The fierce frenzy of destruction—that savage instinct that has made other princes and kings tear down whole cities—took possession of him. Clouds of dust rolled up from the interior, and filled his nostrils like the smoke of battle. He dove into the very center of the core of the inside of the middle of the last dungeon of the fortress. Up heaved the excelsior before his frantic onslaught, flying in every direction. It lay in heaps, around him, over him, under him, in front of him, behind him. It fell on the remotest breastwork of furniture.
The rout was complete! No explosion could have rent that footstool more disastrously. Van shook off the ruins that had landed on his back; lay down on the empty shell of what was no longer and never more would be a footstool, and proceeded to divide the spoils, so to speak.
He worked through long and short division, and was worrying through a problem in fractions which concerned the last fragment that could still be called carpet, when Mrs. Johns and Betsy appeared in the doorway.
Through a haze they dimly saw a brown and white morsel of live joy, triumphing in the midst of a drifting mass of excelsior. Van lifted his head proudly and looked at them, as if he would say,
“Alone I did it! Excelsior!”
CHAPTER VI
BETSY’S FIRST LESSONS
“‘I can stand it a week.’”
IT was a summer full of events for both Van and his mistress. Slowly and patiently Aunt Kate corrected Betsy’s uncouth ways, and the book of “Manners” grew. Betsy took smaller mouthfuls now, used her fork properly and ate quietly. She learned her tricks like Van, having to be told but once. If she forgot she corrected herself.
Aunt Kate said one day to Uncle Ben,