Young Folks' Treasury, Volume 3 — Simple Susan: Barbara Visits The Abbey

BARBARA VISITS THE ABBEY

The old blind man had come from the mountains of Wales to try to gain a prize of ten guineas.

This prize was to be awarded to the harper who should play the best at a large town about five miles from the village where Susan lived.

In the evening, after the prize-giving was over, there was to be a ball in the town, so the events of the day were looked forward to by many around.

Barbara was one of those who grew more and more excited as the time for the prize-giving and ball drew near.

She longed to be asked to go there by some of the rich neighbors who could drive her in their carriage.

So how pleased she was when, on the evening that her father and the butcher were talking about Susan's lamb, a servant in livery from the Abbey left a note for Mr. and Miss Barbara Case!

It was to invite them to dinner and tea at the Abbey next day.

"Now they will find out," cried Bab, "that I am indeed a genteel person, and they will wish to take me to the ball.

At any rate, I shall do my best to be asked."

"To be sure," said Betty, "a lady who would visit Susan Price might well be glad to take you in her carriage."

"Then pray, Betty, do not forget to send to town first thing to-morrow for my new bonnet.

Without that the ladies of the Abbey will think nothing of me.

And I must coax Papa to buy me a new gown for the ball.

I shall look well at all the ladies' dresses at the Abbey to-morrow and find out the fashion.

And Betty, I have thought of a charming present to take Miss Somers.

I shall give her Susan's guinea-hen.

It's of no use to me, so carry it up early in the morning to the Abbey, with my compliments."

Feeling quite sure that her bonnet and the guinea-fowl would make Miss Somers think well of her, Barbara paid her first visit to the Abbey.

She expected to see wonders, but when she was shown into the room where Miss Somers and other ladies were sitting, simply dressed, and with work, books and drawings on the table before them, she was surprised and vexed.

There was nothing grand to be seen anywhere.

When Miss Somers tried to find out what would interest her, and talked of walks, and flowers and gardens, Miss Barbara was offended.

"I will show them," she said to herself, "that I can talk of other things."

So in a grand tone she spoke of what she did not understand, until her mistaken airs of gentility made the ladies of the Abbey feel first amused and then ashamed.

One by one the ladies left the room, and when Miss Somers went to change her dress for dinner, Barbara was left alone with some pretty drawings to amuse her.

But the silly girl paid no heed to these.

She could think only of the ball.

Suddenly she remembered that nothing had been said about the guinea-hen.

The truth was that Betty, in the hurry of dressing Barbara for her visit to the Abbey, had forgotten the bird, but it arrived just as Miss Somers was dressing.

The housekeeper went to her mistress's room to say it had come.

"Ma'am," she said, "here's a beautiful guinea-hen just come with Miss Barbara Case's compliments."

Miss Somers thought by the housekeeper's tone that she was not quite pleased, and she soon found she was right in thinking so.

The woman came close up to the dressing-table, and said, "I never like to speak till I'm sure, ma'am, and I'm not quite sure in this case, ma'am, but still I think it right to tell you what crossed my mind about this same guinea-hen, ma'am, and you can ask about it or do as you feel best, ma'am.

Some time ago we had guinea-fowls of our own, and not knowing they were going to die as they have done, ma'am, I made bold to give a couple last Christmas to Susan Price, and very proud of them she was, ma'am, and I'm sure would never have parted with the hen of her own will.

But if my eyes don't deceive me, ma'am, this guinea-hen that Miss Barbara sends to you with her compliments is the same that I gave to Susan.

How Miss Barbara came by it, I can't tell, ma'am, but if my boy Philip was at home, he might know, for he's often at Farmer Price's cottage.

If you wish it, ma'am, I'll ask him when he comes home to-night."

"I think the best way will be for me to ask Miss Case herself about it this evening," said Miss Somers.

Dinner was now served.

Attorney Case expected to smell mint sauce, and as the covers were taken off the dishes he looked around for lamb, but no lamb did he see.

Among other things talked of at table was a carving-knife that Sir Arthur had made for his sister.

From this the conversation passed to carving.

"Now is my chance to find out about my present," thought the Attorney.

"Pray, may I ask," he said to Sir Arthur, "how you carve a fore quarter of lamb?"

Sir Arthur at once saw what the Attorney wanted to hear.

Having answered his question, he went on to thank him for the present he had offered, but added, "I am sorry I cannot accept it, as it is my rule never to accept gifts from my neighbors.

The reason is that our poor tenants cannot show their good will in this way, as they have little or nothing to offer."

Attorney Case listened with surprise.

He was annoyed and angry, for he did not understand Sir Arthur's just mind and kind heart.

After the ladies left the dining-room and were walking up and down the large hall, one of them remarked that it would be a charming place for music.

Barbara, who like her father always seized any chance of turning the conversation as best pleased herself, said what a fine instrument was the harp.

Then she spoke of the prize-giving to the harpers and of the ball that was to follow.

"I know a good deal about the ball," she said, "because a lady in the town where it is to be held offered to take me with her, but although she has a carriage, Papa did not like to let her send it so far."

At this point Barbara fixed her eyes on Miss Somers, that she might, if possible, read her thoughts, but as the lady was at that moment letting down the veil of her hat, her face was not seen.

"Shall we go for a little walk before tea?"

said Miss Somers to the other ladies.

"I have a pretty guinea-hen to show you."

Barbara now felt hopeful, and when even among the pheasants and peacocks the guinea-hen was much admired, she was sure that Miss Somers must indeed be proud to accept her gift.

At this moment Philip came running by on an errand for his mother.

As his eye fell upon the guinea-hen, he exclaimed before he knew, "Why, that is Susan's guinea-hen!"

"No, it is not Susan's guinea-hen," said Miss Barbara, coloring furiously, "it is mine, and I have made a present of it to Miss Somers."

At the sound of Bab's voice, Philip turned round, his face ablaze with anger.

"What is the matter, Philip?"

asked Miss Somers in a soothing voice, but Philip was not in the mood to be soothed.

"Why, ma'am, may I speak out?"

he asked, and without waiting for leave he gave a full account of the loss of Susan's guinea-fowl, of Rose's visit to Barbara, and of Barbara's greedy and cruel conduct.

Barbara denied all that Philip said, and told quite another tale.

When she could find no more to say she blushed deeply, for she saw that her story was not believed.

One might have thought she was covered with shame, had it not been that the moment Philip was out of sight, she exclaimed, "I am sure I wish I had never seen this wretched guinea-hen!

It is all Susan's fault for letting it stray into our garden."

Barbara was too angry to notice that she was admitting the truth of Philip's story.

"Perhaps," said Miss Somers, "Susan will be more careful now that she has had so hard a lesson.

Shall we see?

Philip will, I am sure, carry the guinea-hen back to her, if we wish it."

"If you please, ma'am," said Barbara sulkily.

So the guinea-hen was given to Philip, who set off with joy and was soon in sight of Farmer Price's cottage.