CHAPTER XIII

TH

THE FLIGHT OF BETTINA

HE sun was rising behind the mountains as Bettina sprang from her bed and looked at her watch. Just quarter to five. All doubt, fear, and anxiety had been dispelled and a certain steadfastness of resolution had taken their place in her heart. Henceforth she would walk fearlessly on, hampered by no misgivings.

She reached for the time table on the shelf beneath the little stand by the bedside. At eight o'clock the train left Norwood to connect with the day Pullman for Boston; if she arrived there on time, she could take the night train for New York, reaching there early in the morning. Hastily she indulged in a cool bath, and then began packing. An adept in the task through long practice, the work was soon done, and when the first bell for breakfast sounded at seven o'clock it found her dressed for the journey, even to her traveling cap.

Mr. Carter was behind the desk when she entered the office, greeting him with a cheery "Good morning!" An expression of surprise crossed his face as he recognized her.

"Yes, Mr. Carter," she said, interpreting his glance, "I am leaving you this morning. It is unexpected, but I received news last night that impels me to shorten my visit somewhat."

Uncle Poly's eyes fell, and he began to sort the letters for the mail with nervous fingers. He had had suspicions for some time as to her identity, and he felt perfectly sure that in some way Richard's sudden departure from the pavilion the evening before was connected with her resolve to leave Norwood. He had grown very fond of this quiet, retiring little woman whose personality had appealed to him from the first.

"Life is made up of partings, Miss Germaine," he said as he tied a piece of string around the letters and handed them to Hiram who had just come in the office. "There are many who will regret not being able to see you, and express the pleasure your very beautiful singing afforded them. Our Grand Master, for one," he paused, intentionally, and looked at her with a steady gaze. She felt the force of the look and her eyes sought the floor. "He will be sorry not to see you today. He asked me to inquire what hour would be most convenient for you to receive him."

Bettina turned away and looked out of the window. She wondered how much this little man with the gray mustache and imperial knew of last night's adventure. Not trusting herself to meet his eyes, she said:

"Please tell him that I regret not being able to see him, and that I am very glad if in any way I was of service in so good a cause. And will you give my love to Miss Hayden? Tell her I appreciated her words to me last night, she was indeed friendly," her voice trembled as she spoke. Opening her satchel she asked him if she might not pay her bill now instead of after breakfast? "As you wish, Miss Germaine, as you wish," replied Mr. Carter, taking down the ledger and turning the pages to her account. Sitting at the desk she addressed some envelopes and slipped a bank note in each with a few written words. This task accomplished, she bestowed a last longing look on the familiar objects in the dear old office. Sappho was still sound asleep on the mantel, the clock in the corner was solemnly ticking away the hours; it was exactly quarter past seven. The cozy armchairs were all in their accustomed places-how homelike it all was!

May I ask you to give these to George and his family, please, Mr. Carter?" she said, handing him the envelopes. "I don't want to be thanked for what is in them. They all have been so thoughtful of my comfort; and parting from you seems like leaving a friend."

Uncle Poly's eyes were suspiciously moist as he came from behind his desk and laid a gentle hand on the girl's arm.

"You will come again, my child, you will

come again," he repeated. A lump was rising in his throat; he didn't like to have her go like this, and he wished that Richard could have a talk with her before she left town. It was such a sudden move on her part that it gave him no chance to maneuver and give the Grand Master an opportunity to make good his intention of seeing her.

Leading the way to the dining room he instructed George to send in breakfast for himself as well as for Miss Germaine, who was leaving unexpectedly on the early train.

When Pearl communicated the news to her mother, Cornelia expressed her feelings in no uncertain terms. "Yous didn't 'spect she was gwine to stay all winter, did yo'?" retorted her spouse, rescuing the gem pan just in time to save the whole baking from falling on the floor as Cornelia raised her hands in a gesture of mingled protest and regret. Her eyes flashed and her ample bosom heaved. With hands on her hips she gave George a withering look as she said:

"Miss German ain't no ornery summer vistor, she hab temper'ment, an' I guess I knows quality folks when I see um." Then the feeling of resentment gaining on her, "What yo' know 'bout 'finity ob soul, yo' nigger, yo'?" lapsing into old plantation terms, as she frequently did when she felt annoyed. "Lan' sakes! I's uncommon sorry she's gwine! Scrutiatin'ly sorry. It do discombobilate me suffin' drefful!" Straightening her

turban she wiped her hands on her apron and set herself to work filling a luncheon box with the choicest dainties the well-stocked larder of the Arms afforded.

"I feel it in meh bones, dat she'll come back, an' meh bones can be derpended 'pon. A puffecly elegant lady!" declared Cornelia for the third time in the last half hour, as she and her daughters lined up on the veranda when Miss Germaine accompanied by Mr. Carter emerged from the hotel. Before leaving the breakfast table Mr. Carter had given George the envelopes that Bettina had intrusted to him for the servants. Cornelia's adjectives had been completely exhausted trying to impress on her husband and the "Jewels" the honor that had been conferred upon them by Miss Germaine's generosity.

"It ain't so much de money, tho' it's very 'ceptable, an' comes in right handy tuh hab 'bout de house, but de way she done it shows quality. Don' yo's fergit dat."

Just as Bettina stepped into the coach, George, not to be outdone by his family who had equipped themselves with dust cloths and towels to wave at the departing guest, rushed into the office to reappear, bearing the American flag which had stood in the corner behind the desk. This he unfurled, and waved over the head of Cornelia, who with raised arm, like an ebony Goddess of Liberty, stood waving a dish towel, her Jewels beside her.