"He's exactly like a human being, isn't he Bet?" remarked Shirley with a smile.
"Half the time I pretend he is human. I tell him all my secrets and all my happy surprises and even my troubles. And when I'm blue, he does my howling for me. Truly he does. He can't bear to see me sad."
"He's a wise dog. No one should be sad. I'm glad I'm alive! Right now I want to dance and shout, I'm so happy!"
"Go to it, Joy!" laughed Bet. "No one will stop you!"
The girl worked off her enthusiasm with a few well executed handsprings and cartwheels. "I'd better get rid of some of this energy or I may wreck the Manor!"
As they came in sight of the Manor, Auntie Gibbs, the housekeeper, was looking anxiously from the kitchen door, for the cloud that had been threatening, now opened with a deluge of rain and peal after peal of thunder sent the girls scurrying toward the side entrance.
Smiley Jim was already on the veranda, having deposited his burden, he was now barking excitedly, demanding the attention that he felt he merited.
Merriweather Manor dominated the hill, it occupied the very highest point of the estate and from its walls the ground sloped away, at one side, straight down to the high bank above the river. Century-old elms overshadowed the house and half hid the fine lines of the famous Colonial structure.
The Manor had been built by Lord Cecil Merriweather before the Revolution and had been kept up without being remodelled. It almost seemed as if its old timbers had retained the gay atmosphere that Lord Cecil and his lady had bequeathed it.
The front of the house stood out boldly with its great pillars. Along the side, double verandas ran the length of the house. These were the delight of Bet, for they had been her playground since babyhood.
The interior was no less attractive. Colonel Baxter was a collector of Colonial antiques and knick-knacks and the house was furnished with genuine old furniture that delighted his heart and kept the spirit of Colonial times in the mansion.
If Bet had been given her way she might have chosen for her own suite of rooms, something more modern, but even she had never dared to mention such a thing to the Colonel.
But if Colonel Baxter leaned toward the old fashions in his furnishing of a home, his methods in training a daughter were modern to an extreme. Auntie Gibbs declared it was without "rhyme or reason." "Letting a girl do as she pleases isn't bringing up at all. That child should have a strong hand to guide her. Every child should. And me, who could do it, ain't allowed no say-so."