So Big Abel he des stayed behint."
"That was wise of Big Abel," remarked Betty. "Now open the door, Uncle
Cupid, and I'll carry this upstairs," and as Cupid threw open the door, she
went out, holding the tray before her.
The old lady received her graciously, ate the toast and drank the tea, and
even admitted that it couldn't have been better if she had made it with her
own hands. "I think that you will have to come and live with me, Betty,"
she said good-humouredly. "What a pity you can't fancy one of those useless
boys of mine. Not that I'd have you marry Dan, child, the Major has spoiled
him to death, and now he's beginning to repent it; but Champe, Champe is a
good and clever lad and would make a mild and amiable husband, I am sure.
Don't marry a man with too much spirit, my dear; if a man has any extra
spirit, he usually expends it in breaking his wife's."
"Oh, I shan't marry yet awhile," replied Betty, looking out upon the
falling autumn leaves.
"So I said the day before I married Mr. Lightfoot," rejoined the old lady,
settling her pillows, "and now, if you have nothing better to do, you might
read me a chapter of 'Thaddeus of Warsaw'; you will find it to be a book of
very pretty sentiment."
IX
THE MONTJOY BLOOD
In the morning Betty was awakened by the tapping of the elm boughs on the
roof above her. An autumn wind was blowing straight from the west, and when
she looked out through the small greenish panes of glass, she saw eddies of
yellowed leaves beating gently against the old brick walls.
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