The Staying Guest

“I should hope not, if she’s going to marry him,” said Humphreys.

“But she thinks she’s got to marry him,” went on Ladybird, “because her grandparents say she must, and because there isn’t anybody else in Plainville that would be any better.”

“And must she marry somebody?”

“Well, she doesn’t want to marry anybody; but old Mr. and Mrs. Marshall say she’s got to. And I mean that I can’t find anybody better for her in Plainville, and so that’s why I wrote to the governor; and I’m glad he sent you, for you’re ever so much handsomer than Charley Hayes, and I really think you’ll do very nicely.”

“My dear little girl,” said Humphreys, “you must get that notion out of your head. I told you in my letter that I did not come down in the interests of the fair Stella, but to see you.”

“Why did you want to see me?” said Ladybird, her big eyes wide with bewilderment.

“Because I wanted to know what kind of a child it was who wrote that letter.”

“And the governor didn’t send you?” cried Ladybird.

“No, of course the governor didn’t send me.”

“Oh, well, it’s all the same,” she said airily; “you came because I wrote that letter to the governor, so it doesn’t make any difference. And you’ll have to marry Stella, you know, because that’s what I sent for you for. You aren’t married to anybody else, are you?”

“No, of course not,” said the young man.

“Then that’s all right; and Stella is so sweet and beautiful you won’t mind it a bit.”

“You said she was beautiful, before,” observed Humphreys. “And now I think, if you please, we will go up to the house and see your aunts. I would like to pay my respects to them. You have a nice dog there.”

“Cloppy?” said Ladybird. “Yes; he is the beautifulest dog in the world.” She was kneading him like a mass of dough as she spoke. “He’s such a comfort! He never minds what I do to him.”

“And Stella, doesn’t she mind what you do to her, either?”

“Stella! Oh, she doesn’t know what I do for her. Of course when you do things for your friends you don’t tell them about it.”

“And doesn’t Stella know that you wrote to the governor in her behalf?”

“Of course not!” said Ladybird, with great dignity; and rising, she gathered up Cloppy, hung him over her arm and said: “Now, if you please, we will go to the house.”

Remarking to himself that this was certainly a jolly go, Chester Humphreys followed the picturesque figure of Ladybird as she flew through the orchards.

Crossing the great sweep of lawn, they came to Primrose Hall, where, on the front veranda, sat the Misses Flint, placidly knitting.

“My aunties,” cried Ladybird, as she came near them, “this is a friend of mine I have brought to see you. His name is Mr. Chester Humphreys, and he lives in New York, and he came here to see me.”

“Chester Humphreys!” exclaimed Aunt Priscilla, rising and dropping her knitting. “Excuse me, sir, but was your mother a Stedman?”

“She was,” said the young man; “and my father was Chester Humphreys of Newburyport.”

“Then you are the son of one of my dearest girlhood friends,” said Miss Priscilla, “and I am very glad to see you.”

Miss Dorinda fluttered about, brought a piazza chair and cushions to make their guest comfortable, while Ladybird seated herself on a cricket, took her chin in her hands, and sat gazing at the young man.

“Do you know,” Humphreys observed, “that, notwithstanding my interview with your small niece here, and my subsequent introduction to you, I don’t even yet know the name of my hostesses?”

“Flint,” said Miss Priscilla. “We are the daughters of Josiah Flint.”

“Then,” said young Humphreys, “I have always known of you; for I have heard of the Flints all my life.”

“Yes,” said Miss Priscilla, “Esther Stedman was not one to forget her old friends. And though I have not seen her for many years, I am more than glad to welcome her son to my house.”

“And I,” said Miss Dorinda. “But may I ask how it came about? Were you passing through Plainville? And how did you chance to meet Ladybird?”

“Perhaps Ladybird would prefer to tell you that herself,” said Chester Humphreys, his grave eyes looking quizzically at the child.

“Why, you know, aunties,” said Ladybird, “you know very well, for I’ve told you a hundred million times, that I wanted to find a nice, handsome young man for Stella; and so you see I wrote to the governor for one, and – and Mr. Humphreys came.”

“Lavinia Lovell,” exclaimed Miss Priscilla Flint, “do you mean to tell me – ”

“One moment, Miss Flint,” said Chester Humphreys. “Let me assure you that Ladybird’s letter was quite decorous and proper. Every citizen is privileged to write to his governor; that’s what governors are for. And it was a very nice, ladylike letter. But let me also assure you that I did not come down here in response to what the letter asked for, but merely to meet the plucky and loyal friend who wrote it.”

“I am glad to see you, Mr. Humphreys,” said Miss Priscilla. “I beg you will dismiss entirely from your mind this ridiculous performance of my niece, and I will promise you that Lavinia shall not be allowed to think of it again, or to mention it to that very estimable young lady, Miss Stella Russell.”

“Oh, no, aunty,” said Ladybird; “I wouldn’t say a word to Stella for anything; but won’t Mr. Humphreys be gorgeous for her?”

“Go to your room, Lavinia,” said Miss Priscilla, sternly; and picking up Cloppy, Ladybird went.

CHAPTER XVI

LADYBIRD TRIUMPHANT

“Mr. Humphreys,” said Miss Priscilla Flint, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am that my niece should have been guilty of this escapade; but I beg you to believe that we regret it sincerely, and that she shall be appropriately punished.”

“Oh, don’t punish her!” said the young man, impetuously. “I’m very sure she had no other thought than a kind interest in her friend’s welfare.”

“That makes no difference,” said Miss Priscilla; “she is old enough to know better, and she should have come to us for advice, and then this ridiculous piece of business would not have happened.”

“And we should never have met Mr. Humphreys,” said Miss Dorinda, smiling at the pleasant-faced young man.

“That would have been my misfortune,” he replied. “But truly, dear ladies, you take this affair too seriously. Your niece is apparently full of wild and erratic schemes; but she is a dear little girl, and most true-hearted, and loyal to her friend. How old is she?”

“She is fourteen,” said Miss Flint, decidedly, “but she insists that she is only twelve. It is very strange,” she went on musingly; “but her whole history is strange. She is the daughter of my dead sister, but in no way does she resemble her, nor is she at all like her father. Although we knew him but slightly, he was a firm, well-balanced character, while Lavinia is wilful, mischievous and erratic.”

“But she is a clever child,” put in Miss Dorinda, “and most loving and affectionate.”

“She seems to be,” said Mr. Humphreys. “And I beg, dear ladies, that you will dismiss entirely from your mind this incident of her letter to Governor Hyde; for you may rest assured that no one else shall ever hear of it; and personally, I am very glad that it has given me the pleasure of knowing some of my mother’s friends.”

“I, too, am glad of that part of it,” said Miss Priscilla Flint. “And we shall be most happy to have you dine with us and remain overnight.”

Chester Humphreys gladly accepted the invitation, privately wondering if Ladybird were allowed to sit up to dinner. A few moments later, light footsteps crossed the veranda, and a flushed and smiling young woman entered the room quickly.

“How do you do, Miss Dorinda?” she said. “How do you do, Miss Flint? Is Ladybird ill?”