The Heiress of Wyvern Court | Page 3

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 like her height, so as to get her view of the way.
"Yes, thank you; I must keep to the right all the way, and turn three times--but I don't think I quite know what a farm is like," confessed she bravely.
"Oh, miss, that's easy; there isn't another house before you reach the farm--the village is above Willett's Farm."
"Thank you; then I'll think I'll go now."
"You'll not lose yourself? I'd go with you, but I expect another train in almost directly, and there isn't a soul about here that I could send. And about your box, miss: will you send for it?"
"Yes, I'll send for it; and--and I don't think I shall lose myself."
"Then good evening, miss." The porter touched his hat, and she bade him "good evening" in return; then the child went wandering down the road from the station--a blue