"Probably wears long dresses, and does her hair in a chignogger," said Kat, from a perch on the foot-board of the bed, where she rested in idle moments.

"'Tisn't to be supposed that she can be treated so like a young lady, and not get stuck up. Just to think of having a maid, and being called Miss Dering, when you are only twelve. Hollo, Kittie! hand me that pile of skirts, and I'll fold them."

"Dear me," said Kittie, handing over the snowy starched heap. "You have six white skirts, Olive, and three of them trimmed. I'd feel terribly fixed up, and lady-like with so many."

"Pooh! some girls have six dozen, with tucks, and ruffles and puffles on every blessed one of them," said Kat, making the starched cloth rattle with her vigorous folding.

"All nonsense," a.s.sented Kittie, down on her knees before the trunk.

"Now hand me the things and I'll pack. Kat, you're knocking everything off the table, the way you whisk those skirts around. Hand me the black dress; that's the heaviest and must go in first."

"Where's the other black tip?" asked Bea, who was tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the travelling hat. "There it is, you blew it behind the table with your whirlwind of skirts; hand it to me, Kat."

"What fun it is to pack and go away," said Kat, fishing out the desired feather with Olive's parasol. "You pack like a captain, Kittie. I'd most likely have put her best hat in the first thing, shoe polish next, and then tumbled in anything that I happened to lay my hands on. Dear me, I wish I was going."

"I really think it's too bad that you haven't a party dress, Olive,"

said Kittie, with some disapproval.

"Whatever would she do with a party dress," cried Kat, once more enthroned on the foot-board. "Who'd give a party, I'd like to know? One old man, a little girl, and a pile of servants!"

"Young Mr. Congreve is there," corrected Bea.

"S'pose he is; and anyhow, I hope you'll snub him, Olive; he's going to own Congreve Hall, and it ought to have been papa's. If he was a decent man he wouldn't take it. How are you going to treat him?"

"I don't know;--yes, I like the feather that way; you ought to see how nicely my dress hangs," said Olive, in a little flutter of pleasing excitement. "Really, it's quite nice getting ready to go away. I only wish the visit was over and done with, and all this preparation was for sending me off to study."

"Don't worry about your studying, you're twice as smart now as any of us," said Bea, surveying her work, from its perch on her finger. "Now try this on, Olive, I've tipped the feather a little more to one side, and it looks more jaunty--just the thing too; isn't that becoming girls?"

"Perfectly mag!" exclaimed Kat, making an eye-gla.s.s of her hands, and falling into a rapture of admiration that pretty near upset her from the foot-board.

"I declare, you're going to be very distinguished looking, Olive," said Kittie, resting from her packing to survey, and pa.s.s an opinion. "And a c.o.c.ked hat is very becoming. The next thing we hear, you will be creating a sensation in Staunton that will shake the whole of Virginia."

"Very likely," laughed Olive; but she looked pleased, for there was honest admiration in each sister's voice; and, after all, it is no small thing to be going off alone, with a trunk filled by loving hands, a new c.o.c.ked hat that is becoming, and the pleasing thought of looking well in all respects, and perhaps "distinguished."

The day for departure came at last; and in the afternoon sunshine, Olive, trunk and satchel stood on the porch, waiting for the express wagon; and the front door stood open, and there was a great deal of laughing and talking going on within, that sounded very gay and happy.

Dr. Barnett had taken advantage of the little excitement to drop in, though he had been around only the evening before, and bid Olive good-bye, with much ceremony and many good wishes; but no one seemed to object to his being on hand again, for Bea looked her unconscious happiness, and Mrs. Dering was cordial and kind, and the young doctor was in a dream of bliss.

"Where's Ralph?" exclaimed Olive, suddenly, when the real good-bye moment had fairly come; if such it could be called, when the whole family were going to the depot with the young traveller.

"He's gone, sure enough!" said Kittie, after some hasty and l.u.s.ty calling had taken place. "I suppose he's gone on down to the train; but it's funny the wagon don't come."

"I'll trot down to the gate and see if it is in sight," volunteered Kat, who was obliged to keep moving as a vent to excitement; but just as she started, there rattled up to the gate, in great style, the handsomest of Canfield's two hacks, and out of it sprang Ralph.

"I wanted you to go off in style," he said, well pleased with himself when he saw Olive's delighted look. "Here cabby, is the trunk! Now, ladies--hollo, doctor! you going to the train?"

"Well, really," said Dr. Barnett, hesitating, "I hadn't thought, but, if Miss Olive will allow me, I'll be happy."

He said Miss Olive, but, bless you! he looked right straight at Miss Beatrice, and she smiled; and after that, neither ever knew whether Olive was willing or not.

"This is putting on style with a vengeance," said Kat, as the ladies seated themselves in the back, after the trunk had been tossed aloft.

"People will think the whole family is departing for Europe."

CHAPTER XV.

CONGREVE HALL.

"That's Olive! that's Olive! Oh I'm so glad; hurry James, there she is!"

It was an eager, childish voice, ringing joyfully through the Staunton depot, and making every one turn and smile at the speaker, who stood in a large carriage, running her eyes over the crowd that gathered as the train came in and stopped; and suddenly breaking into that joyful cry, as she watched for a face, which appeared among so many strange ones.

"Yes, Miss Jean; the young lady in grey?"

"Yes, and hurry; she doesn't see us yet," cried Jean, almost leaping from the carriage in her eager excitement, but James made his way through the crowd, and Olive suddenly found herself confronted by a tall man who lifted his hat.

"Miss Dering? Miss Jean is in the carriage; may I take your satchel?

This way, please."

Olive followed, with her heart fluttering wildly; but almost before her quick eye discovered her little sister, James had paused at the carriage, and Jean was laughing and crying on her neck.

"Oh, Olive, I'm so glad and happy, I don't know what to do! I was so afraid you wouldn't come--and Uncle Ridley told me I mustn't get out of the carriage--and cousin Roger couldn't come with me--and I'm so glad you came--and how is mama and the girls--why don't you say something?"

More than one person in hearing of this incoherent outburst, smiled broadly, and James was obliged to lower his head as he a.s.sisted Olive into the carriage, lest the twinkle of amus.e.m.e.nt in his face, should mar his profound dignity and professed stolidity for anything outside his coachmanship.

"Do tell me everything--quick," cried Jean, as the carriage started onward, and she took her seat on Olive's lap. "Didn't mama send her picture, or something? I'd give twenty million dollars, if I had it, if I could just see her for a few little minutes. I guess I've cried about fifty gallons of tears to see you all since I came here."

"Cried, when you are getting well?" laughed Olive, just beginning to realize how much she had wanted to see the little sister, who was now clinging to her with such joyous love.

"Yes, indeed I have; and then Bettine gets so sorry for me, and says it isn't right, but then, I think G.o.d ought not to make me love mama and you all so much, if He does not want me to cry to see you."

"And are you ever so much better?" asked Olive.

"Oh yes, I never use my crutch now, only a little cane to help me, and the first time I really walk without any thing, I'm going to have my picture taken for mama."

"I will draw it," exclaimed Olive. "If I am here, and have you standing among the flowers."

"How nice," cried Jean; then drew back a little, and looked at her sister, as though just aware that she was really present.

"Why, Olive, you--seems to me--I don't know; but then, aren't you changed a good deal, someway?"

"I don't know; do you think I am?" asked Olive feeling the color creep into her cheeks, at the honest childish question.

"Yes, it seems to me you are;" and Jean looked undecided whether to go on. "You look so nice and pretty, and then you don't seem a bit cross; is it because you are glad to see me?"

"That's just exactly it," cried Olive, moved to hide her face.