The Heiress of Wyvern Court | Page 6

here years ago,
before my time. Now, old man, come to tea." With this, the boy slapped
the other on the arm with pleasant familiarity, and went back to his
tea-making.
Mr. Barlow led Inna to her seat, and saw her comfortable there, taking
his own chair beside her, while Oscar sat with his back to the fire--like
a cat on a frosty night, Mr. Barlow told him. Inna wondered where her
uncle was, but asked no questions as yet--only munched away at her
toast in her dainty way, and sipped her tea, trying hard to feel that she
was at home. As for Oscar, he made such sloppy work with the urn,
that Mr. Barlow had to say presently--
"Don't make a sea of the table, boy. You see what incapable creatures
we are, Miss Inna. I never could make tea, and your own eyes tell you
what Oscar can do."
"I suppose Uncle Jonathan makes tea when he is here," was Inna's
reply.
At which the two gentlemen looked comically at each other.
"Well, I can't say I ever saw the doctor come down from the clouds
enough for that," observed Mr. Barlow dryly; "but I hope his little
great-niece--am I right in the pedigree, Oscar?--will set us to rights, and

bring in the age of civilisation for us."
Inna could but laugh a tinkling laugh at this, and asked timidly, "Do
you live here, Mr. Barlow?"
"No, dear; but I'm here morning, noon, and night. My head-quarters are
at Mrs. Tussell's, whose name ought to be, now, guess what?"
People must suppose she had an aptitude for guessing, Inna thought,
and asked with rosy cheeks was it "Fussy"?
"Just the word; only you mustn't tell her so," was the reply; at which
Inna shook her head, and said she could not be so rude. Then came the
sound of the doctor's gig outside the house, a step and a voice in the
passage.
"He'll not come in here, dear," Mr. Barlow told Inna, seeing her start
and change colour; "he'll have a cup of tea in his den, as we call it," at
which Oscar nodded, and said, "And a good name too!"
Tea over, Mr. Barlow rose, and said "Good-bye for to-night, Miss Inna;
David is going to Jonathan," patted her head, and was gone.
"Is his real name David?" she asked shyly of this cousin she had no
idea of finding at Uncle Jonathan's; nor had her mamma either, she
decided in her own mind.
"No; William--Billy Barlow they call him in the village, only I didn't
say so just now," returned Oscar drily.
"Mind your lessons, Master Oscar," said Mrs. Grant, when she came in
to fetch the tea equipage.
"Fudge!" was the boy's response, he and Inna established on the hearth,
roasting chestnuts; and they were still there when Dr. Willett surprised
them by a footfall close behind them.
Up sprang Inna, like a startled daisy.

"So you're Mercy's little daughter?" said he, by way of greeting.
CHAPTER III.
DR. WILLETT--THE NUTTING EXPEDITION--THE FIRE.
"So you're Mercy's little daughter?" said the doctor, by way of greeting.
"Yes," faltered Inna; but she put her hand in his; this Uncle Jonathan,
with whom she had come to live, was all she had in England now,
except Oscar and Mr. Barlow, who was nobody as yet. The doctor
pressed her small hand in his big strong one. Tall--taller than his friend
David--was he, with dark hair and beard--at least, they had been dark,
but were fast turning grey; his eyes were dark, piercing, and observant,
full of fire; still, a kindly face, a kindly manner had he.
"Well, little woman, I've read your mother's letter. I never intended to
be troubled with any more children after Oscar fell to my lot; but for
your mother's sake, and her mother's before her, I can't shut my door
against you. So now stay, and see if you can't open another door on
your own account." This is what he said, still holding her hand in his.
"Do you know what door I mean?" he asked, as the child darted an
upward glance at him.
"Yes," she nodded, "yes." She could not say more, her heart was
thumping so, but her small twining fingers in the doctor's palm told him
a great deal.
He patted her on the head, and let her go; he did not kiss her. Inna
wished he had when, later on, she was in bed, thinking of the many
to-morrows she was to spend in this new uncle's house. Her chamber
was up in one of the gables of the quaint old house; the windows
overlooked the garden and the home orchard, where, in the former,
Michaelmas daisies and sunflowers flaunted in the sunshine when she
looked