"Betty," answered George, in admiration, "why did I not think of this? I see it is just what we ought to do."
"Because," said Betty, promptly, "women are much more thoughtful than men, and girls are much more thoughtful than boys."
George did not dispute this, as he had been taught never to call in question any woman's goodness, and in his heart he believed them to be all as good as his mother and Betty and his sister Anne. The lesson of chivalry towards all women had been early and deeply taught him, and it was a part of the fibre of his being. "And shall I write and ask our mother to let us stay?" asked George, humbly.
"No," replied Betty, with a slight accent of scorn; "you might not ask it in the right way. I shall write myself."
Now, although Betty always assumed, when alone with George, this superior tone, yet when they were in company nothing could exceed her submissiveness towards this darling brother, and it was then George's turn to treat her with condescending kindness. But each thought this arrangement perfectly natural and mutually satisfactory. Whenever they had a discussion, though, Betty always carried the day, for she was really a girl of remarkably fine sense, and much more glib and persuasive than George, who could always be silenced, if not convinced, by Betty's ready tongue and quick wit. The next day the letter was written, and within a week a reply was received giving permission for them to remain over Christmas.
Mrs. Washington, ever thoughtful of others, made the same preparation for the holiday on the estate as usual, so that, however sad the house might be, the servants should have their share of jollity. But the tie between a kind master and mistress and their slaves was one of great affection, and especially were the white children objects of affection to the black people. Therefore, although the usual Christmas holiday was given, with all the extra allowances and indulgences, it was a quiet season at Mount Vernon. On Christmas day, instead of the merry party in carriages going to Pohick Church, and an equally merry one going on board the Bellona to service, the coach only took Mr. and Mrs. Washington and Betty to church, George riding with them, for he hated a coach, and never drove when he could ride.
Meanwhile William Fairfax had returned to Belvoir, where there were Christmas festivities. George and Betty were asked, and although their brother and sister urged them to go, neither felt really inclined for gayety. They were not of those natures forever in pursuit of pleasure, although none could enjoy it more when it came rightly; and a native good sense and tender sympathy with others, which found no expression in words, made them both feel that they should omit no mark of respect in a case where they were so directly benefited as by the little girl's death. Laurence Washington and his wife could not admire too much George's delicacy about Mount Vernon. While he made use of the servants and the horses and carriages and boats, and everything else on the place, with the freedom of a son rather than of a younger brother, no word or look escaped him that indicated he was the heir.
William Fairfax was a great resource to both George and Betty. Living a whole summer together as he and George had done, it was inevitable that they should become either very much attached or very antagonistic—and luckily they had become devotedly fond of one another. William was preparing to enter William and Mary College the following year, and George bitterly regretted that he would not have so pleasant a companion for his next summer's work. Very different were his circumstances now, the acknowledged heir of a rich brother. But George determined to act as if no such thing existed, and to carry out his plan of finishing the surveys on Lord Fairfax's lands. The universal expectation of war with France, whenever the French and English outposts should get sufficiently near, made him sure that he would one day bear arms; but he prepared for whatever the future might hold for him by doing his best in the present.
In February he returned to Ferry Farm for a while, but he had been there only a month when Laurence Washington wrote, begging that he would return, and saying that he himself felt utterly unequal to carrying on the affairs of a great estate in his present wretched state of health and spirits. Madam Washington made no objection to George's return to Mount Vernon. She realized the full extent of Laurence's kind intentions towards George, and that his presence was absolutely necessary to keep the machinery of a large plantation going.
In March, therefore, George was again at Mount Vernon, practically in charge of the place. There were ploughing and ditching and draining and clearing and planting to be done, and, with a force of a hundred and fifty field hands and eighteen hundred acres of arable land, it was no small undertaking. By daylight George was in the saddle, going first to the stables to see the stock fed, then to the kennels, and, after breakfast, riding over the whole estate. It kept him in the open air all day, and he began to like not only the life, but the responsibility. He had all the privileges of the master, Laurence leaving everything to his judgment, and his sister was glad to have it so. This continued until June, when, the crops being well advanced and Lord Fairfax having written urgently for him, he turned affairs over to the overseer until the autumn, and prepared to resume his work as a surveyor.