."

"Very well, then, since you have promised, I suppose I must go, but come in for a minute,"--this not very politely, it must be admitted. As Betsy entered the little enclosure she rushed to the table and rather rudely s.n.a.t.c.hed up some of the papers on which Napoleon had been at work.

"Now," she said, "for your ill-nature in making me stand so long at the door, I shall keep these and find out all your secrets."

The Emperor looked at Betsy with some alarm. He did not like to see his papers in her hands.

"Put them down instantly," he cried.

"No, no," rejoined Betsy, running around the garden with the papers held high above her head. The Emperor looked at her sternly.

"Very well! Unless you obey me at once, I shall no longer be your friend."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Hardly ever before had Betsy heard Napoleon speak so severely. She saw that he was in earnest and that she must obey. She saw, too, that she was in danger of losing his regard, and even without looking far ahead she realized that he might not go to her friend, if her own foolishness continued longer. So, giving up her trophies, she seized the Emperor's hand and led him to the house.

Now that he had yielded to Betsy's wishes, Napoleon was most courteous to her guest. He talked graciously to the young lady, complimented her on her beauty, and when she was ready to go home helped her on her horse.

"She is a very pretty girl," he said later to Betsy, "but she has the airs of a _marchande de modes_."

In thus intruding on Napoleon in his arbor study, Betsy had shown a rashness that no one else in the family would have ventured to imitate.

One day, however, Betsy aided an intruder, whose behavior the Emperor could not resent although he was disturbed by it.

It happened in this way. One morning while Napoleon was busy in his outdoor study making notes, Betsy was romping about in the garden near by.

"Come, Tom Pipes!" she called loudly; and a second later a beautiful Newfoundland dog rushed to her side. Tom Pipes belonged to Sir George c.o.c.kburn, the Admiral, and was well known to every one at The Briars, as he was in the habit of accompanying his master on his occasional visits to Mr. Balcombe's house. After his long run up the mountainous road under the hot sun, Tom Pipes was always delighted to reach The Briars, for the place had many ponds and little streams, into which the intelligent dog would plunge for a swim.

On this particular day, Tom needed no second word from Betsy to make him accept her invitation to take a dip in the pond, stocked with gold and silver fish, that was near Napoleon's arbor. The dog bathed and swam and amused himself in the water, and at last clambered up the bank. A moment later, as if tired from his exertions, he lay down by Napoleon's side.

Napoleon, like every one else at The Briars, knew and admired the dog, and if he noticed Tom Pipes's approach had no objection to it. He was so absorbed in his work, however, that he probably was hardly aware of the nearness of the creature. After a few minutes' rest, Tom Pipes realized that he had not completed his toilet. So, rising to his feet, he began to shake himself vigorously. Instantly a shower of water bespattered Napoleon's face and clothing, and drenched the papers on the table. The sheet on which he was writing was entirely spoiled, and he himself looked rather ridiculous, as he tried to brush off the drops of water.

In spite of his annoyance, Napoleon could not help laughing, for although he scolded and did his best to drive Tom Pipes away, the dog could not understand him. The two had been shipmates on the _Northumberland_, and the dog was so delighted to see Napoleon again that instead of running away, he kept jumping on him, leaving on the Emperor's clothing repeated imprints of his wet and muddy paws.

While all this was happening, Betsy, looking on, was convulsed with laughter. She had not had this particular ending in mind when she had called Tom Pipes to play with her, but no deliberate practical joke of hers had ever been more amusing to her; and the best part of it was that the Emperor could not really blame her nor punish Tom Pipes.

Very often, however, it was not Betsy who got the best of a practical joke. Not infrequently she lost her temper over little things that were not worth minding, and Napoleon, to whom she was a constant source of amus.e.m.e.nt, could not forbear teasing her, just to see how she would take his fun. One day, looking over Betsy's shoulder, Napoleon discovered that her translation was not finished. Her father required this bit of work from her every day, and now Napoleon saw a way to pay her back in some of her own coin.

Taking the paper from Betsy, and holding it aloft, the Emperor approached Mr. Balcombe, who was now mounting his horse for a ride.

"Balcombe," he cried, "_voila le theme de Mdlle. Betsee. Qu'elle a bien travaille!_" he concluded sarcastically.

Betsy's father looked at the sheet of paper which was quite blank, and, entering into the spirit of the thing with Napoleon, he professed to be very angry. Calling Betsy to him, he reproved her severely.

"If your translation is not ready when I return home to dinner, I will punish you severely." Mortified by this reproof, Betsy cherished plans of retaliation against the Emperor, which she carried out when she pinioned him in the corner with her sword.

Yet after all she deserved the reproof, since her father had made a rigid rule that his daughters should have a translation from English into French ready every morning before the hour when Napoleon visited The Briars. He rightly considered it a great privilege for the young girls that the great man should be willing to look at their French themes, with a view to improving their use of his language.

One morning the sisters observed Archambaud, Napoleon's groom, leading a beautiful horse in front of the house.

"That is the Arab they have bought for him to ride."

"I shouldn't think he'd care to ride that horse," responded the timid Jane. "See how he rears and plunges."

"He's afraid of that white cloth on the lawn."

"Yes, but they've put it there on purpose, to break him of the habit of shying."

While they were speaking, Napoleon approached.

"Sir," said the confident Betsy, "I don't believe you can ride that horse."

"I! Don't you think me a good rider?"

"Yes; I think you look better on horseback than any one I have ever seen."

"Only _look_!" Napoleon was trying to draw her out.

"But you really ride better than anyone else, as I told you the other day when you rode around the lawn. I didn't suppose any one could make a horse wheel in such a narrow circle."

"Yet you think this Arab could conquer me!"

"But it looks so ugly,--I mean its disposition."

The Emperor, without replying directly, called Archambaud to him and bade him dismount, while he took his seat on the fiery horse. The girls looked on in horror, but Napoleon only smiled the more, as he compelled the horse to pa.s.s the cloth and continued his discipline until he made the creature put his foot on it.

Archambaud gazed open-mouthed, hardly knowing whether to laugh or to cry. The Emperor persevered, and in a short time the horse was absolutely obedient to him, and the groom, though chagrined at his own failure, was pleased by the Emperor's success.

"Ah," said Napoleon, dismounting, "it would be a strange horse that did not understand me. There was one that I rode once one hundred and twenty-nine miles in one day. My mother was ill, and I had to do it; but the horse, poor thing, died in the course of the night."

"And you?" asked Betsy.

"Ah, I was fatigued, but in or out of the saddle makes little difference to me. I could almost sleep in the saddle. But, come, young ladies," he continued, "I came here to invite you to see my china. It is all unpacked."