Letty and the Twins

  Produced by Roger Frank and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  “I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT LIKE SOME CHOCOLATES”]

  LETTY AND THE TWINS

  BY

  Helen Sherman Griffith

  AUTHOR OF “LETTY OF THE CIRCUS” “LETTY’S NEW HOME” “LETTY’S SISTER” “LETTY’S TREASURE” “LETTY AT THE CONSERVATORY” “LETTY’S SPRINGTIME” “LETTY AND MISS GREY”

  ILLUSTRATED BY FRANCES D. JONES

  THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY

  PHILADELPHIA MCMXVII

  COPYRIGHT 1910 BY THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY

  CONTENTS I—ARRIVING AT THE FARM II—SUNNYCREST III—A SPRAINED ANKLE IV—GREEN APPLES V—THE CIRCUS VI—LETTY VII—MRS. HARTWELL-JONES SEES PART OF THE CIRCUS VIII—JANE’S IDEA IX—HAPPY DAYS X—THISTLEDOWN XI—CHRISTOPHER GOES FOR THE MAIL XII—LETTY SINGS A LULLABY XIII—THE TULIP’S DREAM XIV—WHERE IS CHRISTOPHER? XV—LETTY’S FUTURE XVI—UNTYING THE APRON-STRINGS XVII—GOOD NEWS XVIII—A CABLEGRAM XIX—SYMPTOMS OF MEASLES XX—OLD SCENES AGAIN XXI—CONCLUSION

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  “I thought you might like some chocolates” They giggled at everything the clown said Under a large tree in the garden “Don’t you worry, little girl” “Now look up at me”

  INTRODUCTION

  Those who have read “Letty of the Circus” will remember that Letty Greywas a little city girl whose brother was a member of a troupe ofacrobats. When it became necessary to help her mother who was ill Lettyherself became a member of the troupe and joined them in theirperformances at a summer resort. One day she bravely saved the lives oftwo little children, Jane and Christopher, who were threatened by anangry bear. This was the beginning of a warm friendship which is seenripening in the present book. Letty leaves the circus and finds a newmother, and her sunny nature wins for her many friends. Something moreabout her will be found in “Letty’s New Home,” “Letty’s Sister,”“Letty’s Treasure,” “Letty’s Good Luck,” “Letty at the Conservatory,”“Letty’s Springtime” and “Letty and Miss Grey.”

  LETTY AND THE TWINS

  CHAPTER I

  ARRIVING AT THE FARM

  “Oh, Kit, isn’t it just fun!” cried Jane, her rosy, chubby face beaming.“How fast we are going!”

  “Ho,” exclaimed Christopher, “it’s not so fast. Not so awfully fast, isit, grandfather? I’d like to go about sixty miles an hour. That would begoing for you.”

  “Oh, Kit!” breathed Jane in mingled awe and admiration.

  Jane and Christopher—or Kit as he was generally called to distinguishhim from his father, whose name also was Christopher—were twins, and sofar along the course of their short lives had shared everything, frompeppermint drops to ideas. The stern fact that Christopher was a boy andJane a girl was just beginning faintly to dawn upon them—a statedemonstrated by Jane’s unqualified admiration of everything her brothersaid and did, and by his occasional condescension of manner toward her.

  Jane leaned back in her parlor car seat hugging her doll—a wonderful newone with flaxen hair turned up with a comb and dressed “like alady”—quite content with the rate at which the train was speedingthrough the green fields and villages; while Christopher bobbed aboutfrom seat to seat, trying the view from each side of the train in turnand wishing he could look out on both sides at once.

  There were very few passengers in the parlor car, for it was early inthe season for summer visitors to go to the country. Besides the twinsand their grandparents there were only three other passengers: twogentlemen who were very busy talking and paid no attention to any oneelse, and a sweet-faced lady with gray hair who sat at the other end ofthe car and who watched the children with great interest. She looked asif she would like to make friends with them.

  After a while she took a candy box out of her satchel and catching thetwins’ eyes, beckoned to them, holding out the open box. Christopher wasfor bolting down the car aisle at once, but Jane caught him back andwhispered something to her grandmother, who looked up from her book,exchanged smiles with the sweet-faced stranger, bowed and said “yes” toJane.

  “I thought you might like some chocolates,” said the lady as thechildren approached. “Won’t you sit down there opposite me?”

  “Thank you,” said Jane politely, and the twins tucked themselves side byside into the big chair. The lady’s sweet, interested manner and thechocolates quickly put matters upon a friendly footing, and in twominutes the children were prattling away as if they had known Mrs.Hartwell-Jones (for that, she told them, was her name, watching out ofthe corner of her eye as she pronounced it to see if it sounded familiarto them) as if they had known her all their lives. Their own names, ageand family history were soon told.

  “Our mother and father have gone to Europe for four months,” announcedChristopher importantly. “Father had to go on business and mother wantedto go with him and so——”

  “She did not want to go, Kit,” corrected Jane. “The doctor thought sheought to.”

  “Well, she did want to go. How could she help wanting to go to Europe?”demanded Christopher triumphantly. “So she and father went, and we areto spend the whole summer on the farm.”

  “The whole summer,” repeated Jane, happily. But she swallowed hard asshe thought of her father and mother off in the middle of the ocean on abig ship.

  “It’s a real farm,” went on Christopher, “with cows and chickens andpigs.”

  “And horses and dogs and cats,” added Jane, the lump in her throatalready gone.

  “Oh, they don’t count. You could have horses and dogs and cats withouthaving a farm,” said Christopher. “There are big fields where the menplough and cut hay, and there must be dozens of cows,” he explained toMrs. Hartwell-Jones.

  “And where is this wonderful farm?”

  “It’s near Hammersmith. We drive there; miles and miles!”

  “The farm is called ‘Sunnycrest,’” put in Jane eagerly, “because thehouse—grandfather’s house—stands up on a hill. The farmhouse and stablesare down the hill across the dearest little creek, where they have adairy and make butter. Huldah lets me help sometimes. Huldah cooks forgrandmother but she lives at the farm, she and Josh.”

  “Josh is grandfather’s ‘right-hand man,’ grandfather calls him. Hebosses the whole farm and he’s awfully nice.”

  “It all sounds ‘awfully nice,’” said the gray-haired lady a littlewistfully. “I am going to Hammersmith, too, only I have to stay in thevillage. Perhaps you will come to see me some time?”

  “Yes’m,” said Jane politely. “If grandmother will let us.”

  Grandmother herself joined them just then. She was afraid that thechildren might be tiring their new friend. She and Mrs. Hartwell-Jonesintroduced themselves to each other and grandmother sat down in thechair out of which the children, mindful of their manners, had tumbled.They stood quietly in the aisle for a moment or two, but as grandmotherwould not allow them to have any more chocolates and the conversationpromised to be quite “grown up,” they ran back to their own seats.

  Presently the train slowed down and finally came to a stop beside along, dilapidated platform with a small, low wooden house. There wereseveral sets of tracks branching out from this platform in differentdirections and on the platform was a group of people, standing about asif waiting for a train.

  “What’s the matter, grandfather?” asked Christopher a littleimpatiently. “I thought this train wasn’t going to stop again until wegot to Hammersmith.”

  The conductor, who was passing through the train, heard Christopher’squestion and stopped obligingly to explain.

  “We have to wait for the Mount Plea
sant train here at the Junction,sonny,” he said. “It’s a bit late, but we won’t be delayed long. Thempeople,” he added to grandfather, pointing through the window to thegroup on the platform, “have been waiting for it ’most four hours.They’re a circus troupe.”

  A circus troupe! A traveling circus—how interesting! Jane andChristopher pressed eagerly to the window and stared out at the smallknot of people. There was nothing remarkable about them except that theyall looked tired and a little anxious. Jane surveyed them thoughtfully.

  “Poor people,” she said. “I’m sorry they have to stand there so long,waiting. They look tired. And there’s a baby—oh, Kit!” She grasped herbrother suddenly by the sleeve, still peering out through the window.“Oh, Kit, it is, it is!” she exclaimed excitedly. “It’s Letty!”

  “Who, the baby is?” asked Christopher contemptuously. “Do stop clawingme, Jane.”

  “No, no, the girl holding the baby. Do look, Kit. Don’t you see her?”

  Jane loosened her hold of Christopher’s sleeve to point out a childstanding a little apart from the waiting group. The girl was dressed ina faded, clean frock of pink gingham and her glossy brown hair wassmoothly brushed and braided. Her face was turned away from thechildren, but what they could see of it looked thin and sad. She carrieda jolly, restless, heavy baby in her arms who was crowing and holdingout its arms toward the locomotive. Christopher looked at the girl amoment in hesitation.

  “I don’t believe it’s Letty. But it does look some like her,” he addeddoubtfully. “I wish she would turn around more so I could see her facebetter.”

  As if in answer to his wish the little girl did turn just then andlooked directly at the children. Perhaps she had felt the intentness ofJane’s earnest gaze. At sight of the twins her face suddenly brightenedand she walked slowly down the platform toward the car in which theywere sitting.

  “It is Letty!” exclaimed the twins together in great excitement, andthey commenced to nod and smile with all their might.

  “Oh, grandfather, mayn’t we go to the platform to speak to her? Wehaven’t seen her in three whole years!” cried Jane eagerly. “We thoughtshe was lost.”

  “Speak to whom?” asked grandfather in great surprise, looking out of thewindow over the children’s shoulders.

  “Why, to Letty. See, there she is. She’s the little girl who saved ourlives from the bear. Hurry, before the train starts,” explainedChristopher, jumping up from his seat.

  He and Jane rushed pell-mell down the aisle to the door, followed by Mr.Baker.

  “What is it? What has happened?” asked grandmother in some alarm,looking up from her conversation with Mrs. Hartwell-Jones. “What arethey going to see?”

  “They say that the little girl is outside who saved their lives from theattack of the mad bear that time at Willow Grove Park.”

  “Really?” exclaimed grandmother much interested. “Then I should like totalk to her, too.”

  She rose from her seat, but paused to tell the story to Mrs.Hartwell-Jones.

  “It happened three years ago. My daughter-in-law had taken the childrento some sort of entertainment out at Willow Grove. A trained bear,driven mad by the heat, they supposed, broke loose from its keeper andcharged the audience. Jane and Christopher were sitting in the veryfront row and the bear was almost upon them when this little girl—one ofthe performers, an acrobat, I think—jumped down from the stage and threwa cover over the bear’s head so that he was blinded and his trainercaptured him easily enough.”

  “What great presence of mind,” said Mrs. Hartwell-Jones. “I should liketo see the little girl, too.”

  “Then let us step outside. My daughter did go to see them at once. Thechild’s mother was quite a lady but in most reduced circumstances; andshe went again later, meaning to help them, but learned that the motherhad died and the little girl had been taken away by friends, she wasnever able to find out where. If this is the child, I should like to dosomething for her.”

  In the meantime, Jane and Christopher had rushed to the door of the car,their faces beaming with excitement and delight. The girl hadtransferred the baby she was carrying hurriedly to its mother and stoodwatching the door with an air of shy expectancy.

  “Oh, Letty, Letty, to think that we have found you again!” exclaimedJane, kissing her heartily, while Christopher capered about them inglee.

  “Find me? Did you ever look for me?” asked the little girl, her facelighting up with pleasure.

  “Why, of course we did,” answered Christopher. “Didn’t we say we’d comeagain? We got your address from the boarding-house at Willow Grove andwe went to see you—but you had gone away.”

  “We were so sorry for you,” whispered Jane, slipping her hand intoLetty’s.

  Poor Letty turned away to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes. Shewas greatly changed, poor child, in those three years. Her face had lostall its pretty roundness and her eyes seemed too large for the rest ofher face, they were so wide and sad.

  “Have you been with the circus all this time?” asked Christopher withgreat interest.

  “Yes,” she answered sadly. “There hasn’t seemed anything else to do.My—my brother Ben died too, last year,” she added with a little sob.

  “Oh, I am so sorry—so, so sorry!” repeated Jane softly. “Poor Letty, Iwish you could come with us.”

  “We’re going to the farm to spend the summer,” explained Christopher.“Our grandfather’s farm. Don’t you remember we told you about it?”

  “Indeed I do remember. How happy you both must be.”

  “We are. And wouldn’t you like to come too?” asked Jane impulsively.

  “Of course I should like it, if I could,” and Letty’s voice grew verywistful.

  Just then a long train, with bell jangling and escaping steam hissing,rolled up to the opposite platform with a loud rumble. The waiting groupof people hastened to get on it.

  “Letty, Letty!” called some one sharply. “Come at once.”

  “Oh, Letty,” cried Jane, “must you go? Please don’t. We don’t want tolose you again!”

  “Letty, you’ll miss the train,” called a gruff masculine voice, andadded, “Hurry up, now,” in a tone not to be disobeyed.

  The conductor of the waiting train, his eye on his watch, emphasized theneed of haste by shouting “All aboard” very peremptorily.

  Letty stopped and kissed Jane and then bounded across the platform withall her old grace and agility.

  “Write to me. Please write to me!” shrieked Jane after her.

  The twins waved their hands frantically as Letty turned for a farewellnod, and watched the train pull out.

  “We don’t even know where she’s gone,” wailed Jane. “We’ll never see heragain!”

  Mrs. Baker stepped from the doorway of the parlor car, with Mrs.Hartwell-Jones behind her.

  “Has the little girl gone?” she asked regretfully. “I wanted to seeher.”

  “She’s gone,” Jane replied disconsolately. “And we don’t even knowwhere.”

  “Dear me, how very unsatisfactory,” sighed grandmother. “I should haveliked so much to do something for her.”

  Then they all went back into the car again as their own train began tomove.

  “From the fleeting glimpse I had of her, I should say that the child hada rather unusual face,” remarked Mrs. Hartwell-Jones thoughtfully, asthe two ladies seated themselves again. “Can you tell me anything moreabout her, Mrs. Baker?”

  “Janey,” said grandmother later, when they were all making ready toleave the train, “can’t you guess who Mrs. Hartwell-Jones really is?Don’t you remember her name?”

  Jane shook her head.

  “Why, she is the lady who wrote that lovely book you got last Christmas,of which you are so fond.”

  “The ‘Jimmie-Boy’ book?” asked Jane in an awestruck voice. “But that isby——” Opening her own miniature dress-suit case, of which she wasimmensely proud, Jane got out the book in question and spelled out
theauthor’s name: “Mary C. Hartwell-Jones.”

  “Exactly,” said grandmother with great satisfaction. “That is her wholename, ‘Mary C. Hartwell-Jones.’ She has taken rooms in Mrs. Parsons’house at Hammersmith for the whole summer, and she expects to writeanother book!”

  “Oh!” exclaimed Jane, much impressed. “And she asked us to come and seeher, grandmother.”

  Jane stared hard at the lady with whom she had chattered so freely andfamiliarly a short time before and whom she now regarded with thegreatest possible awe. Then, crossing to Christopher, she told him thewonderful news. And from that time on Mrs. Hartwell-Jones was known tothe two children as “The lady who wrote books.”