Harper's Round Table, July 30, 1895 Part 4

"You are a perfect dear!" she whispered. "Everything is nicer since you came. Even the chickens came out for you, and last time it was so dreadful." And Mrs. Franklin smiled again and felt comforted.

The table was decorated with roses and lovely ferns, strewn here and there with apparent carelessness, but really after much earnest study of effects. Bowls of great unhulled strawberries added their touch of color, as did the generous slices of golden sponge-cake. The dainty china and gla.s.s gleamed in the afternoon light, and the artistic arrangement added not a little to the already good appet.i.tes of the boys and girls.

Fortunately Oakleigh was equal to any emergency in the eating line, and as rapidly as the piles of three-cornered sandwiches, fairylike rolls, and other goodies disappeared the dishes were replenished as if by magic.

After supper the piano was rolled over to the front window in the long parlor.

"Put it close to the window," said Mrs. Franklin, "and I will sit outside, like the eldest daughter in _The Peterkins_, to play. That will give me the air, and you can hear the music better."

They danced on the lawn and played games to the music; then they gathered on the porch and sang college songs, while the sun sank at the end of the long summer day, and the stars came twinkling out, and by-and-by the full moon rose over the tree-tops and flooded them with her light.

Altogether, Jack's second "hatching bee" was a success. A good time, a good supper, and, best of all, one hundred and forty chickens. Yes, it really seemed as if poultry were going to pay, and "Franklin & Gordon,"

of the Oakleigh Poultry Farm, went to bed quite elated with prosperity.

The next morning at breakfast they were discussing the matter, and Mr.

Franklin expressed his unqualified approval of the scheme.

"If you succeed in raising your chickens, now that they are hatched, Jack, my boy, I think you are all right. You owe Aunt Betsey a debt of thanks. By-the-way, where is Aunt Betsey? Have you heard from her lately?"

There was no answer. Jack exploded into a laugh which he quickly repressed, Edith looked very solemn, while Cynthia had the appearance of being on the verge of tears.

"I want to see Aunt Betsey," said Mrs. Franklin, as she b.u.t.tered a roll for w.i.l.l.y. "I think she must be a very interesting character."

"It is very extraordinary that we have heard nothing from her," went on Mr. Franklin. "What can be the meaning of it? When was she last here, Edith?"

"In June."

"Was it when I was at home? Hasn't she been here since the time she gave Jack the money for the incubator?"

"That was in May. You were in Albany when she was here the last time."

"It is very strange that she has never written nor come to see you, Hester. It can't be that she is offended with something, can it? I must take you up to Wayborough to see the dear old lady. I am very fond of Aunt Betsey, and I would not hurt her feelings for the world."

There was a pause, and then into the silence came Janet's shrill tones:

"I know why Aunt Betsey's feelings are hurted. They was turribly hurted.

Edith an' Cynthia an' Jack all knows too."

"Janet, hus.h.!.+" interposed Edith.

"Not at all; let the child speak," said her father. "What do you know, Janet?"

"Aunt Betsey came, an' she went to see Mrs. Parker, an' Mrs. Parker said she'd been there before an' Aunt Betsey said she hadn't, an' it wasn't Aunt Betsey at all, it was Cynthia dressed up like her, an' Aunt Betsey said we was all naughty 'cause we didn't want the bride to come, an' the bride was mamma, and we didn't want her, it was the trufe, an' Aunt Betsey went off mad 'cause Cynthia dressed up like her. She wouldn't stay all night, she just went off slam-bang hopping mad."

"What does the child mean?" exclaimed her father. "Will some one explain? Edith, what was the trouble?"

"I would rather not say," said Edith, her eyes fastened on her plate.

"That is no way to speak to your father. Answer me."

"Papa, I cannot. It is not my affair."

"It is your affair. I insist."

"Wait, John," interposed Mrs. Franklin.

"Not at all; I can't wait. Edith was here in charge of the family.

Something happened to offend Aunt Betsey. Now she must explain what it was. I hold her responsible."

"Indeed she's not, papa," said Cynthia, at last finding her voice.

"Edith is not to blame; I am the one. I found Aunt Betsey's false front, and I dressed up and looked exactly like her, and Jack drove me to see Mrs. Parker. Edith didn't want me to go, but I would do it. Really, papa, Edith isn't a bit to blame. And then when Aunt Betsey came soon afterwards she went to see Mrs. Parker, and she didn't like it because she said she had been there two weeks ago and told her--I mean, Mrs.

Parker told me about--"

Cynthia stopped abruptly.

"Well, go on," said her father, impatiently.

Still Cynthia said nothing.

"Cynthia, will you continue? If not--"

"Oh yes, papa; though--but--well, Mrs. Parker told me that you were going to marry again. And then when Aunt Betsey really went, Mrs. Parker said, 'I told you so.' Aunt Betsey didn't like that, and when she asked us if she had been here, of course we had to say no, and she was going right back to tell Mrs. Parker what we said; so I had to confess, and, of course, Aunt Betsey didn't like it, and she went right home that day."

Mr. Franklin pushed back his chair from the table, and began to walk up and down.

"I am perfectly astonished at your doing such a thing, and more astonished still that Edith--"

"Papa, please don't say another word about Edith. She didn't want me to go, and I would do it."

"Why have you not told me all this before?"

"Because, you see, I couldn't. I had heard that you were going to be married, and I didn't believe it until you told me; at least--"

Cynthia paused and grew uncomfortably red.

"Poor child!" said Mrs. Franklin, smiling at her sympathetically. "It must have been very hard for you."

"It was," said Cynthia, simply; "only you know, mamma, I don't feel a bit so now. And then when you came home, papa, it was all so exciting I forgot about it, and I have only thought of it once in a while, and--well, I've been afraid to tell you," she added, honestly.

"I should think so! I am glad you have the grace to be ashamed of yourself, Cynthia. Has no apology gone to Aunt Betsey?"

"No, papa."

"It is outrageous. The only thing to do is to go there at once. Jack, get the _Pathfinder_."

The _Pathfinder_, boon of New England households, was brought, and Mr.

Franklin studied the trains for Wayborough.