"Be assured that I will, my children," said Mrs. Fairchild; "and we will not fear. You will not dislike Bessy—she is a good-tempered, merry girl; but you must not let her be alone with Henry: her very good humour may make her a dangerous companion to him."
Mr. Fairchild went, after dinner, to fetch Mrs. Goodriche and Bessy; and just before tea Henry came in to say the carriage was coming. He ran out again as fast as he could to set the gate open.
Mrs. Fairchild and the little girls met their visitors at the door.
Bessy jumped out of the carriage, and without waiting
for the names to be spoken, gave her hands to Lucy and Emily. She kissed Lucy, and would have kissed Emily if she had not got behind Mrs. Fairchild.
"And that was Henry," she said, "who stood at the gate: he is a nice little fellow! I know all the names, and John's and Betty's too. Sukey has told me about Betty—just such another as herself. What a pretty place this is!—not like aunt's old barn of a house. I feel at home here already."
Whilst the young lady was prattling in this manner, Mrs. Fairchild was showing Mrs. Goodriche to her sleeping-room. She had put up a little couch-bed in the corner of the same room for Bessy, as she had no other room to give; and this had been settled between the ladies the day before. Mrs. Goodriche had told her niece to follow her upstairs, which Miss Bessy might perchance have done, after a while, had not Betty appeared coming from the kitchen to carry up the luggage.
"That is Betty," said Miss Bessy. "How do you do, Betty? Sukey told me to remember her to you."
"Very well, thank you, Miss," said Betty, with a low curtsey, as she bustled by with a bandbox.
Mrs. Goodriche now appeared, and speaking to her niece from the stair-head said: