LIBRARY (NIVERSITY OF CALEFORNff DAVIS 48p Clara lomsr ftttrnbam CLEVER BETSY. Illustrated. izmo, $1.25, **. Postage extra. FLUTTERFLY Illustrated. Square 12010, 75 cents. THE LEAVEN OF LOVE. With frontispiece in color. xzmo, $1.50. THE QUEST FLOWER Illustrated. Square izmo, $1.00. THE OPENED SHUTTERS. With frontispiece in color. 12010, ^1.50. JEWEL: A ChAPTER IN HER LIFE. Illustrated. izmo, $1.50. JEWEL'S STORY BOOK. Illustrated, izmo, $1.50. THE RIGHT PRINCESS, izmo, $1.50. MISS PRITCHARD'S WEDDING TRIP, izmo, $1.50. YOUNG MAIDS AND OLD. i6mo, $1.25 ; paper, 50 cents. DEARLY BOUGHT. i6mo, $1.2$; paper, 50 cents. NO GENTLEMEN. i6mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents. A SANE LUNATIC. i6mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents. NEXT DOOR. i6mo, $i.zs ; paper, 50 cents. THE MISTRESS OF BEECH KNOLL. i6mo,$i.2 5 ; paper, 50 cents. MISS BAGG'S SECRETARY. i6mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents. DR. LATIMER. i6mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents. SWEET CLOVER. A Romance of the White City. i6mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents. THE WISE WOMAN. i6mo, $i.zs; paper, 50 cents. MISS ARCHER ARCHER. i6mo, $i.z5. A GREAT LOVE. A Novel. i6mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents. A WEST POINT WOOING, and Other Stories. i6mo, #1.25. HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON AND NEW YORK CLEVER BETSY SHE SANK. INTO THE ARMS THAT CLASPED HER CLEVER BETSY A Novel by Clara Louise Burnham With Illustrations by Rose O'Neill BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY re$# Cambridge 1910 IffiLIV OF CALIFORNIA COPYRIGHT, igiO, BY CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Published September iqio CONTENTS I. OPENING THE COTTAGE . . . I II. MISTRESS AND MAID . . . 16 III. IRVING BRUCE . . . . . -27 IV. MRS. POGRAM CONFIDES ... 38 V. ROSALIE VINCENT . . . . -47 VI. THE LAST STAGE , ... 62 VII. THE NATIONAL PARK . . . -75 VIII. THE BLONDE HEAVER . . . 87 IX. THE FOUNTAIN HOUSE . . . 102 X. ON THE RIVERSIDE . , . . 117 XI. FACE TO FACE . , . . -131 XII. THE FAITHFUL GEYSER . . . 150 XIII. THE HEIRESS . . . . .160 XIV. THE LOOKOUT . . ;; . . . 176 XV. AN EXODUS . . . . . .189 XVI. BETSY'S GIFT . . ,.. "; . 202 XVII. SUNRISE ... . . . 217 XVIII. HOMEWARD BOUND .... 232 v Contents XIX. MRS. BRUCE'S HEADACHE . . 246 XX. BETSY'S APPEAL . . , . 258 XXI. A RAINY EVENING . . , . 270 XXII. THE WHITE DOVE . .... . 282 XXIII. THE DANCE . . . . .296 XXIV. THE CLASH . . : . , . ; 313 XXV. WHITE SWEET PEAS , * . . 327 XXVI. IN BETSY'S ROOM .. . . 338 XXVII. BETSY RECEIVES > . , . 355 XXVIII. GOOD-BY, SUMMER ,. , . - . 369 XXIX. THE NEW YEAR . 387 CLEVER BETSY CLEVER BETSY CHAPTER I OPENING THE COTTAGE "HELLO there!" The man with grizzled hair and bronzed face under a shabby yachting-cap stopped in his leisurely ramble up the street of a seaport village, and his eyes lighted at sight of a spare feminine figure, whose lean vigorous arms were shaking a long narrow rug at a cot tage gate. " Ahoy there The Clever Betsy ! " he went on. The energetic woman vouchsafed a sidewise twist of her mouth intended for a smile, but did not cease from her labors, and a cloud of dust met the hastened approach of the seaman. "Here, there's enough o' that! Don't you know your captain?" he went on, dodging the woolen fringe which snapped near his dark cheek. "My captain!" retorted the energetic one, while the rug billowed still more wildly. She was a woman of his own middle age, and the cloth tied around her head did not add to her Clever Betsy charms; but the man's eyes softened as they rested on her. "Here! You carry too much sail. Take a reef!" he cried; and deftly snatching the rug, in an instant it was trailing on the walk be hind him, while Betsy Foster stared, offended. u How long ye been here, Betsy?" "A couple o' days," replied the woman, ad justing the cheese-cloth covering more firmly behind her ears. "Why didn't ye let a feller know?" "Thought I wouldn't trouble trouble till trouble troubled me." The man smiled. "The Clever Betsy," he said musingly. They regarded one another for a silent moment. "Why ain't ye ever clever to me?" She sniffed. "Why don't ye fat up some ?" he asked again. "If I was as lazy as you are, probably I should," she returned, with the sidewise grim ace appearing again, and the breeze from the wide ocean a stone's throw away ruffling the sparse straight locks that escaped from her headdress. "Coin' to marry me this time, Betsy?" "No." Opening the Cottage "Why not?" "Same old reason." "But I tell ye," said the man, in half- humorous, half-earnest appeal, "I've told ye a dozen times I did n't know which I liked best then. If you'd happened to go home from singin'-school with me that night it would 'a' ben you." "And I say it ain't proper respect to Annie's memory for you to talk that way." "I ain't disrespectful. There never were two such nice girls in one village before. I nearly grew wall-eyed tryin' to look at you both at once. Annie and I were happy as clams for fifteen years. She's been gone five, and I've asked ye four separate times if you'd go down the hill o' life with me, and there ain't any sense in your refusin' and flappin' rugs in my face." "You know I don't like this sort o' foolin', Hiram. I wish you'd be done with it." "I ain't ever goin' to be done with it, Betsy, not while you live and I live." "Have some sense," she rejoined. "We both made our choice when we were young and we must abide by it both of us." "You didn't marry the Bruce family." 3 Clever Betsy " I did, too." Betsy Foster's eyes, suddenly reminiscent, did not suit in their expression the brusqueness of her tone. She saw again her young self, heart-sick with the disappointment of her girl ish fancy, leaving this little village for the city, and finding a haven with the bride who be came her friend as well as mistress. "I did, too," she repeated. "It was my sil ver weddin' only last week, when Mr. Irving had his twenty-fourth birthday." "Is Irving that old? Bless me! Then," hopefully, "if he's twenty-four he don't need to be tied to your apron-strings. Strikes me you're as much of a widow as I am a widower. There ain't many o' the Bruce family left for you to be married to. After Irving's mother died, I can see plain enough why you were a lot o' help to Mr. Bruce; but when he married again you did n't have any call to look after him any longer; and seein' he died about the same time poor Annie did, you Ve been free as air these five years. You don't need to pretend you think such an awful lot o' the widder Bruce, 'cause I know ye don't. Don't ye sup pose I remember how all your feathers stood on end when Mr. Bruce married her?" Opening the Cottage Betsy gave a fleeting glance over her shoul der toward the window of the cottage. "'T was n't natural that I should want to see anybody in Irving's mother's place, but she's- "I remember as if 'twas yesterday," inter rupted Hiram, "how you said 'twas Irving she married him for; how that she could never keep her fingers out of any pie, and she did n't like the hats Mr. Bruce bought for Irving, so she married him to choose 'em herself." Betsy's lips twitched in a short laugh. "Well, I guess there was somethin' in that," she answered. Hiram pursued what he considered his ad vantage. "When Irving was on the football team at college, you told me yourself, standin' right by this gate, that she 'd go to the game, and when she was n't faintin' because he was knocked out, she was hollerin' at him how to play." Betsy bridled. "Well, what's all this for?" she demanded. "It's to show you plain as the nose on your face that if you ever was married to the Bruce family you're a widder now; just as much as I'm a widower." Clever Betsy "No, sir, for better or for worse," returned Betsy doggedly. "Get out. They're dead, Mr. and Mrs. Bruce, both dead; and the widder Bruce no- thin' at all to you." " Stepmother to Mr. Irving," declared Betsy. "Well, he's used to it by this time. Had twelve years of it. Holy mackerel, that kid twenty-four! I can't realize it. His mo- ther- "No, no," said Betsy quickly. "Well, she anyway, Mrs. Bruce, went over to Europe to meet him last year, did n't she, when she took you?" "Of course she did. He went abroad when he left college, and do you suppose she could stand it not to be in part of his trip and tell him what to do?" "There now! It's plain how you feel toward that member o' the family." "But I told you, did n't I ? Can't you under stand English? I told you 'for better or for worse} "Go 'long, Betsy, go 'long! That husky football hero don't need you to fight his bat tles. If she presses him too hard, he'll get mar- 6 Opening the Cottage ried himself, I guess he's got a pretty solid place in the bank. When did you get back?" " A month ago." "Mrs. Bruce come down here with you?" Hiram's eyes as he asked the question left his companion's face for the first time, and roved toward the windows of the cottage retreating amid its greenery. As if his question had evoked the appari tion, a light-haired lady suddenly appeared in the open doorway. She was a woman of about forty-five years, but her blonde hair concealed its occasional silver threads, and her figure was girlishly slender. She regarded the couple for a moment through her gold eye-glasses, and then came down the steps and through the garden-path. " I thought I could n't be mistaken, Captain Salter," she said graciously, extending one hand, ringed and sparkling, and with the other protecting the waves of her carefully dressed hair from the boisterous breeze. The captain, continuing to trail the rug be hind him, touched his cap and allowed his rough fingers to be taken for a moment. "The Clever Betsy here was carrying too much sail," he explained. "I took 'em down." 7 Clever Betsy Mrs. Bruce laughed amiably. "And found you'd run into a squall, no doubt," she responded, observing her hand maid's reddened countenance. Mrs. Bruce's eyes could be best described as busy. There was nothing subtle about her glances. She made it quite evident that no thing escaped her, and the trim exactness of her dress and appearance seemed to match her observations. "It seems good to be back in Fairport," she went on. "One summer's absence is quite enough, though I plan to slip away just for a little while to take a look at the Yellowstone this year." "That so? Should think you'd had travelin' enough for one spell," rejoined Hiram. "Oh, it's an appetite that grows with what it feeds on, Captain Salter. I dare say you have been a rover, too. I know how all you sea-captains are." "No 'm. My line's ben fish, mostly." "And," added Mrs. Bruce, "taking care of us poor land-lubbers in summer. My son was well satisfied with your sale of his boat. I don't know whether he will get another this summer or not. You'll be here as usual, I hope?" 8 Opening the Cottage "Looks that way." "I'm glad. I'm positively attached to the Gentle Annie." "Haven't got her no more," returned Hiram quietly. "I've parted with her." "Oh, I'm sorry. I suppose the new one's better." "Well, she's just as good, anyway." " But if she 's not better, I don't see why you let the Annie go." "'Taint always in our power to hold on to things when we'd like to," responded Hiram equably. Mrs. Bruce's eyes shone with interest behind her bi-focals. "Poor man!" she thought. "How improvident these ignorant people are! Probably went into debt, and had to lose his boat, and calculated on doing enough business this summer to pay for the new one." "And what," she asked, with an air of gra cious patronage, "will you call this one? Gen tle Annie second, of course." He shook his head, his sea-blue eyes fixed intrepidly on the object of his affections, who regarded him threateningly. "Can't be any Annie second," he returned quietly. 9 Clever Betsy "Now I think you make a great mistake, Captain Salter," said Mrs. Bruce, with vigor. "For your own welfare I feel you ought to keep that name. The summer people have been attached to the Gentle Annie so long, and had such confidence in her." Hiram nodded; but Mrs. Bruce could not catch his fixed eye as she wished, to emphasize her point. "They were right," he answered. "She was a good craft." "Confidence in her and you too, I should have said, of course," went on the lady. "Yes, we sort o' went together, pretty com fortable; but well, I've lost her." "Yes, but there's a good-will goes with the name. You make a great mistake not to keep it. Captain Salter and the Gentle Annie; peo ple have said it so many years and had all their sails and their picnics and clambakes with you, it's like throwing away capital for you to take a new name for your boat. Now if you have n't already had it put on " "I have." Hiram's eyes were steady, and his lady-love was nervously fighting with the jealous wind for her cheese-cloth headdress, her face ap- 10 Opening the Cottage parently flushed by the effort, and her eyes defiant. "What have you named her?" asked Mrs. Bruce, in disapproval. "The Clever Betsy." " I don't like it, emphatically. It seems very strange, and it will to everybody." "Yes, at first," rejoined Hiram imperturb- ably, "but you can get used to anything. It used to be Captain Salter and the Gentle Annie; but in future it's goin' to be Captain Salter and the Clever Betsy; and after a while that's goin' to seem just as natural as the other." The speaker continued to rest his gaze on the narrow reddened countenance, which looked back furiously. Mrs. Bruce attributed his averted face to shyness, but the direction of his glance gave her an idea. "Well, I'm sure, Betsy, you should be pleased," she remarked. "One might think the boat was named for you." " Betsy was n't ever clever to me," said Hiram calmly. " She began spellin' me down at school here when we were children, and she's ben spellin' me down ever since." '11 Clever Betsy Mrs. Bruce looked curiously at the frown ing countenance of the capable woman who had meant so much in her husband's house hold. " Just like a snapdragon always," went on Hiram slowly; "touch her and she'd fly all to pieces; and I guess you put on the finishin' touch, takin' her to Europe, Mrs. Bruce. She's so toploftical to-day that she won't scarcely speak to me." "Betsy was a good traveler; I wouldn't ask a better," said Mrs. Bruce absently. The sub ject of the boat's name rankled. Her desire to coerce humanity for its own good was like a fire always laid and ready to be kindled, and Hiram had applied the match. " What do you think of the new name, Betsy? Don't you think your old friend would have done better to stick to the Gentle Annie?" " That 's exactly what I think," was the explosive response. "That's the only name that '11 ever be connected with Cap'n Salter in this world, and he'd better make the most of it. Hiram, if you're perishin' to wear a trail I '11 make you one out o' paper-cambric. Give me my rug. I want to go in the house." 12 Opening the Cottage Salter motioned toward the speaker with his head, then met Mrs. Bruce's eyes. " You heard?" he said. " That's what I say. Snappy, snappy." " I'm very sorry," said Mrs. Bruce impres sively, "that it's painted on. It's a bad idea and won't bring you luck." " Well now, we'll see," rejoined Hiram. "I feel just the other way round. I think it's a good idea and will bring me luck. Folks '11 be gin to say Cap'n Salter and the Clever Betsy, Cap'n Salter and the Clever Betsy, and first news you know there'll be " He paused. Lightnings would have shot from Betsy Foster's eyes had they been able to express all she felt; but the audacity of his look and manner conveyed a totally new idea to Mrs. Bruce. " I wish you 'd both come out with me this afternoon," he went on. "I'll show you just what a good, reliable, faithful craft I've got. A bit unsteady sometimes, mebbe, but that's only because she's smart and sassy; she always comes up to the mark in an emergency, and never goes back on her skipper. She's fast, too, and " "SailinM" interrupted Betsy, unable to 13 Clever Betsy endure another moment. " I guess if you saw the inside o' that cottage you would n't talk to me about sailin'. If you're so fond of pea- cockin' with that rug, I won't deprive you of it. You can leave it on the step when you get through." Mrs. Bruce's idea received confirmation by Betsy's manner and her precipitate departure up the garden-path, and she looked at Hiram Salter blankly. Betsy Foster was the prop of her household. She was the property of the Bruce family. Did this man suppose for one moment that just because they had gone to school together, he could remove her from her useful position? What a selfish, impossible thought! Of course the man was n't in love with Betsy. Nobody could be in love with such a severely plain creature; and yet that fancy of the new boat and the new name! It argued a plan of wooing which had some poetry in it. Here was an affair which Mrs. Bruce would certainly stop with a high hand if there were any real threat in it; but fortunately Betsy would consider it as unthinkable as she herself. If ever displeasure was writ large all over a woman it had been evident in Betsy Foster throughout the interview. Opening the Cottage After a short reflective silence during which, both hands behind him, her companion waved the rug in gentle ripples, and met her gaze with an undisturbed smile, she spoke. "Do take my advice still, Captain Salter," she said. " Wipe out the Clever Betsy and go back to the Gentle Annie." CHAPTER II MISTRESS AND MAID MRS. BRUCE remained with the captain at the gate for fifteen minutes longer before she re- entered the house. Hiram came as far as the door with her and laid the rug inside. He caught a glimpse of Betsy, stormily dusting and polishing in the living-room, but con tented himself with touching his cap to Mrs. Bruce, and disappearing down the garden path. That lady looked sharply at her factotum as she entered the room. Mankind loves a lover undoubtedly, as a rule; but there are excep tions. Mrs. Bruce decidedly did not love any body who proposed to deprive her of her right hand: cook, waitress, lady's maid, house keeper, either of which posts Betsy was cap able of filling in the defection of the regular incumbent. Betsy was a none-such, and Mrs. Bruce knew it sufficiently well to have swallowed her wrath on many previous occasions when 16 Mistress and Maid her strong will had collided with that of her handmaid. During her husband's lifetime Mrs. Bruce had discharged the New England woman several times in her most magnificent manner; but the ebullition had not been noticed by Betsy, who pursued the even tenor of her way as one who had more important matters to think of. Since Mr. Bruce's death his widow had not proceeded to such lengths, some intuition perhaps warning her that the spiritual cable which held the none-such to her service had lost its strongest strands and would not stand a strain. She looked at the faithful woman now with a new curiosity. Mankind loves a lover. Yes, of course; but Betsy could n't have a lover! The cheese-cloth binding the hair away from the high sallow forehead, taken in connection with the prominent thin nose and retreating chin, presented the class of profile which ex plains the curious human semblance taken on by a walnut when similarly coiffed. No that designing sailor was tired of living alone. He wanted a housekeeper and a cook. How did he dare! Quite a blaze of indignation mounted in the breast of Betsy's fortunate owner. What a blessed thing that Betsy was 17 Clever Betsy the sort of woman who could see into a mill stone and could be trusted to flout her deceit ful wooer to the end. Mrs. Bruce spoke with gracious playfulness. "You never told me Captain Salter was a beau of yours, Betsy." The other did not cease to beat up the cush ions of the wicker chairs. "I don't know as I ever did take the time to reg'larly sit down and give you my history, Mrs. Bruce," was the reply. And that lady took a few moments to reflect upon the spirit of the crisp words, finally de ciding to veer away from the subject. "Now what can I do to help you, Betsy? I know -you want everything spick and span before that cook comes to-morrow." Betsy looked up. "I've laid the silver out there on the dining- room table. You might clean it. Here, let me put this apron on you." And abruptly aban doning the cushions, the speaker hurried into the dining-room, divided from the living- room only by an imaginary line, and seizing an enveloping gingham apron, concealed Mrs. Bruce's trim China silk from head to foot. The mistress sat down at the table and 18 Mistress and Maid opened the silver-polish, and Betsy returned to her work. "I've been asking Captain Salter about the neighbors, and especially about my little protegee." "Which one? Oh, you mean Mrs. Pogram's girl!" "Yes, Rosalie Vincent. With that name and her pretty face and graceful figure, it did seem too bad that she should n't have her chance. I remember, though, you did n't alto gether approve of my sending her away from washing Mrs. Pogram's dishes." "Washin' Mrs. Pogram's dishes was real safe," returned Betsy. "Rosalie was pretty, and poor, and young; and that's a combina tion that had better stay right in the home village under some good woman's wing. Mrs. Pogram 's a clever soul, though some like putty. If she had n't been, she would n't have spared Rosalie, I s'pose." "Qh, it was n't for long," replied Mrs. Bruce. "I thought it only fair that the child should have one season's course in English, with such a yearning as she had after poetry and all things poetical. Such a doom as it seemed to be to peel Mrs. Pogram's vegetables 19 Clever Betsy and wash her dishes. I can always discern an artist," added Mrs. Bruce complacently, " even in the most unlikely places; and that girl had a touch of the divine fire. I recognized it that day when she recited the bit of Brown ing up here." Betsy's eyes happening to fall on the silver- polish, she remarked dryly. "Well, whitin' 's safer than Brow r nin' for her sort, and I thought she was contented enough." Betsy's two-year-old disapproval of this one of her mistress's undertakings revived. Edu cation was a good thing, without doubt, but according to Betsy's judgment it was best, under circumstances of such dependence as existed with Mrs. Pogram's pretty adopted child, to let well enough alone. Mrs. Pogram's principal motive in giving the girl a home had been the material help she could render, and it was a doubtful experiment to send her to the new environment of the city, and the novel companionship of her fellow students, unless her benefactress intended to prolong her watch over the young girl's fortunes; and this Betsy knew would not be the case; for long before Rosalie's term of study was ended, 20 Mistress and Maid Mrs. Bruce's energies would be directed toward superintending the affairs of somebody else. The girl's grateful letters had begun to be ignored some time before Mrs. Bruce joined her adored boy in Europe; and it is doubt ful when she would have thought again of Rosalie Vincent, had she not returned to the village where the young girl had attracted her fleeting fancy. "I gave her the wings to soar," she now added virtuously, "and I inquired of Captain Salter if she had used them. I found his report quite unsatisfactory." "Why, where is Rosalie?" asked Betsy quickly, stopping her labors in the interest of her query. "Captain Salter wasn't sure. He said he supposed Mrs. Pogram knew, but there had been some recent quarrel with a brother of Mrs. Pogram's and it had ended in Rosalie's going away." "Soarin', perhaps," remarked Betsy dryly, grasping the legs of an unoffending table and giving it vicious tweaks with the dust-cloth. "Just as well folks should n't be given wings sometimes, in my opinion. When a bird's got plumage like Rosalie's, it'd better stick to the 21 Clever Betsy long grass. The world's just full o' folks that if they catch sight o' the brightness never rest till they get a shot at it and drag it down." "Was she so pretty? Let's see, was she dark or light? Oh, I remember her hair was blonde." Betsy gave one look at her employer. It was entirely characteristic that two years should have sunk the village girl's memory in a haze. Mrs. Bruce sighed and began to polish an other fork, "It seldom pays to try to help people," she said. "I distinctly remember the girl had talent, and I thought she might get a position in one of the Portland schools if she had a little training and applied herself." "Her letters to you certainly sounded as if she was workin' her best." "Did they?" vaguely. "Perhaps they did. Well, very likely she has gone to take a posi tion then." " Not in summer time, I guess," remarked Betsy. "I don't seem to remember any brother of Mrs. Pogram's," said Mrs. Bruce plaintively. "Humph! You've probably bought rib bons of him lots o' times. He sells 'em up in 22 Mistress and Maid Portland, and I'll bet it's a strain on him every time he measures off over thirty-five and a half inches for a yard. Brown's his name. Loomis Brown; and it would seem more fittin' if 't was Lucy. Such a hen-betty I never saw in all my days. I wonder if it's possible he took to shinin' up to Rosalie." " Oh, he's a bachelor?" "Law, yes. He would n't want to pay for a marriage license, but p'raps he took such a shine to Rosalie as she grew older that it spurred him on to the extravagance. No tellin'. If that's the case, no wonder she took wings." " It's very tiresome," said Mrs. Bruce, " the way girls will marry after one has done one's best for them." "Yes, Mrs. Bruce. The next time you take a fancy to a village girl, you give her a course in cookin' instead of English. She can jaw her husband all right without any teachin'; but it takes trainin' to make good bread." Mrs. Bruce sighed leniently. "That is your point of view, naturally," she said. "You could hardly be expected to have that divin ing rod which recognizes the artistic. Strange how much better I remember that girl's gift 23 Clever Betsy and her unstudied gestures than I do her face." Betsy paused long enough in her undertak ings to pull up the bib of her mistress's apron, which had slipped, endangering the pretty silk gown. There was a permanent line in Betsy's forehead, which might have been named "Mrs. Bruce the second"; but she fastened the apron as carefully now as she did all things pertaining to that lady's welfare, and made no reply to the reflection upon her aesthetic capabilities. Betsy would not have known the meaning of the word aesthetic, but she would have declared unhesitatingly that if it characterized Mrs. Bruce she was willing not to have it describe herself. Not that she had a dislike of her mistress. She took her as she found her. Mr. Bruce had been at tached to her, and Betsy's duty was to the bearer of his name. She seldom contended with her mistress, nor had any argument. She said to herself simply that it was hard to teach an old dog new tricks ; and while it might seem a trifle rough to mention an old dog in con nection with a lady of Mrs. Bruce's attrac tive appearance, the sense of the axiom was extremely applicable, since Mrs. Bruce could 24 Mistress and Maid become no more set in all essentials if she lived to be a hundred. Betsy very rightly realizing that avoidable discord was foolishness, lived her philosophy, and contented herself with mental reservations which would have astonished her complacent mistress mightily, On the evening, twelve years ago, when Mr. Bruce announced to his housekeeper his impending marriage, she shouldered this cross resolutely. He had been a man of few words, and on this occasion he said simply to the woman who had seen his happiness with the bride of his youth, "I find myself very lonely, Betsy. I am going to marry Miss Flushing." " Very well, sir," she replied quietly, though her heart leaped to her throat and her thoughts flew to the twelve-year-old boy who was then at home on his vacation. "Have you told Mr. Irving, sir?" She remembered the father's face as he replied, "Yes. That boy, Betsy, is a manly little chap. Miss Flushing is devoted to him and has gained his affection already; but it was a blow to him. I saw it. A surprise, a great surprise." 25 Clever Betsy Betsy remembered to this day how she bit her tongue to keep it from speaking. "He talked to me though," the father had continued, "more like one man to another than like a child; but after being very civil about it, he announced that I must n't expect him to call her mother, because he should not be able to." Betsy had nodded. "Mr. Irving had a mother out of the ordinary, Mr. Bruce," she replied very quietly, but with the hot blood pressing in her head; then she went up deco rously to her room, closed the door, and in dulged in one storm of weeping; after which she shouldered the cross above mentioned, which like all crosses heartily borne, lightened as the years went on. One thing was certain. Greater devotion was never displayed by a stepmother; and if Irving Bruce had mental reservations, too, he did not divulge them to the faithful woman who was part of his earliest remembrance. CHAPTER III IRVING BRUCE MRS. BRUCE had retired from her labors, but a vigorous cleansing process was still going on in the cottage, when a man's footsteps again sounded on the garden-path. Some one set a suit-case down on the porch, and then ap peared in the doorway for a moment of in spection. Betsy started at sight of the tall, gray-clad apparition. "Mr. Irving!" she ejaculated, and the transfiguring expression which crossed her face gave the key at once to her loyalty. "Go 'way from here, we ain't a bit ready for you!" she said severely. He strode forward and gently shook the speaker's angular shoulders instead of her busy hands. "Great that I could get here so soon," he returned, continuing to rest his hands on her shoulders, while she looked up into the eyes set generously apart under level brows. 27 Clever Betsy "He ain't any job lot," she thought for the hundredth time, "he 's a masterpiece." But all the time she was trying to frown. "We ain't ready for you," she repeated. "The cook has n't come." "Bully!" ejaculated the unwelcome one. "It's the aim of my existence to catch you where there is n't any cook. Are the mackerel running?" "You'll have to ask Cap'n Salter or some other lazy coot about that. Mackerel run ning! Humph! My own running has been all I could attend to the last two days. Mrs. Pogram 's supposed to look after the cottage air it and so on; but she always was slower 'n molasses and I s'pose she don't get any younger nor spryer as the years go on. I've found mildew, yes, I have, mildew, in a number o' places." The young man smiled, dropped his hands, and sauntered to a window overlooking the tumbling blue. "She has what's-her-name there, that girl she adopted," he responded carelessly. "Why does n't she shift such duties upon her?" "Oh, you remember Rosalie, do you?" asked Betsy dryly, as she resumed her work. 28 Irving Bruce "To be sure. That was her name. Pretty name. Pretty girl. A real village beauty," "Yes," said Betsy. "You very likely re member Mrs. Bruce took a lot of interest in her. Had her here to speak poetry one day." "Oh, I remember her very well," returned the young man. "I don't recall the poetry though. So that was her forte. Apt to inter fere with opening up and airing out other people's cottages, I suppose." ''Yes, if it's encouraged. Hers was encour- aged." Betsy's lips snapped together and her tone caused her companion to glance around at her over his shoulder. "Mildew sort of got on your nerves, Betsy? " he asked, amused. "Don't worry. There's a free-for-all chemistry here that will fix it up in no time. Drop that duster and come and look at the ocean. It will steady you." "Steady me!" Betsy gave a derisive grunt. "Tell that to the marines. I've had expe rience of its steadiness the last month, have n't I?" Irving laughed at certain memories of his companion's walnut profile, with lips pursed in the throes of endurance. 29 Clever Betsy "You aren't a star sailor, are you?" he returned. "I learned the meanin' o' one phrase o' Scripture; learned it for life. 'Unstable as water.' It fits some folks just splendid and you could n't say anything worse about 'em. My! will I ever forget try in' to wait on Mrs. Bruce and fix my hair in that stateroom! Never got my arms up that there did n't come a lurch and knock my elbow against the wood work fit to break the skin." "You ought to be better upholstered, Betsy," said Irving. "And varnish!" she continued, with remi niscent loathing. "Shall I ever be able to use varnish again!" "Joy!" exclaimed Irving. "Then I'm not in any danger of being shellacked! I never felt certain in childhood's happy hour that keeping me surgically clean would wholly sat isfy you." "No, sir," said Betsy warmly, "the ocean won't get me to look at it this summer. All diamonds, and blue sparkles, and white feathers, just as if butter would n't melt in its mouth; then when it gets you in its clutches, bangs you around from pillar to post and 30 Irving Bruce nearly blows the hair off your head. I know its tricks now. It'll never deceive me again." Irving smiled out at the maligned billows. "Looks pretty good to me," he returned. "Wonder what I shall do about a boat. Has Mrs. Bruce said any more about the Yellow stone?" "Yes, spoke of it this mornin' to Cap'n Salter." "Oh, has she been out with Hiram already?" "No, he was lally-gaggin' around here for a while." "How is old Hiram?" The question was affectionate. Betsy pushed an upturned rug under a table-leg. "Oh, about as usual, I guess. Gets more like himself every year, same as we all do." "Well, he could n't do better. He's a good sort." Irving smiled at some memory. "I must have made that man's life a burden. What a lot of patience he had! But when the end was reached, I can feel that hand of his come down on me, big as a ham, and toss me away as if I'd been a cunner he was throwing back. Mrs. Salter, too. Talk about salt of the earth! I suppose that must have been a stock Clever Betsy Fairport pun during her life. Many a time she begged me off. The gentle Annie! I should think so. Let's see. How long has she been gone?" "Five years." "And the captain has never taken notice since, has he?" "Don't ask me" was the curt response; and a table was whisked completely around with a celerity which must have given it vertigo. "Betsy! Betsy!" It was a cautious call which came quietly from the invisible. Betsy straightened herself and moved to ward it, and the silent moment was followed by the swift entrance of Mrs. Bruce. "My dear boy!" she exclaimed, aggrieved. "I thought I heard a man's voice. How long have you been here ? Betsy, why did n't you tell me! " The young man's eyes were kind as he turned and came to meet the speaker, and his manner seemed very quiet in contrast to her alert, fussy personality and the froufrou of her taffetas. "Good-morning, Madama," he said, return ing her nervous embrace lightly. "IVe asked Betsy so many questions since I broke in here, that she could n't in civility leave me." 32 Irving Bruce Betsy returned to her labors, deaf to her mistress's remarks. She knew that Mrs. Bruce had a chronic objection to her having a tete- a-tete, however short, with Irving, It was as if the widow were jealous of the twelve years' advantage which her maid had over her; and notwithstanding Betsy's humble position, her mistress constantly imagined that they re ferred, when together, to events which she had not shared, and spoke on subjects which would be dropped upon her appearance. The newcomer slipped her hand through the young man's arm, and moved with him as he returned to the window. "Why did n't you telegraph? How did you happen to come so soon?" "Oh, I just saw that the bank was run by a lot of egoists who supposed that they could manage it without me, just as they have for thirty years, so I thought I would make the most of this last summer of their self-satis faction, and take all that was coming to me, before I get into the harness." "Very wise; and I hope when you do get into harness you'll never make such a slave of yourself as your dear father did." "You never can tell. I rather dread my 33 Clever Betsy own proclivities. If I should ever work as hard as I've played, the business world is going to be jarred when I leap into it." Mrs. Bruce hung fondly on his arm, rejoic ing in the hard muscle she felt through his light sleeve. "Well," she said, "I'm glad you could come. There is such a wonderful feeling of freedom in this restful spot. Sometimes," pensively, "I think the greatest blessing we have in life is personal freedom. I suffocate without it, and it is astonishing how difficult it is to get, in the ordinary affairs of life." Then, with sudden attention, "What makes you wear that tie with that suit? I don't like it at all, anyway. That is n't one that I gave you." The young man's hand mechanically sought his throat. "No, Madama," he admitted, still looking absently from the window. "I should think, Irving, as many neckties as I pick out for you, you might wear one of them when you're going to be with me." "But I can't bear to wear your neckties," he returned gently, "they're so decorative in my room. To tie them all up and bury them under a collar and vest would be a shame. I 34 Irving Bruce hang them on my tie-rack, where they can be admired morning, noon, and night. You know I keep trying to curb your extravagance in that line. You'll impoverish yourself so that you can't wear silk stockings if you go on like this. Every few days a new tie to go on the rack." "Nonsense," returned Mrs. Bruce curtly. "If I did n't have such good taste, of course I should n't venture to buy ties for a man; but even as a girl I was considered to have the most perfect taste. I was famous for it, and I 'm sure, Irving, I've tried to instill it into you." "You have, Madama," he returned sooth ingly, "and I think I'm a credit to you. Now come, I'm prepared to maintain that I've caught the infection, and that my taste is perfect, too." He stifled a yawn. "To prove it, I'll throw down the bone of contention, collar and all, and get into a sweater. I'm going to hunt up Hiram before lunch and swap lies for a spell." So speaking the young man stepped out on the porch, picked up his suit-case, and walked through the spreading cottage until he came to his room, where Betsy was whisking things into readiness for his occupancy. 35 Clever Betsy "There! Do you smell?" she asked, sniffing disapprovingly; "just like a cellar ?" "No/ 5 he returned plaintively, "I don't think I do: 9 "I didn't say do you; I say, don't it" snapped Betsy, in no mood for badinage. "If you had n't come so soon, I 'd have had it aired out. I'd like to shake Mrs. Pogram till her teeth chatter." Irving set down his suit-case. "As I remember, Mrs. Pogram's teeth are n't calculated to chatter. They don't what is the technical term now?" Betsy grunted. "I do feel ashamed to have you come into such a comfortless place, Mr. Irving." "I'd rather be here, Betsy, even if I have to wear a clothes-pin on my nose while un making my toilet. I can sleep on the porch, you know. You think eh, Betsy, you think there's no use trying to side-step the Yellow stone?" "We're as good as there," returned Betsy sententiously. "Mrs. Bruce says that when once you get into that bank, she might as well count on the wind that blows as you taking a vacation at any stated time; and 36 ' Irving Bruce you know it's got to be a stated time for the Yellowstone." Irving sighed. "I hope we know our place, Betsy," he re turned. CHAPTER IV MRS. POGRAM CONFIDES HALF an hour afterward Mrs. Pogram, un conscious of Miss Foster's yearning to admin ister to her portly person a vigorous movement cure, walked leisurely up the village street. From one hand depended a long slender pack age which she held away from her black shawl by a string loop around her forefinger. A merry whistling attracted her, and she perceived coming along the walk, at a swing ing gait, a bareheaded young man in a sweater. In a few days the streets of the vil lage would be largely populated by girls and men, all with an aversion to hats and sleeves. Mrs. Pogram was familiar with the type, and noted that this care-free person was an advance guard proving that the summer was here. She eyed him, however, with lack-lustre eyes until he stopped suddenly before her. "You don't know me," he said, taking his hands out of his pockets. The corners of Mrs. Pogram's lips drew down and her chin drew in. 38 Mrs. Pogram Confides "Why, Irvin' Bruce, it's you!" she declared. "We haven't seen you in these parts for so long I did n't know but you'd given up Fairport." "Couldn't do that, Mrs. Pogram. You know how a man always returns to the scene of his crimes." Mrs. Pogram again drew down the corners of her mouth and gave her gingerly-held pack age a shake. "This pesky fish never will be done drip- pin'," she remarked. "Been fishing?" asked her companion. "Yes. I go fishin' on the wharf. It's cheaper than to the market and the walk does me good." "You look well." "I ain't well. It's kind o' hard for me to get around, and I miss Rosalie. She's gone off." Mrs. Pogram's voice took a whining note, and she indulged in a sniff of self-pity. "I donno as you ever saw Rosalie?" "Oh yes, I've seen her." "The way I come to take her, I was gettin' along in years and she was left alone in the world. She wanted a home and I wanted young hands and feet, so we'd 'a' got along real comfortable if it had n't been for Loomis; and 39 Clever Betsy I've been more like a mother than a sister to Loomis, bein 3 so much older, and I do think he might have let me have a little comfort without naggin' me all the time." "Has he left Portland and come here to live with you?" "Oh no, he's still in Chatham's store, but he can run down over Sunday any time, you know, and ever since Rosalie came he's done so a great deal." "What could you expect?" returned Irving. "I remember her." "Hey? Oh, yes, Loomis was awful pleased with her at first, but she did n't seem to take much of a fancy to him. Kinder laughed at him. Loomis is sort o' fussy. Anyway, she made him mad one day, and from that on he did n't give me any peace." Mrs. Pogram sniffed again and gave her lachrymose package another shake so that its tears bedewed the walk as if she were weeping vicariously. "He made you send the girl away?" asked Irving quickly, a line coming in his forehead at the remembrance of the mincing young clerk who had been the natural victim of many a prank of his own boyhood. 40 Mrs. Pogram Confides "Not made me, exactly," returned Mrs. Pogram, "but Rosalie got so she wouldn't stand it any longer. You see," her complain ing tone altering to one of some complacence, "though I ain't any millionairess, my estate ain't exactly to be sneezed at. The old Pogram mahogany and the silver that was my mother's are worth considerable; and Loomis was on pins for fear I'd give some of 'em to Rosalie. I give her a spoon once it was real thin, Irving not worth much of anything in money, but it was a time when Rosalie 'd taken care of me through a fever and I felt to give her somethin'; and law, from the way Loomis took on you 'd 'a' thought I 'd made him a poor man for the rest of his life. Honestly I was ashamed of him; and I kep' his actions away from Rosalie as much as I could; but she's smart, and she saw she'd gained Loomis's enmity by laughin' at him, and saw that he was gettin' kinder jealous of her about the things; and if she would only have been quiet, and spoken him fair, and we both kept our own counsel, I could have slipped many a little thing to her and he'd never 'a' known the difference. Things were n't ever the same after your mother gave her that winter at Clever Betsy Lambeth. She never laughed at Loomis till after that, and then came my sickness and I gave her the spoon, and from that time there wa'n't ever any peace." The line in Irving's forehead came again. "Then you don't think Mrs. Bruce's gift to Rosalie was an advantage." "Well, I was willin' to spare her for her own good, for I could see what her longings were, and felt I had n't ought to stand in her way. Loomis favored it because I think 't was his idea then that he and Rosalie would both come into the Brown-Pogram estate one o' these days." Irving lifted a hand to conceal some ebul lition which escaped him at the thought of the ramshackle ancestral halls of the Pograms. "As I say," continued Mrs. Pogram, "if Rosalie could have worked with me we'd ha' kep' Loomis smoothed down; but after the spoon trouble that young one acted like all possessed. Every time Loomis came she'd throw out remarks to scare him. 'Oh, Auntie Pogram,' she'd say, 'just look how exactly the right height this work-table is for me to set by. It's the real stuff this wood is;' and then she'd gaze at it kinder thoughtful. 'If 42 Mrs. Pogram Confides this was polished up, that grain would come out beautiful.' Then there is a silver slop- bowl and creamer that was my mother's. 'Oh, Auntie Pogram,' she'd say, and just clasp her hands and gaze at 'em like they was magnets and she a needle. 'How easy it is, after all, to tell the real antiquities from the made-up ones,' she'd say. 'How I do love that colonial pattern!' And all the time Loomis would fidget and run his fingers through his hair and get red in the face. After he'd go I'd talk to her, but she would n't do a thing but laugh till the tears come in her eyes." Mrs. Pogram nodded significantly. "But the day came when there was more tears and not so much laugh. Loomis got so he come down every Saturday night. He made a list of all the silver and he'd count 'em out, forks and spoons, every time he came. One Sunday night he said something real down right mean to Rosalie about beggars not bein' choosers. I spoke up for the girl then and there. I said Rosalie had earned everything she'd had from me and earned it fully. I can see her now standin' there, and the way her nostrils opened when she breathed. I don't think I ever saw her as good-lookin' as she 43 Clever Betsy was that minute. Her light hair was just fluffin 5 out like a cloud, and her blue eyes turned nearly black, and her lips was bit in between her teeth till she scared me the way she looked at Loomis. Then she went out o' the room without a word. The next mornin' she did n't get up at half-past four to get Loomis's breakfast, the way she had to when he stayed Sunday nights. I had n't thought she would, and I got up in my double-gown and found him drinkin' some cold milk, and growlin'. Loomis likes his coffee. I told him 't was his own fault, and he told me to go to bed and stay there, 't was all I was fit for." Mrs. Pogram sniffed again and shook the fish mechanically. "I did n't hear any sound in Rosalie's room when Loomis slammed the front door; so after a spell I went in to find her and try to make peace, but " the speaker shook her head "there waVt any Rosalie. Her bed was made up neat and there was a note on her table. 'I love you, dear Auntie Pogram, but I can't stand it any longer. Don't worry about me. If I'm in any trouble I promise to write to you.' " Here, the fish not seeming equal to the oc- 44 Mrs. Pogram Confides casion, Mrs. Pogram dabbed some tears from her own eyes. "How long ago was this?" asked Irving. "Only a few weeks, and I have n't heard another word," "Your brother is satisfied, I suppose?" "Well, he ain't real comfortable, 'cause he knows I don't mean to live and work all alone. I ain't fit to; and he's afraid now I'll pay wages that'll be a tax on the es tate." Irving muttered something under his breath. "Hey?" inquired his companion plain tively, "I'm sorry for all this, Mrs. Pogram. You must tell Betsy about it. Her head is full of sensible ideas. Perhaps she can help you." "I'd like to see her," returned the other mournfully. "How are you all?" "All well." "You've been to Europe. Now I s'pose you'Jl settle down a spell." "Alas, Mrs. Bruce decrees otherwise. We're off for the Yellowstone as soon as we can un pack and pack again." "I hear it's real sightly out there," re turned Mrs. Pogram, without enthusiasm. 45 Clever Betsy "I'll have to tell Betsy to get some one else to look after the cottage, though; I ain't fit to hist mattresses." Another sniff. "Good- mornin', Irvin', I'm real glap I met you. Re member me to the folks." CHAPTER V ROSALIE VINCENT A THRONG of pilgrims to the Yellowstone was emptying out of the cars upon the platform at Gardiner. The spectacular six-horse coaches were in waiting, and the customary competi tion and struggle for the outside seats began. Mrs. Bruce was wild-eyed in her determina tion to sit near the driver, and Irving turned to Betsy, who spoke promptly: "Never mind me, Mr. Irving. Just go up top with Mrs. Bruce. I'll go inside." Which plan was accordingly carried out; and Mrs. Bruce was ensconced to her satis faction where she could ask questions alter nately of the driver and her son. The jingling, gay teams started, and wound up the ascending road under a vast sky above the encircling hills and mountains. As they passed the Eagle's Nest Mrs. Bruce had her first qualm as to Betsy. Upon being told that the high-placed bundle of sticks perched on a cliff was indeed the domicile of the king of birds, she exclaimed: 47 Clever Betsy "Oh, Irving, couldn't you stoop over and call down to Betsy to put her head out? That is such a purely American sight, and Betsy is so American!" But Irving, objecting to this contortion, diverted his companion's attention. As for Betsy, she preferred the seclusion from the sight of the six horses so dexterously tooled along the road, and felt that she saw all the scenery she cared for despite the roof of the stage. Miss Foster must have had an excellent conscience ; she always accepted with such contentment her own society. There was a chatter of voices in her ears from the other occupants of the stage, but her eyes rested absently on hillside and waterfall while she thought of Fairport and the de serted cottage whose condition was still far from satisfying her. Her thoughts roved, too, as they often did, to Rosalie Vincent. What was the girl doing, out in the world unpro tected? It seemed but a short time to Betsy before the coach swung around the circle in front of the Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel, and the passengers poured from the vehicle, watched by other crowds on the hotel piazza, who half Rosalie Vincent resented the arrival of newcomers, for at this season food and beds were at a premium. Irving had looked out for the comfort of his party, and Mrs. Bruce's room satisfied her. They spent the day in the customary visits to beautiful terraces of heavenly tints built by boiling-hot scanty waterfalls, and at night laid them down to slumber well contented. In a remote room of the hotel a young girl, after her evening's experience of standing upon her feet long hours, waiting upon hun gry hordes of sightseers, was hastening to get ready for her night's rest, when the handle of her door was turned, and then as if some one outside was impatient of its resistance, it was shaken with energy. The half-disrobed occupant of the room ran to hold the door. "Who 's there?" she demanded. A sharp girlish voice replied imperatively, "It's me! Open the door quick!" "You've made a mistake in the room," returned the girl inside. "This is mine." "Is it, indeed!" shrilly. "Well, I guess if you don't open this door pretty quick, I'll have you sent flying!" At which threat in the sharp voice, the girl 49 Clever Betsy inside opened the door, and viewed in aston ishment the stormy-eyed young person who entered, beginning to pull out hairpins from her lofty pompadour as she came. "What did you think you were? A lay-over?" she de manded scornfully. The other girl, her fair hair falling in ripples about her bare neck and arms, closed the door and regarded the newcomer with wide eyes. ".Is it your room, too?" she asked. ""Yes, it is," snapped the other, "and I hope it won't be any more disagreeable for you than it is for me." "Oh oh of course not," returned the fair one. " I only thought it was so small and the bed is so narrow and I did n't know " "Well," returned the other, somewhat molli fied, and with a yawn, "I saw down in the dining-room to-night that you were a green horn. We 're mighty lucky not to be in a bigger room with half-a-dozen girls. My name's Miss Hickey. What's yours?" "Rosalie Vincent," responded the fair one, still standing rooted to her place while Miss Hickey removed a mammoth rat from her hair, and eclipsed with it one side of the wash- stand, which was dresser as well. 50 Rosalie Vincent "Better get to bed, Miss Vincent. You'll have plenty of chances to stare at me, and you look as tired as I feel. I stayed down to help the pearl-divers awhile to-night." "Pearl-divers?" echoed Rosalie. "Yes. Dish-washers, Greenie. I 'ma heaver like yourself; but we all have to turn in and help each other, once in a while. This is my third season. My first I waited on the sage- brushers." "Who are they?" asked Rosalie, overawed by so much sophistication. "Campers; but I like the hotels best. The dudes are more my style." "What did you call me a few minutes ago? A lay-over?" asked Rosalie. "Yes, those are the swells that stay more than one night. They're the princes of the Yellowstone and they have to pay like princes, too. All their dishes washed separately, sepa rate food, separate everything. I thought you must think you were one to have a room all to yourself." Miss Hickey here completed her hasty night-toilet and jumped into bed. "Come along, child. I'll make myself small against the wall." Clever Betsy "Indeed, I'm not a lay-over," said Rosalie, now hastening to follow the other's example. " I 'm to be sent on with the crowd to-morrow." "So am I," returned the other, with nasal sleepiness;