Betty laughed gleefully. “I’d love potatoes and pork more than anything,” she said. “May Dan and Beersheba dine with us?”
“Well, miss, I don’t expect you’ll find it easy to get ’em parted from you.”
So Betty entered the farmyard, and walked through, in her direct fashion, without picking her steps; for she loved, as she expressed it, a sense of confusion and the sight of different animals. She had a knack of making herself absolutely at home, and did so on the present occasion. Soon she was seated in the big bright kitchen of the farmhouse, and was served with an excellent meal of the best fresh pork and the most mealy potatoes she had seen since she left Scotland. Mrs. Miles gave her a great big glass of rich milk, but she preferred water. Dan sat at one side of her, Beersheba at the other. They did not ask for food; but they asked imploringly for the pat of a firm, brown little hand, and for the look of love in Betty’s eyes.
“I have enjoyed myself,” said the girl, jumping up. “I do think you are the nicest people anywhere; and as to your dogs, they are simply glorious. Might not I come here again some day, and—and bring my sisters with me? They are twins, you know. Do you mind twins?”
“Bless your sweet voice!” said Mrs. Miles; “is it a-minding twins we be when we has two sets ourselves?”
“My sisters are very nice, considering that they are twins,” said Betty, who was always careful not to overpraise her own people; “and they are just as fond of dogs as I am. Oh, by the way, we have a lovely spider—a huge, glorious creature. His name is Dickie, and he lives in an attic at the Court. He’s as big as this.” Betty made an apt illustration with her fingers.
“Lor’, miss, he must be an awful beast! We’re dead nuts agen spiders at the Stoke Farm.”
Betty looked sad. “It is strange,” she said, “how no one loves Dickie except our three selves. We won’t bring him, then; but may we come?”
“It all depends, miss, on whether Mrs. Haddo gives you leave. ’Tain’t the custom, sure and certain, for young ladies from the Court to come a-visiting at Stoke Farm; but if so be she says yes, you’ll be heartily welcome, and more than welcome. I can’t say more, can I, miss?”
“Well, I have had a happy time,” said Betty; “and now I must be going back.”