upon the boat, he chose the route via Lexington, where he stopped at the Phoenix, as was his usual custom.
After seeing his mother and niece into the public parlor he left them for a time, saying he had some business to transact in the city. Scarcely was he gone when the sound of shuffling footsteps in the hall announced an arrival, and a moment after, a boy, apparently fifteen years of age, appeared in the door. He was richly though carelessly dressed, and notwithstanding the good-humored expression of his rather handsome face, there was in his whole appearance an indescribable something which at once pronounced him to be a "fast" boy. A rowdy hat was set on one side of his head, after the most approved fashion, while in his hand he held a lighted cigar, which he applied to his mouth when he saw the parlor was unoccupied, save by an "old woman" and a "little girl."
Instinctively 'Lena shrank from him, and withdrawing herself as far as possible within the recess of the window, pretended to be busily watching the passers-by. But she did not escape his notice, and after coolly surveying her for a moment, he walked up to her, saying, "How d'ye, polywog? I'll be hanged if I know to what gender you belong—woman or gal—which is it, hey?"
"None of your business," was 'Lena's ready answer.
"Spunky, ain't you," said he, unceremoniously pulling one of the brown curls which Durward had so longed to touch. "Seems to me your hair don't match the rest of you; wonder if 'tisn't somebody else's head set on your shoulders."
"No, it ain't. It's my own head, and you just let it alone," returned 'Lena, growing more and more indignant, and wondering if this were a specimen of Kentucky boys.
"Don't be saucy," continued her tormentor; "I only want to see what sort of stuff you are made of."
"Made of dirt" muttered 'Lena.
"I reckon you are," returned the boy; "but say, where did you come from and who do you live with?"
"I came from Massachusetts, and I live with granny," said 'Lena, thinking that if she answered him civilly, he would perhaps let her alone. But she was mistaken.
Glancing at "granny," he burst into a loud laugh, and then placing his hat a little more on one side, and assuming a nasal twang, he said, "Neow dew tell, if you're from Massachusetts. How dew you dew, little Yankee, and how are all the folks to hum?"
Feeling sure that not only herself but all her relations were included in this insult, 'Lena darted forward hitting him a blow in the face, which he returned by puffing smoke into hers, whereupon she snatched the cigar from his mouth and hurled it into the street, bidding him "touch her again if he dared." All this transpired so rapidly that Mrs. Nichols had hardly time to understand its meaning, but fully comprehending it now, she was about coming to the rescue, when her son reappeared, exclaiming, "John, John Livingstone, Jr., how came you here?"
Had a cannon exploded at the feet of John Jr., as he was called, he could not have been more startled. He was not expecting his father for two or three days, and was making the most of his absence by having what he called a regular "spree." Taking him altogether, he was, without being naturally bad, a spoiled child, whom no one could manage except his father, and as his father seldom tried, he was of course seldom managed. Never yet had he remained at any school more than two quarters, for if he were not sent away, he generally ran away, sure of finding a champion in his mother, who had always petted him, calling him, "Johnny darling," until he one day very coolly informed her that she was "a silly old fool," and that "he'd thank her not to 'Johnny darling' him any longer."
It would be difficult to describe the amazement of John Jr. when 'Lena was presented to him as his cousin, and Mrs. Nichols as his grandmother. Something which sounded very much like an oath escaped his lips, as turning to his father he muttered, "Won't mother go into fits?" Then, as he began to realize the ludicrousness of the whole affair, he exclaimed, "Rich, good, by gracious!" and laughing loudly, he walked away to regale himself with another cigar.
Lena began to tremble for her future happiness, if this boy was to live in the same house with her. She did not know that she had already more than half won his good opinion, for he was far better pleased with her antagonistical demonstrations, than he would have been had she cried or ran from him, as his sister Anna generally did when he teased her. After a few moments here turned to the parlor, and walking up to Mrs. Nichols, commenced talking very sociably with her, calling her "Granny," and winking slyly at 'Lena as he did so. Mr. Livingstone had too much good sense to sit quietly by and hear his mother ridiculed by his son, and in a loud, stern voice he bade the young gentleman "behave himself."
"Law, now," said Mrs. Nichols, "let him talk if he wants to. I like to hear him. He's the only grandson I've got."
This speech had the effect of silencing John Jr. quite as much as his father's command. If he could tease his grandmother by talking to her, he would take delight in doing so, but if she wanted him to talk—that was quite another thing. So moving away from her, he took a seat near 'Lena, telling her her dress was "a heap too short," and occasionally pinching her, just to vary the sport! This last, however, 'Lena returned with so much force that he grew weary of the fun, and informing her that he was going to a circus which was in town that evening, he arose to leave the room.
Mr. Livingstone, who partially overheard what he had said, stopped him and asked "where he was going?"
Feigning a yawn and rubbing his eyes, John Jr. replied that "he was confounded sleepy and was going to bed."
"'Lena, where did he say he was going?" asked her uncle.
'Lena trembled, for John Jr. had clinched his fist, and was shaking it threateningly at her.
"Where did he say he was going?" repeated her uncle.
Poor 'Lena had never told a lie in her life, and now braving her cousin's anger, she said, "To the circus, sir. Oh, I wish you had not asked me."
"You'll get your pay for that," muttered John Jr. sullenly reseating himself by his father, who kept an eye on him until he saw him safely in his room.
Much as John Jr. frightened 'Lena with his threats, in his heart he respected her for telling the truth, and if the next morning on their way home in the stage, in which his father compelled him to take a seat, he frequently found it convenient to step on her feet, it was more from a natural propensity to torment than from any lurking feeling of revenge. 'Lena was nowise backward in returning his cousinly attentions, and so between an interchange of kicks, wry faces, and so forth, they proceeded toward "Maple Grove," a description of which will be given in another chapter.
CHAPTER V.
MAPLE GROVE.
The residence of Mr. Livingstone, or rather of Mr. Livingstone's wife, was a large, handsome building, such as one often finds in Kentucky, particularly in the country. Like most planters' houses, it stood at some little distance from the street, from which its massive walls, wreathed with evergreen, were just discernible. The carriage road which led to it passed first through a heavy iron gate guarded by huge bronze lions, so natural and life-like, that Mrs. Nichols, when first she saw them, uttered a cry of fear. Next came a beautiful maple grove, followed by a long, green lawn, dotted here and there with forest trees and having on its right a deep running brook, whose waters, farther on at the rear of the garden, were formed into a miniature fish-pond.
