The Heiress of Wyvern Court | Page 3

eyes again.
"So she has a mother; I thought perhaps she hadn't," thought Dick.
Aloud he said bluffly, "'Tis well to be a girl, to have all made smooth
for one. Now here am I, come all the way from Wenley, turned out of
school because of the measles, and never a creature as much as to say,
'Have you got a ticket, or money to buy one?'"
"Oh, but they'd not let you come without a ticket," smiled Inna.
"I mean our chums at school, and father at home. Of course my father
knew I was all right about money, because he'd just sent my quarter's
allowance."
"And have they got the measles at your school?"
"Yes: are you afraid of me? Infection, you know."
"Afraid? oh no!"
"Well, if you caught it you'd be all right, your uncle being a doctor. A
doctor at a farm--queer, isn't it, now?" So Dick went skimming from
subject to subject, very like a swallow skimming over the surface of
water after flies and gnats.
"Yes," Inna could but confess it was--very guardedly, though, lest they
might verge upon gossip again.
"But Peggy's the farmer; your uncle has enough to do to look after his
patients. He's a clever fo--man--so clever that some say he's got
medicine on the brain."
Inna's lips were sealed conscientiously; but out of the brief silence that
followed she put the safe question--
"What colour's your kitten?"
"White. Wouldn't you like to take a peep at her?" and good-natured

Dick held the hamper so that she might catch a glimpse of the small
four-legged traveller.
"She's a beauty!"--such was Inna's opinion of her.
"And, according to you, she ought to have a beautiful name. But what
of my sister Jane? I call her Jenny, and Jin; and that reminds me of the
other gin with a g, you know; and that carries me on to trap, and trapper.
I sometimes call her Trapper. That sounds quite romantic, and carries
one away into North American Indian story life. Have you ever read
any North American Indian stories--about Indians, and scalps, and all
that?"
"No," was the decisive, though smiling, reply.
Ah! they were steaming into a station again.
"Lakely at last, and this is my station!" cried Dick, gathering his
belongings together, so as to be ready to leap out when the train
stopped, while a porter went shouting up and down the platform,
"Lakely! Lakely!"
"Well, good-bye, little friend; mind, Cherton comes next, then 'twill be
your turn to turn out." He wrung her hand, and was out on the platform
in a twinkle, loaded like a bee, happy as a boy.
"I say, Miss Inna, I should like you to come over to our place to see
Jenny, or Trapper. I shall ask the doctor to give you a lift over in his
gig," he put his head back into the carriage to say.
Now he was scudding away down the platform, and claiming a trunk
and portmanteau from a medley of luggage, had it set aside by the
porter, who seemed to know him; this done, he darted back again,
smiled in at the carriage window, where that sweet girlish face still
watched him, and then vanished.
CHAPTER II.

WILLETT'S FARM--TEA IN THE DINING-ROOM.
"Cherton! Cherton! Cherton!"
Inna sprang from the corner of her lonely carriage, and stepped out
upon the platform, helped by the kindly guard.
"Now, my dear, what's to be done? There's nobody here waiting for you,
as I see," said the man, looking up and down the small platform, where
she seemed to be the only arrival--she and her neat little trunk, which a
porter brought and set down at her feet.
"No, they don't know I'm coming," returned the child, with a sober
shake of her head.
"Where for, miss?" inquired the porter, as the guard looked at him.
"My--Mr. Willett's, at Willett's Farm," said Inna, in a sort of startled
importance at having to speak for herself.
"Do you know the way?" asked the man.
"No; but I should if you told me--I mean----"
"Yes, miss; I know what you mean," replied the porter, noting her
childish confusion. "I'll see to her, and send her safely," he promised
the busy guard, and took her small gloved hand in his, and led her away
out into the open road by the station, stretching away among fields, all
bathed in crimson and golden sunshine.
"Now, miss," said he, pointing with his finger, "you go along this road
and turn to your right, and along a lane, turn to your right, and along
another; don't turn to your left at all; then turn to your right again, and
there you are at Willett's Farm. Do you understand?" he asked kindly,
bending down to something