CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE GRANDFATHER OF ALISE
The following Friday, Madame Deriby asked the youngest teacher to ride to the station in the bus to meet a very small new pupil who was coming to Linden in the care of the conductor.
On her return, Gertrude hailed Adele who was pacing up and down the deserted terrace memorizing a French poem. Della turned and waited for her dearest friend. “Why, Trudie!” she exclaimed. “Your eyes are shining as though you had some wonderful news to tell. Has anything happened?”
“Not yet,” the other laughingly replied, “but it’s going to happen soon. Adele, just think of it, he has really come.”
“Who has come?” Della inquired, much mystified. “I didn’t know that you were expecting any one,” then she added eagerly, “You don’t mean Jack or Bob, do you?”
Gertrude shook her head. “Oh, I’m so excited,” she declared, “but all that I really know about it is this. When I was down at the station just now, I saw several big trunks, and on the end of one I read the name A. R. Ellsworth. Of course, that is the crabbed old gentleman who lives at Elmhurst, and now, if only I can find a way, I am going to call upon him and tell him what I think of him for neglecting poor little Alise.”
Just then a gong sounded which called the girls to their classes and they went indoors, both very much interested in the possible owner of the trunks. The next day, being Saturday, the opportunity for which Gertrude had been wishing came in the form of an errand which Madame Deriby asked her youngest teacher to do, since Patrick and Billie were both otherwise engaged.
About a mile and a half from the school was the farm of Mr. O’Rourke, and he it was who provided butter and eggs and chickens and vegetables, whenever they were needed at Linden Hall, and this day Gertrude had been asked to ride to the farm and order turkeys for the approaching Thanksgiving dinner.
“Ask Adele to accompany you, if you wish,” Madame Deriby had said, and Gertrude fairly flew up to the corner room where she found her dearest friend alone.
“The momentous hour has arrived!” Gertrude exclaimed. “We are to go on an errand which leads us past the iron gates of Elmhurst.”
“But, Trudie, you never would dare to ride up to the house and ask to speak to that dreadful Mr. Ellsworth, would you? He might not be the grandfather at all, and if he is as grouchy as every one says, your visit would not be a very pleasant one.”
“But I intend to take you along to protect me,” Gertrude laughingly declared. “Do close that book, Adele. You ought not to study French on Saturday. Let’s don our riding-habits as soon as ever we can.”
It was a glorious Indian-summer day with a soft, sun-warmed breeze wafting to them pleasant fragrance from wood and field. The two girls rode along, sometimes silently enjoying the loveliness of the morning, and again talking together, wondering what the outcome of their visit would be. If they could have known, perhaps they would have passed Elmhurst without entering.
They were soon at the lodge-house and the neat little woman appeared and opened the gates.
“Good-morning, Mrs. Diggitt,” Gertrude said in her friendly way. “Do you remember us? We are pupils from Linden Hall and we were here recently with Mr. Haley, our riding-master, but to-day we have come to call upon Mr. Ellsworth, if we may.”
There was a surprised expression on the woman’s face, and then she said, “Like as not Mr. Ellsworth will be pleased to see you. Just ride up to the big house and inquire.”
Leaving their horses hitched to the iron posts by the side of the drive, the two girls ascended the broad stone steps and lifted the heavy knocker on the carved oak doors. Then they waited, their hearts fluttering in excitement.
A trim maid appeared and upon hearing that they wished to see Mr. Ellsworth, she bade them enter the library and wait a bit.
The girls were charmed with the high-ceiled, mahogany-furnished room which combined elegance and comfort. A log was burning on the fireplace over which hung the portrait of an old man, whose eyes, under shaggy brows, looked sharply down at them.
“Trudie, if that is a portrait of the gentleman we are calling upon,” Adele said softly, “I think that we would better retreat before he comes in. His face looks so stern that I am sure he will order us out, when you tell him your errand.”
But before they could leave, even if they had so desired, a voice close behind them said, “Good-morning, young ladies. Did you wish to see me?”
Somehow this voice did not sound as gruff as they had expected, and turning, they were indeed surprised to find themselves facing a tall, good-looking lad of about eighteen.
Gertrude’s self-possession never deserted her. “There must be some mistake!” she said. “We came to call upon an elderly gentleman, Mr. Ellsworth, whose portrait, I believe, is hanging over the mantel.”
“Grandfather is dead,” the lad replied, “and my aunt and I have inherited this estate, but won’t you be seated? Aunt Louise will be down directly and she will be glad to make your acquaintance.”
“Mr. Ellsworth,” Gertrude began, “I hardly know how to state our errand, but if you have a moment to spare I would like to tell you a story.”
Then Gertrude told simply all that she knew of little Alise and of her resemblance to the statue. The lad listened with intense interest.
“Tell me the name of the child,” he said when Gertrude paused.
“Alise Alderly,” the girl had just replied when a pale, beautiful woman appeared in the doorway.
“Aunt Louise,” the lad exclaimed, leaping to meet her and taking her hand, “I have news for you, wonderful news! These young ladies are from Linden Hall and they tell me that there is a child attending the school named Alise Alderly.”
The woman, her sweet face flushed with eagerness, held out both hands to the girls, who had risen. “Do tell me about her!” she begged. “Just before my father died, he tried to tell me what he had done with my dear sister’s baby, but he was so weak that he could not. We have searched everywhere for the past three months but have found no trace of her.”
The girls were touched by the charming woman’s emotion and being again reseated, Gertrude told all that she knew of the orphan child.
A happy light shone in the face of the listener as the story progressed, and when it was finished, she turned to her nephew, with tears in her eyes, as she said, “Arthur, I am convinced that we have found my sister’s little one. Please order my car. I must visit Linden Hall at once and make further inquiries. If it is my dear sister’s child, oh, how happy, happy I shall be!”
When the girls were again on the highway, riding toward the farm beyond Elmhurst, Gertrude exclaimed, “If Alise is really related to that lovely woman and fine lad, how glad I will be that we were brave enough to make that visit, and I will now confess that I did dread meeting the stern old gentleman, especially after seeing his portrait.”
“I wish we might become better acquainted with the Ellsworths,” Adele said. “They are such charming people.”
This wish was to be fulfilled in a most delightful way.