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diff --git a/33554-h/33554-h.htm b/33554-h/33554-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a218d47 --- /dev/null +++ b/33554-h/33554-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8537 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Nancy of Paradise Cottage, by Shirley Watkins +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Nancy of Paradise Cottage, by Shirley Watkins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Nancy of Paradise Cottage + +Author: Shirley Watkins + +Release Date: August 27, 2010 [EBook #33554] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NANCY OF PARADISE COTTAGE *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +Nancy +<BR> +<I>of</I> +<BR> +Paradise Cottage +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +<I>by</I> +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SHIRLEY WATKINS +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING COMPANY +<BR> +CHICAGO +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY +<BR> +GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY +<BR><BR> +<I>All rights reserved</I> +<BR> +Printed in U. S. A. +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE HEROINE GOES TO MARKET</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">INSIDE THE COTTAGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">A MODERN CINDERELLA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">LADIES OF FASHION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">A RETICENT GENTLEMAN—AND MISS BANCROFT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">MISS BANCROFT BEARDS THE OGRE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">A MAN OF "PRINCIPLES"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">THE FIRST NIGHT AT SCHOOL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">A QUARREL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">THE OGRE REAPPEARS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">ALMA MAKES COMPLICATIONS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">ALMA IN A SCRAPE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">NANCY HAS A GREAT ADVENTURE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">PARADISE COTTAGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE MR. PRESCOTT</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +Nancy of Paradise Cottage +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE HEROINE GOES TO MARKET +</H4> + +<P> +"Let's see—bacon, eggs, bread, sugar, two cans of corn, and jam. Have +I gotten everything, Alma?" Nancy, checking off the items in her +marketing list, looked over toward her sister, who had wandered to the +door and stood gazing out into the street where a gentle September rain +was falling. Alma did not answer, seeming to have gone into a dream, +and the grocer waited patiently, his pencil poised over his pad. +</P> + +<P> +"Alma, do wake up! Have I forgotten anything? I'm sure there was +something else," said Nancy, frowning, and studying her list, with her +under lip thrust forward. "I regularly go and forget something every +Saturday night, when there's no Hannah to concoct something out of +nothing for Sunday luncheon." +</P> + +<P> +"You said you were going to bake a cake—a chocolate layer cake," +suggested Alma, turning, and viewing the proceeding disinterestedly +with her hands in her pockets. +</P> + +<P> +"That's it. I have to get flour, and some cooking chocolate, and +vanilla. Alma, you've got to help me carry these things. I'm not +Goliath." +</P> + +<P> +"Mercy, Nancy, we don't have to take all that home with us, do we? +Can't you send them, Mr. Simpson?" +</P> + +<P> +The grocer shrugged apologetically. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Saturday, Miss Prescott, and the last delivery went out at +three—all my boys have gone home now or I'd try to accommodate you." +</P> + +<P> +"I do hate to go about looking like an old market woman, with my arms +full of brown paper parcels," murmured Alma, <I>sotto voce</I> to her sister. +</P> + +<P> +"Goodness, I don't imagine there'll be a grand stand along the way, +with thousands watching us through opera glasses," laughed Nancy. +"Would you mind telling me whom you expect to meet who'd faint with +genteel horror because we take home our Sunday dinner? I don't intend +to starve to spare anybody's feelings." +</P> + +<P> +"Last week I was dragging along a bag of potatoes—and—and I met Frank +Barrows. And the bag split while I was talking to him, and those +hateful potatoes went bumping around all over the pavement. I never +was so mortified in my life," said Alma, sulkily. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy shot a keen glance at her sister's pretty face, and her eyes +twinkled. Alma's shortage of the American commodity called humor was a +source of continual quiet joy to Nancy, who was the only member of the +Prescott family with the full-sized endowment of that gift. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear me, whatever did Frank do? Scream and cover his eyes from the +awful sight? Had he never seen a raw potato in all his sheltered young +life?" +</P> + +<P> +Alma shrugged her shoulders—a slight gesture with which she and her +mother were wont to express their hopeless realization of Nancy's lack +of finer feelings. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't suppose you would have minded it. But <I>I</I> hate to look +ridiculous, particularly before anyone like Frank Barrows." +</P> + +<P> +"But, Alma, you funny girl, don't you see that you look a thousand +times more ridiculous when you act as if a few potatoes bouncing about +were something serious? Don't tell me you stood there gazing off +haughtily into the blue distance while Frank gathered up your silly old +potatoes? Or did you disown them? Or did you play St. Elizabeth, and +expect a miracle to turn them into roses so that they would be less +offensive to Frank's aristocratic eyes? Come on now, help me shoulder +our provisions. We're members of the Swiss Family Robinson, going back +to our hut with our spoils. Pretend we're savages, and this is a +desert island, and not respectable Melbrook at all. Next time we go +marketing you can disguise yourself with a beard and blue goggles." +</P> + +<P> +Alma laughed unwillingly. She was a dainty and singularly pretty +girl—a little bit foolish, and a good bit of a snob, but Nancy adored +her, though she enjoyed making good-natured digs at Alma's weak spots. +</P> + +<P> +They took up their bundles, said good-night to Mr. Simpson, and went +out. +</P> + +<P> +It was a walk of three miles from the village—or, as it preferred to +be called—the town of Melbrook to the Prescotts' house, which lay in +the country beyond, a modest little nest enough, where the two girls +had grown up almost isolated by their poverty from the gay life of the +younger Melbrookians. Alma chafed unhappily against this isolation, +chafed against every reminder of their poverty, and, like her mother, +once a beauty and a belle, craved the excitement of admiration, luxury +and fine things. She was ashamed of the little house, which was +shabby, it is true, ashamed of having to wear old clothes, and made +herself wretched by envying the richer girls of the neighborhood their +beautiful houses, their horses and their endless round of gay times. +As Nancy once told her mother, in affectionate reproof, they were +always trying to "play rich"—Mrs. Prescott and Alma. She had tried to +teach Alma her own secret of finding life pleasant; but Alma did not +love books, nor long solitary walks through the summer woods; and +Nancy's ambition of fitting herself to meet the world and make her own +living seemed to both Alma and her mother dreary and unfeminine. +Somewhere, in the back of her pretty head, Mrs. Prescott cherished the +hope and the belief that the two girls would find some way of coming +into what she called "their own"—not by Nancy's independent plan of +action, but through some easier, pleasanter course. She shuddered at +the idea of their making their own living, and opposed Nancy's wish to +go to college on the ground that no men liked blue-stocking women, and +that therefore Nancy would be an old maid. +</P> + +<P> +"But, Mother darling, we can't just sit back and wait for some young +millionaire to come and carry us off?" Nancy would plead, shaking her +head. Time was flying, and Nancy was seventeen, and eager to begin her +own life. "Let me go—I can work my way through, and Alma can stay at +home with you." +</P> + +<P> +"I need you to help me with Alma," was Mrs. Prescott's answer. Nancy +felt helpless. Her father, before her, had to his sorrow recognized +the hopelessness of driving any common-sense views into Mrs. Prescott's +pretty, silly little head. She had never realized that the decline of +the family's fortune had been, in no small measure, due to her. She +accounted for it on the grounds of old Mr. Thomas Prescott's inhuman +stubbornness and selfishness. +</P> + +<P> +The two girls, leaving the village behind them, were walking briskly +through the rain, down the main road, bordered by the imposing country +estates of people who had gradually settled on the pretty countryside. +Nancy could remember when the hill, where now stood a staring white +stone mansion, surrounded by close-clipped lawns and trim gardens, had +been a wild, lovely swell of meadow, dotted with clusters of oaks and +elms; when in place of the smug little bungalow, with its artificial +pond and waterfall, and ornate stone fences, there had been a wooded +copse, where squirrels scuttled about among branches of trees, since +fallen in the path of a moneyed civilization. Other of the houses, of +haughty Mansard architecture, had stood there before she had been born, +and it had often seemed to her that the huge, solemn, beautiful old +place of Mr. Thomas Prescott had been there since the Creation. As +they passed it, they slackened their pace, and despite the weight of +bundles which grew heavier every minute, stopped and peered through the +bars of the great, wrought-iron gates. +</P> + +<P> +A broad drive, meticulously raked and weeded, wound away from them +under magnificent arching trees, to the portals—Nancy said it would +have been impossible to consider Uncle Thomas's door anything but a +portal—which were just visible under the low-hanging branches. The +rest of the old stone house was screened from the rude gaze of prying +eyes, like the face of a faded dowager of the harem; save for the upper +half of a massive Norman tower, which thrust itself up out of the nest +of green leaves, like the neck of some inquisitive, prehistoric bird. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe Uncle Thomas has passed through these gates in fifteen +years," said Nancy. "One could almost believe that he had really died +and had had himself buried on the grounds, like the eccentric old +recluse he is." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, they would have had to have done something with all his money," +replied Alma, pressing her forehead against the iron bars; "unless he +left everything to his butler, and had the will read in secret. It +would be just like him. Oh, Nancy, why are there such selfish old +misers in the world? Just think—if he'd just give us the least little +bit of all his money. Just enough to get a horse and carriage, and buy +some nice clothes, and—and get a pretty house. It wouldn't be +anything to him. Mamma says she is sure that he will relent some day." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy shrugged her shoulders. To her mind, it was foolish of her +mother to put any hopes on the whims of an old eccentric. Mrs. +Prescott was one of those poor optimists who believe earnestly in the +miracles of chance, always forgetting that chance works its miracles as +a rule only when the way has been prepared for them by the plodding +labor of common sense. +</P> + +<P> +"We mustn't count on that, Alma," she said soberly. "There is no use +in living on the possibility that Uncle Thomas will relent, and make us +rich. It isn't just for the pure love of money that he has been so +stingy toward us, I believe. He was never a miser toward Father, you +know. I—I think he would have given us everything in the world +if—if——" She hesitated, unwilling to state her private opinion to +Alma. +</P> + +<P> +"If what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you see, I think the trouble was this. Come along, we mustn't +wait here, or you'll catch cold." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think the trouble was?" prompted Alma, padding after her +sister, and sloshing placidly through the puddles, in all the +nonchalant confidence of sound rubbers. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Alma, you mustn't misunderstand me. I'm afraid you will. You +know how I adore Mother. She's so pretty, and—and childlike, and +funny that nobody on earth could ever blame her——" +</P> + +<P> +"Blame her? For what?" cried Alma, with sudden fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing. Only, Alma, we must realize that sometimes Mother makes +little mistakes, and I believe that she has had to pay more heavily for +them than she deserves. We've got to try to protect her against them, +by looking at life squarely, and wisely, Alma——" +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to preach a sermon? What were you going to say about +Uncle Thomas?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just this. You know Uncle Thomas was a very clever man. He made +every bit of his money himself. Father told me long ago that when +Uncle Thomas began in life he did not have a cent in the world; he +started out as a plain mill-hand, and then he became a mechanic, and he +worked his way up from one rung to another, until through his own +talent and pluck he became very, very rich. Well, it's only natural +that a man like that should give money its full value—when he's toiled +for years at so many cents an hour, he knows just exactly how many +cents there are in a dollar. Perhaps he puts too great a value upon +it, but certainly we aren't judges of that. You know that Uncle Thomas +never married, and when Grandfather died, Uncle Thomas became Daddy's +guardian. I believe he loved Father better than anyone in the world. +Who could help it?" Nancy's voice trembled slightly, and she winked +back the tears which rose to her eyes at the memory of her father's +handsome merry face, which had grown so unaccountably saddened and worn +before his early death. +</P> + +<P> +"He gave Father everything he wanted, when he was a boy—you know how +Daddy used to tell us how Uncle Thomas would tiptoe up to his room at +night and slip gold pieces into his stocking, so that he could find +them in the morning, and then when Daddy asked him about it, he would +shrug his shoulders, and his eyes would twinkle, and he'd say, 'It must +have been Brownies.'" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't imagine how a man who used to be like that could ever have +grown so hard and bitter," said Alma. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—then, you see, when Father grew up, Uncle wanted him to be +successful for himself. And he was terribly proud of Father when Daddy +first came back and told him that he had made five thousand dollars in +his first year at business. Then Father told him that he was going to +be married. Uncle didn't want him to—not until he had definitely +settled himself in life. And then, Father was very young, and Mother +only a girl of seventeen—think of it, just my age. But when Uncle saw +Mother, he adored her, of course." Nancy paused, and seemed to have +forgotten the rest of her story, but Alma prompted her curiously. She +had never heard this tale before, for Nancy had gleaned it bit by bit +from her father, when they used to take long walks together through the +country, and, putting two and two together, she had been able to get +rather close to the real truth of things. +</P> + +<P> +"I know Uncle adored Mother," said Alma, kicking through a pile of wet +leaves. "He gave her those lovely Italian earrings, which I'm to have +when I'm eighteen. And all that wonderful Venetian lace, which the +first one of us to be married is going to have for her wedding gown." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Well, then—then after Father and Mother were married things +didn't go so very well. Mother was just a girl—just my age, you know, +only she was pretty, like you, and, I suppose, a little extravagant. +At least, they weren't able to make ends meet very well, although Daddy +made a good income—and, anyhow, Uncle Thomas would have thought her +extravagant. He didn't see why it was necessary for her to send for +her clothes to Paris, and why Father was always worried about bills, +when he should have been able to live well within his income. Anyway, +Father wasn't able to save a cent, and one day Uncle Thomas came to him +and said that he had a very good opportunity for him to invest his +savings, so that they would draw a much better income than what they +were giving. The only trouble was that Father didn't have any savings. +Then Uncle became furious; he asked Father and Mother what kind of +future they thought they were laying up for us, and he scolded Mother +terribly for not helping Father. He quoted the Bible about women being +the helpmeet of their husbands, and about the parents eating sour +grapes and setting the children's teeth on edge. He said that they +were taking the path to ruin, and that Father could expect no help from +him unless he and Mother economized. But you see, poor Mother always +considered Paris dresses and jewellery and expensive dainties the +necessities and not just the luxuries of life. I don't suppose she +really understood how to economize at all. And anyway, things got +worse instead of better. Then, one year, Daddy lost an awful lot of +money trying to make some quickly so that he could get his debts +cleared up, and start fresh. Instead, he only got in deeper. And—and +then he fell ill. And you remember, Alma, when poor Father was dying, +Uncle came. And he cried and cried. But when Mother came into the +room, he got up and went out, and shut the door behind him. Then he +shut the gates of his house against us, too. I think he feels that +we—we girls must learn to look at life seriously, to work out our own +futures—so that poverty will teach us to be wiser than—than poor, +darling little Mother——" Nancy's voice had sunk, as if she were +talking to herself, so that Alma barely heard the last words. She was +thinking of Alma, wondering how she could teach her luxury-loving +little sister to see life practically, without taking away the joy of +it from her. +</P> + +<P> +"We mustn't rely on Uncle Thomas, Alma," she said presently. "We +mustn't count on anything but what we can do for ourselves. Remember +that, dear. We've got to realize that our lives must run a different +course from those of richer girls—we can never do the things they +do—but surely they will be richer lives, and happier lives, if—if we +rely on no one, ask nothing from anyone, but what we earn"—her head +went up—"never struggle for, or want the things that lie beyond our +means, but make always the opportunities that lie within our grasp, or +<I>the ones that we can make for ourselves</I>, serve as stepping stones." +</P> + +<P> +Alma glanced at her sister's sober, handsome face. There were times +when Nancy looked to her like some brave, gallant, sturdy lad, and +there were times when she agreed with Nancy in spite of herself, and +against her own inclinations. +</P> + +<P> +"Here we are—home again. And if it isn't the snuggest, cosiest, most +cheerful burrow between here and Melbrook, why"—Nancy strode gaily up +the little brick walk with her long, boyish strides, and breaking into +a laugh, finished, "I'll beard the Prescott himself—tower, donjon-keep +and all!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +INSIDE THE COTTAGE +</H4> + +<P> +It was what Nancy called the pluperfect hour of the day; that is, of a +rainy day. The curtains of the living-room were drawn over the +windows, the mellow lamplight dealing kindly with their faded folds. +The rain, which had brought with it an early autumn chill, beat +rhythmically against the panes, and gurgled contentedly from a water +spout, as if it were revelling in the fact that it had had the whole +countryside to itself for four-and-twenty hours. +</P> + +<P> +Alma had washed her yellow hair, and had built a fire to dry it by. +Nancy, in her dressing-gown and slippers, with her own brown mane +braided into a short, thick club, was icing the chocolate cake, helping +herself generously to the scrapings in the earthenware bowl. Mrs. +Prescott was embroidering. This was her greatest accomplishment, +learned in a French convent. Knitting bored her to death, and darning +drove her crazy, but she could sit by the hour stitching infinitesimal +petals on microscopic flowers, and turning out cake mats, tea-cloths +and fancy collars by the score. Faded only slightly by her forty-odd +years, she was still an exquisitely pretty woman, with a Dresden-china +face, marred ever so little by the fine lines which drooped from the +corners of her delicate nose to the corners of her childish mouth. Her +golden hair was barely silvered, her skin as fresh and rosy as Alma's, +and her round little wrists, and pink-tipped fingers, Alma might have +envied. The lacy dressing-gown she wore, which, at the slightest +motion, shook out a faint little whiff of some expensive French +perfume, struck an odd note in the shabby room, where the couch sadly +displayed a broken spring, and not the most careful placing of +furniture that Nancy could devise entirely concealed the holes in the +faded carpet. +</P> + +<P> +"We ought to put a glass cover over Mother, the way some people cover +French clocks," Nancy said laughingly. "You're much too valuable to +get any of the dust of every-day life on you, Mamma." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm getting old, my dear. I only think of my daughters now," said +Mrs. Prescott, with a little sigh and pushing a curly wisp of hair back +from her face. "I shall be putting on spectacles soon." +</P> + +<P> +"Catch you! You'd go blind as a bat before you'd do any such violence +to your beauty. You're like Alma. I had to argue for half an hour +to-day to make Alma wear her raincoat. It wasn't becoming, and she'd +far rather die of pneumonia than look like a——" +</P> + +<P> +"A hippopotamus," said Alma. "That's what I look like in the old +thing. The sleeves dangle over my hands like a fire hose." +</P> + +<P> +"Nancy, I've come to a definite conclusion in regard to you and Alma, +for this winter," said Mrs. Prescott, laying down her embroidery and +trying to look practical and decided. +</P> + +<P> +"How much will it cost?" Nancy's eyes twinkled. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not a question of money." +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing ever is—with Mamma and Alma," Nancy thought, but she was +silent, and continued to lick the chocolate off her spoon composedly. +</P> + +<P> +"I have thought the whole thing over very carefully, and I am quite +sure that the matter of money must not be weighed against the value +which it would have for you girls." +</P> + +<P> +"It's not a trip to Europe, is it, Mamma?" asked Alma, quite as if she +expected that this might be the case. Indeed, a trip to Europe would +have been no more incredible to Nancy than her mother's plan, which +Mrs. Prescott proceeded to unfold. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, my dears, living as we do, you girls are absolutely cut off +from the opportunities which are so essential to every girl's success +in life. This has been a great worry to me. You are growing older, +and you are forming no acquaintances that will be of value to you. For +this reason I have decided that the expense of sending you both—for a +last year, you understand—to a good school, a smart school, a school +where Alma can meet girls who will count for something in social +life—is an expense that must be met." +</P> + +<P> +"But—heavens, we've had all the ordinary schooling we need," exclaimed +Nancy in amazement. "If—if I could just have a few months' tutoring +so that I could take my college exams in the spring—I could work my +way through college easily——" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want you to go to college, Nancy," said Mrs. Prescott +irritably. "What in the world is the use of a whole lot of ologies and +isms—and ruining your looks over a lot of senseless analyzing and +dissecting and everything——" +</P> + +<P> +"I won't be studying anything useless, Mother dearest. But don't you +see that it will be ever so much easier for me to get a position as a +teacher if I can show a Bachelor's degree instead of just a smattering +of French, or a thimbleful of ancient history?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's no reason why you should think of becoming a teacher," +answered Mrs. Prescott. "And I wish you wouldn't talk about it—it's +so dreadfully drab and gloomy." +</P> + +<P> +"But I want to make my living in some way." +</P> + +<P> +"If you and Alma marry well, there won't be any reason why you should +make your living." +</P> + +<P> +"But, Mother, we can't count on chance, like that. Suppose Alma and I +never met a rich man whom we could love—we'd be helpless." +</P> + +<P> +"A year at Miss Leland's will give both of you plenty of opportunities. +You'll meet girls there whom you ought to know, girls who will invite +you to their houses, through whom you'll meet eligible young men——" +</P> + +<P> +"The expense of paying for board and tuition at Miss Leland's would be +the least of the digging we'd have to do into the family purse. We'd +be under obligations to people, which we would never be in a position +to repay—we'd be no better than plain, ordinary sponges. I—I +couldn't bear it. Besides, the fees at Miss Leland's are terribly +high. I could go to college for almost two years on what I'd pay for +one year at Miss Leland's—and all that we'd get at that school would +be a little French, a smattering of history, dancing and fudge parties." +</P> + +<P> +"And extremely desirable acquaintances." +</P> + +<P> +"But, Mother, we'd never be able to keep up with them on their own +scale of living," pleaded Nancy, with a hopeless conviction in her +heart that she was talking to the winds. "Girls like Elise +Porterbridge and Jane Whiteright have an allowance of a hundred a +month, and anything else they want, when they've spent it." +</P> + +<P> +"You've got money on the brain, Nancy," said Alma, shaking her curls +off her face. "You are a regular old miser." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you're right, perhaps. I—I hate to, heaven knows, but we do +have to think about it, Alma. It's the poor gamblers who are always +counting on a lucky chance that are ruined. I want to be prepared for +the worst—and then if something nice turns up, why, wouldn't that be +ten times better than if, when we had been counting on the best, the +worst should happen?" +</P> + +<P> +"You see, dears," Mrs. Prescott had entirely missed the point of +Nancy's last remark, "Uncle Thomas is very old, and I am sure—I am +<I>quite</I> sure that he will relent." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mother!" Poor Nancy flung up both hands in despair. +</P> + +<P> +"I have entered you both at Miss Leland's, so, really, there is no use +in arguing about it any more. And I've already sent the check for the +first term. Everything is decided. I didn't tell you until to-night, +just because I was afraid that this hard-headed old Nancy of mine would +try to argue me out of it; when I <I>know</I> that it's the best and wisest +thing to do. Nancy, darling, please don't scowl like that. You aren't +angry with Mother, are you?" A soft little hand was laid on Nancy's +muscular brown one, and in spite of herself the girl relented, with a +whimsical smile and a sigh. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to see anyone who could be angry with you for two minutes," +she said, burrowing her brown head in the lace on her mother's shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"That nasty old Uncle Thomas has been angry with me for ten years, very +nearly. Isn't he a dreadful old man?" laughed Mrs. Prescott, tweaking +Nancy's ear. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to get a lot of new clothes if we are going to boarding +school." Alma, having spread the towel on the floor, reclined full +length in front of the fire, and meditated with satisfaction on the +delightful prospect. +</P> + +<P> +"Mamma, if I could just once have a hat with a feather on it—a genuine +<I>plume</I>, I'd be happy for the rest of my days." +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't Alma be lovely?" cried Mrs. Prescott delightedly. "Oh, you +don't know how I long to give my daughters everything—everything. One +thing you must have, Alma, is a black velvet dress—made very simply, +of course. They are so serviceable," she flung this sop to Nancy, who, +with her head thrown back, was good-humoredly tracing phantom figures +in the air with her forefinger. +</P> + +<P> +"In for a penny, in for a pound," she observed, agreeably. "Oh, +darling Uncle Thomas, kindly lend us a million. We need it, oh, we +need it—every hour we need it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Let's set one day aside for shopping," was Alma's bright suggestion; +she felt that this would be her element. "We'll go into the city in +the morning, get everything done by noon, lunch at Mailliard's and then +go to a matinée. I haven't seen a play since Papa took us to see +Humpty Dumpty, when Nance and I were little things." +</P> + +<P> +"I've got eighty-three cents," said Nancy. "I'd like to see the color +of <I>your</I> money, ma'am, before we do any gallivanting." +</P> + +<P> +"Well,—I'm not going to sit here gazing at that cake another +minute,—<I>please</I> give me a slice, Nancy, sugar-pie, lambkin,—just a +wee little scrooch of it," begged Alma, snuffing the handsome chocolate +masterpiece of Nancy's culinary skill. Nancy took off a crumb and gave +it to her, which elicited a wail of indignation from Alma. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, here you are. And it'll give you a nice tummy-ache, too," +predicted Nancy, cutting off a generous slice. "Good heavens—there's +the door-bell, Mother!" She stopped, knife in hand and listened, +petrified. "Who on earth can be coming here at this time of night, and +all of us in our dressing-gowns. Alma, you're the most nearly dressed +of all of us. Here, pin up your hair. There it goes again. Fly!" +</P> + +<P> +Alma seized a handful of hairpins, and thrusting them into her hair as +she went, ran out of the room. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy and her mother listened with eyebrows raised. +</P> + +<P> +"Must be a letter or something," Nancy surmised. "You don't +suppose—it couldn't be——" +</P> + +<P> +Alma forestalled her conjectures, whatever they might have been, by +entering the room with her face shining and an opened letter in her +hand. +</P> + +<P> +"It's an <I>invitation</I>, Nancy," she beamed. "Isn't that exciting? +Elise Porterbridge wants us to come to a 'little dance she's giving +next Friday night.' And the chauffeur is waiting for an answer." +</P> + +<P> +"Funny she was in such a hurry," remarked Nancy. "I suppose someone +fell out, and she's trying to get her list made up. What do you think, +Mother?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it's delightful. I want you to know Elise better anyway. You +know her aunt married the Prince Brognelotti, and she will probably do +everything for that girl when she makes her début." Mrs. Prescott +rustled over to the writing-table and despatched a note in her flowing, +pointed hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Hush, Mamma, the chauffeur will hear you," cautioned Nancy with a +slight frown. It always pricked her when Alma or her mother said +snobbish little things, and roused her democratic pride—the stiffest +pride in the world. +</P> + +<P> +"A dance," carolled Alma, when the door had slammed again behind the +emissary of the Porterbridge heiress. "A real, sure enough dance!" +She seized Nancy by the waist and whirled her about; then suddenly she +stopped so abruptly that Nancy bumped hard against the table. Alma's +face was sober, as the great feminine wail rose to her lips: +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't a thing to wear!" +</P> + +<P> +"You must get something, then," said Mrs. Prescott, positively, as if +it were the simplest thing in the world. "I want you to look lovely, +Alma. It's dreadful to think of a girl with your beauty not being able +to appear at your best all the time." Mrs. Prescott had a habit of +speaking to Alma as if she were a petted débutante of nineteen, instead +of just a pretty, care-free youngster of sixteen. She looked at Nancy, +who was the treasurer of the family, much as an impecunious queen might +look at her first Lord of the Exchequer while asking him for funds to +buy a new crown. +</P> + +<P> +"Why can't you wear your blue crepe," was Nancy's unfeeling answer. +"It's very becoming, and you've hardly worn it." +</P> + +<P> +"If you call that an evening dress," Alma cried, on the verge of tears, +"you've a vivid imagination—that's all I've got to say. I just won't +go if I have to look dowdy and home-made. I wouldn't have any kind of +a time—you know that——" +</P> + +<P> +"You could cut out the neck and sleeves, and get a new girdle. I'm +going to do that to my yellow, and with a few flowers—there'll be some +lovely cosmos in the garden—it'll look very nice. And you're sure to +have a good time, no matter what you wear, Alma." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, she can't go if her clothes aren't just right, Nancy—that's all +there is to it," said Mrs. Prescott. +</P> + +<P> +"Clothes," declared Alma, her voice quavering between tears and +indignation, "are the most important things in the world. It doesn't +matter <I>how</I> pretty a girl is—if her dress is dowdy, no one will +notice her." +</P> + +<P> +"And you must remember, Nancy, that she will be compared with girls who +will be sure to be wearing the freshest, smartest and daintiest +things," added Mrs. Prescott. Nancy began to laugh. They argued with +her as if she were some stingy old master of the house instead of a +slip of a girl of seventeen. But there was some truth in what Alma had +said, and Nancy knew what agonies would torment her if she felt that +she fell a whit below any girl at the dance in point of dress. Nancy +could sympathize with her there—only it was quite out of the question +that <I>both</I> she and Alma should have new dresses. She thought hard a +moment. There was not very much left in the family budget to carry +them through the remainder of the month—but then she might let the +grocer's and butcher's bills run over, or, better still, she might +charge at one of the city department stores where the Prescotts still +kept an account. It would be too bad if Alma's first dance should be +spoiled, even if the couch did go in its shabby plush for another month +or so. Five yards of silk would come to about fifteen dollars—new +slippers not less than seven, silk stockings, two—that made +twenty-four dollars—thirty to give a margin for odds and ends like +lining and trimming. Alma would need a pretty evening dress when she +went off to school, and she might as well have it now. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, listen, you poor old darling," she said slowly. "To-day's +Saturday. If we trot in town on Monday and get the material, we could +easily make up a pretty dress for you to wear on Friday night. Let's +see——" +</P> + +<P> +"She could have a pale blue taffeta," Mrs. Prescott suggested, who was +in her element when the subject turned to the matter of clothes, "made +perfectly plain—with a broad girdle—or you could have a girdle and +shoulder-knots of silver ribbon—and wear silver slippers with it. It +would be dear with a round neck, and tiny little sleeves, and a short, +bouffant skirt. You could wear my old rose-colored evening wrap,—it's +still in perfect condition." +</P> + +<P> +"That would be <I>scrumptious</I>!" shrieked Alma, flinging her arms about +them both. "You two are angelic <I>dumplings</I>, that's what you are." +</P> + +<P> +"Monday morning, then," said Nancy. "We'd better take an early train." +</P> + +<P> +When her mother and sister had gone to bed, she took out her little +account book and began to figure, then all at once she flung the pencil +down in disgust at herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Alma's right. I'm turning into a regular old miser. I'm not going to +bother—I'm not going to bother. But—but somebody's <I>got</I> to." She +frowned, staring at the small old-fashioned picture of her father, +which smiled gaily at her from the top of the desk. "You left that +little job to me, didn't you?" she said aloud, and the memory of some +words her father had once spoken to her laughingly came back to her +mind—"You're my eldest son, Nancy—mind you take care of the women." +</P> + +<P> +"Only I'm jolly well sick of being a boy, Daddy," she said, as she +jumped into bed. "I'll let the first person who steps forward take the +job." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A MODERN CINDERELLA +</H4> + +<P> +"Let's take a cab to the station. The roads are awfully wet still, and +I'll ruin my shoes," suggested Alma. The little family were at +breakfast, Nancy and Alma hastily swallowing their coffee so that they +could hurry off to the station. After the fit of autumn wind and rain, +another summer day had come, with a glistening sunlight which was doing +its best to cheer up the drooping flowers in the tiny garden. +</P> + +<P> +"We don't need a cab. What are you talking about?" replied Nancy, +glancing out of the window. "It's a wonderful day, and we don't have +to make for all the puddles on the way to the station like ducks. By +the way, don't let me forget to stop at the bank. I dare say I ought +to take some money with me in case we can't get just what we want at +Frelinghuysen's. How much do you think we should have, Mother?" +</P> + +<P> +"Seventy-five dollars ought to be enough," said Mrs. Prescott vaguely, +after a moment's calculation. Nancy whooped. +</P> + +<P> +"Seventy-five! Good gracious—why, if I spend a cent over forty, we'll +have to live on bread and water for the rest of the month!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, just as you think, dear—you know best, of course," Mrs. +Prescott answered absently. "You two had better be starting. I wish +you would get Alma a new hat while you're in town, Nancy. I don't +quite like that one she has—it doesn't go with her suit." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy pushed her chair back from the table. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll trot out and see Hannah a moment. We have about thirty-five +minutes, Alma." +</P> + +<P> +It took them twenty minutes to walk to the station. Alma was in high +spirits, Nancy still thoughtful. But the wind was up and out, tossing +the trees, rippling the puddles, which reflected a clear, sparkling +sky, and the riotous, care-free mood of the morning was infectious. +</P> + +<P> +As the train sped through the open country, passing stretches of +yellowing fields, clusters of woodland and busy little villages, Alma +chattered joyously: +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you awfully glad about the party, Nancy? Don't you think we +can go to a matinée—it's such a deliciously idle, luxurious sort of +thing to do! I'm going to have chicken patties for luncheon, and lots +of that scrumptious chocolate icecream that's almost black. Don't you +love restaurant food, Nancy? It's such fun to sit and watch the +people, and wonder what they are going to do after luncheon, and what +they are saying to each other, and where they live. When I'm married I +shall certainly live in town, and I'll have a box at the opera, and +I'll carry a pair of those eye-glasses on jewelled +sticks—what-do-you-call-'ems—and every morning I'll go down-town in +my car and shop, and then I'll meet my husband for luncheon at Sherry's +or the Plaza." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you'll have a country-place on Long Island," suggested +Nancy, with good-natured irony, which Alma took quite seriously. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes. With terraces and Italian gardens. I <I>would</I> love to be +seen standing in a beautiful garden, with broad marble steps, and rows +of poplar trees, and a sun-dial——" +</P> + +<P> +"For whose benefit?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my own." +</P> + +<P> +"We're feeling rich to-day, aren't we?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I don't know anything that feels better than to be going to buy +a new dress. Shall we get the hat too, Nancy?" +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think?" +</P> + +<P> +Alma hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I suppose we'd better wait. It's funny how when you start +spending money at all you want to get everything under the sun. Of +course, girls like Elise or Jane <I>do</I> get everything they want——" +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly. And when you're with them you feel that you must let go, +too. And if you can't afford it——" Nancy shrugged her shoulders, +and Alma finished for her: +</P> + +<P> +"It makes you miserable." +</P> + +<P> +"Or else," said Nancy, with a curl of the lip, "or else, if you aren't +bothered with any too much pride, you'll do what that Margot Cunningham +does. She simply camps on the Porterbridges. Elise is so good-natured +that she lets Margot buy everything she likes and charge it to her, and +Margot finds life so comfy there that she can't tear herself away. I'd +rather work my fingers to the bone than take so much as a pair of +gloves given to me out of good-natured charity!" Nancy's eyes +sparkled. Alma was silent. There were times when Nancy's fierce, +stubborn pride frightened her—sometimes the way her sister's lips +folded together, and her small, cleft chin was lifted, made her fancy +that there might be a resemblance between Nancy and old Mr. Prescott. +Alma was the butterfly, and Nancy the bee; the butterfly no doubt +wonders why the bee so busily stores away the honey won by thrift and +industry, and, in all probability, the bee reads many a lesson to the +gay-winged idler who clings to the sunny flower. But to-day the bee +relented. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, ma'am, consider yourself the owner of unlimited wealth," said +Nancy, as they swung briskly into the concourse of the Grand Central +Station. "You're a regular Cinderella, and <I>I'm</I> your godmother, who +is going to perform the stupendously brilliant, mystifying act of +turning twenty rolls of sitting-room wall-paper, and three coats of +brown paint into—five yards of superb silk, two silver slippers, two +silk stockings, and three yards of silver ribbon; or, one simple +country maiden into a fashionable miss of entrancing beauty." +</P> + +<P> +"Nancy, you're the most angelic person!" squealed Alma. "But aren't +you going to get yourself something, too? It makes me feel awfully +mean to get new things when you have to wear that dowdy old yellow +thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Dowdy, indeed. It's grand. 'Miss Nancy Prescott was charming in a +simple gown of mousseline-de-soie, which hung in the straight lines now +so much in vogue. Her only ornaments were a bouquet of rare flowers, +contrasting exquisitely with the shade of her frock,—a toilette of +unusual chic. Miss Alma Prescott, Melbrook's noted beauty, was superb +in a lavish creation'—You're going to be awfully lavish, and quite the +belle of the ball." +</P> + +<P> +"You ought to have some new slippers, Nancy—a pair of gold ones would +absolutely <I>make</I> your dress." +</P> + +<P> +"My black ones are all right. I'll put fresh bows on them," said +Nancy, firm as a Trojan outwardly, though within her resolution +wavered. Dared she take another seven dollars? She began to feel +reckless. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you waited on, madam?" The smooth voice of a saleswoman roused +her from her calculations. +</P> + +<P> +"We want to see some blue taffeta—not awfully expensive." +</P> + +<P> +"Step this way. We have something exquisite—five dollars a yard." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, haven't you anything less than that?" stammered Nancy in dismay. +Alma glanced at her reprovingly. +</P> + +<P> +"For heaven's sake, don't sound as if you hadn't a dollar to your name, +or she'll just right-about-face and walk off," she whispered. "We'll +<I>look</I> at the expensive silk, and then work around to the +cheaper—explain that it's more what we want, and so on." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and the cheaper silk will look so impossible after we've seen the +other that we'll be taking it," returned Nancy. "<I>I</I> know their wiles." +</P> + +<P> +"Here is a beautiful material—quite new," lured the saleswoman. "A +wonderful shade. It will be impossible to duplicate. See how it +falls—as softly and gracefully as satin, but with more body to it. +The other is much stiffer." +</P> + +<P> +"How—how much is it?" asked Nancy feebly. +</P> + +<P> +"Five-ninety-eight. It's special, of course. Later on the regular +price will be six-fifty." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it <I>lovely</I>?" breathed Alma, touching the gleaming stuff with +careful fingers. +</P> + +<P> +"Have—have you anything for about three dollars a yard?" asked Nancy, +wishing that Alma would do the haggling sometimes. +</P> + +<P> +The saleswoman listlessly unrolled a yard or two from another bolt and +held it up. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it for yourself, madam? Or for the other young lady?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's for my sister. Let me hold this against your hair, Alma." +</P> + +<P> +"It's not nearly so nice as the other, of course," observed Alma, in a +casual tone. "It's awfully stiff, and the color's sort of washed out. +I really think——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, of course, this paler shade is not nearly so effective at night," +agreed the saleswoman, pouncing keenly upon her prey. "See how +beautifully this deeper color brings out the gold in the young lady's +hair. Would you like to take it to the mirror, miss?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't, Alma!" begged Nancy, in comical despair. "Of course there +isn't any comparison." She felt herself weakening. "I—I suppose this +would really wear better too." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it would," said Alma, quickly. "That other stuff is so +stiff it would split in no time." +</P> + +<P> +Five times five-ninety-eight—thirty dollars. Nancy wrinkled her +forehead, but she knew that she had succumbed even before she announced +her surrender. The saleswoman, watching her, lynx-eyed, smiled. Alma +preened herself in front of the long mirror, frankly admiring herself, +with the soft, silken stuff draped around her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," said Nancy. "Give me five yards." +</P> + +<P> +"Charged?" purred the saleswoman. But Nancy had no mind to have the +gray ghost of her extravagance revisit her on the first of the month. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no! I'll pay for it, and take it with me." She counted out her +little roll of bills, trying not to notice the pitiable way in which +her purse shrank in, like the cheeks of a hungry man. +</P> + +<P> +"Is there nothing you would like for yourself, madam?" murmured the +voice of the temptress. "Here is some ravishing charmeuse—the true +ashes-of-roses. With your dark hair and eyes——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no—no, thanks." Nancy clutched Alma, and turned her head away +from the shimmering, pearl-tinted fabric. For all her stiff +level-headedness, she was only human, and a girl with a healthy, ardent +longing for beautiful finery; prudent she was, but prudence soon +reaches its limits when the pressure of feminine vanity and exquisite +luxury is brought to bear upon it. There was only one course of +resistance. Nancy fled. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, slippers." Alma skipped along beside her, hugging her precious +bundles, with shining eyes, and cheeks aglow. "I think I love slippers +better than anything in the world. Nancy, you're a perfect <I>lamb</I>." +</P> + +<P> +They tried on slippers. Certainly Alma's tiny foot and slender ankle +was a delightful object to contemplate as she turned it this way and +that before the little mirror. +</P> + +<P> +"If you had a little buckle, miss—we have some very new rhinestone +ornaments—I'd like to show you one—a butterfly set in a fan of silver +lace. Just a moment." +</P> + +<P> +Before Nancy could stop her the saleswoman had gone. +</P> + +<P> +"We won't get the buckles, you dear old thing," Alma said consolingly, +bending the sole of her foot. "We'll just look at them." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy smiled wryly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd <I>like</I> to get you everything in the shop—I hate to be stingy with +you, dear; it's just this old thing," and she held up the shabby purse. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Isn't</I> that perfectly gorgeous?" shrieked Alma, as the saleswoman +held a little jewelled dragon-fly, poised on a spray of silver lace, +against her instep. +</P> + +<P> +"Gorgeous," echoed Nancy. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a very chic trimming—of course we use it only on the handsomer +slippers," chanted the saleswoman. "Now, we could put that on for you +in five minutes, and really the expense would be small, considering +that nothing more would be needed as an ornament, and it would be the +smartest thing to wear—no trimming on the dress whatever." +</P> + +<P> +"How much would it be?" asked Alma. "I—I can't take it now, but +later——" +</P> + +<P> +"The buckles are five dollars, and with the lace fan it would come to +seven. I would advise you—the prices will go up in another month——" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Alma——" Nancy hesitated, made one last frantic grasp at her +fleeting prudence and surrendered. "Fourteen dollars. All right. You +can take the buckles as a Christmas present from me. I'll pay for +those, and we'll be back for them after we've got some other things." +</P> + +<P> +"Nancy, you angel! You lamb! You duck! You angelic dumpling!" crowed +Alma. "I never felt so absolutely luxurious in all my life." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't imagine you ever did," remarked Nancy; she was aghast at her +own extravagance. She judged herself harshly as the victim of the +failing which she had so long combatted in her mother and sister. +Every atom of the prudence with which she had armed herself seemed to +be melting away like wax before a furnace. She had already spent +forty-four dollars, and there was still the silver ribbon to be bought, +which would bring the sum up to forty-five at the very least. She had +originally intended to buy one or two small items with which to freshen +up her own dress for the dance, but she stubbornly put aside the idea. +</P> + +<P> +"Nancy, darling, aren't you going to get yourself some slippers?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—I don't need them. The ones I have are quite good." +</P> + +<P> +"I feel so mean, Nancy. Do you think I'm horribly selfish?" +</P> + +<P> +"Selfish! You aren't the least bit selfish, dear. I can understand +perfectly how you hate to go among all those rich girls without looking +as well-dressed as any of them, when you're a thousand times prettier +than the nicest looking one of them. Besides, just this once——" She +paused, realizing that it was not a case of "just this once" at all. +Pretty, new clothes and pocket money would be the barest necessities +when they should be at Miss Leland's. Why didn't her mother see the +folly of sending them to a place where they would learn to want things, +actually to need things, far beyond the reach of their little bank +account, and where Alma, chumming with girls who had everything that +feminine fancy could desire, would either be made miserable, or—she +tried to rout her own practical thoughts. Why was it that she was so +unwilling to trust in rosy chance? Why was it always she who had to +bring the wet blanket of harsh common sense to dampen her mother's and +sister's debonair trust in a smiling Providence? Was she wrong after +all? She considered the lilies of the field, but somehow she could not +believe that their example was the wisest one for impecunious human +beings to follow. Lilies could live on sun and dew, and they had +nothing to do but wave in the wind. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, look, Nancy—aren't those feather fans exquisite——" +</P> + +<P> +"Alma, don't you dare to peep at another showcase in this store, or +I'll tie my handkerchief over your eyes and lead you out blindfolded +like a horse out of a fire." +</P> + +<P> +"But <I>do</I> look at those darling little bottles of perfume. They're +straight from Paris. I can tell from those adorable boxes with the +orange silk tassels. Wouldn't you give anything on earth to have one? +When I'm rich I'm going to have dozens of bottles—those slender +crystal ones with enamel tops; and they'll stand in a row across the +top of a Louis XVI dressing-table." Nancy smiled at Alma's +ever-recurring phrase, "When I'm rich." She wondered if her butterfly +sister had formed any clear notions of how that beatific state was to +be realized. +</P> + +<P> +"Alma Prescott, there's the door, and thank heaven for it. Have the +goodness, ma'am, to go directly through it. The street is immediately +beyond, and that is the safest place for us two little wanderers at +present." +</P> + +<P> +Forty-five dollars for just one evening's fun. +</P> + +<P> +Gold slippers would have been just the thing to wear with her yellow +dress; but—well—— +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +LADIES OF FASHION +</H4> + +<P> +The little bedroom which Alma and Nancy shared together wore a gaily +topsy-turvy appearance on that memorable night—quite as if it had +succumbed to the mood of flighty joy which was in the air. The +dresser, usually a very model of good order—except when Alma had been +rummaging about it unchecked—was strewn with hairpins, manicuring +implements, snips of ribbon and the stems of fresh flowers; all the +drawers were partly open, projecting at unequal distances, and giving +glimpses of the girls' simple underwear, which had been ruthlessly +overturned in frantic scramblings for such finery as they possessed. A +fresh, slightly scented haze of powder drifted up as Nancy briskly +dusted her arms and shoulders, and then earnestly performed the same +attentions for Alma. Mrs. Prescott sat on the edge of the bed, alive +with interest in the primping, and taking as keen a delight in her +daughters' ball-going as she had done in her own preparations for +conquest twenty years before. As critical as a Parisian modiste, she +cocked her pretty head on one side and surveyed the girls with an +expression of alertness mingled with satisfaction—such as you might +see on the face of a clever business man who watches the promising +development of a smart plan, with elation, though not without an eye +ready to detect the slightest hitch. +</P> + +<P> +Unquestionably she was justified in pinning the highest hopes on Alma's +eventual success in life—if sheer exquisite prettiness can be a safe +guarantee for such. Alma, who had plainly fallen in love with herself, +minced this way and that before the glass, blissfully conscious of her +mother's and sister's unveiled delight in her beauty. Her yellow hair, +bright as gold itself spun into an aura of hazy filaments, was piled up +on top of her head, so that curls escaped against the white, baby-like +nape of her neck. Her dress was truly a masterpiece, and if there had +been a tinge of envy in Nancy's nature she might have regretted the +skill with which she herself had succeeded in setting off Alma's +prettiness, until her own good looks were pale, almost insignificant, +beside it. But Nancy was almost singularly devoid of envy and could +look with the bright, impersonal eyes of a beauty-lover at Alma's +distracting pink and white cheeks, at her blue eyes, which looked black +in the gas-light, and at her round white neck and arms—the dress left +arms and shoulders bare except for the impudent, short puffed sleeves +which dropped low on the shoulder like those of an early Victorian +beauty; anything but Victorian, however, was the brief, bouffant skirt, +which showed the slim ankles and the little, arched feet, in their +handsome slippers. +</P> + +<P> +"You're perfectly—gorgeous, Alma. You've a legitimate right to be +charmed with yourself," said Nancy, sitting down on the bed beside her +mother to enjoy Alma's frank struttings and posings. +</P> + +<P> +"I am nice," agreed Alma naïvely, trying to suppress a smile of +self-approval which, nevertheless, quirked the corners of her lips. +"<I>You</I> did it, though, Nancy darling. I don't forget that, even if I +do seem to be a conceited little thing." She danced over and kissed +Nancy's cheek lightly, her frock enchanting her with its crisp +rustlings as she did so. "Nancy, you <I>will</I> get something nice, +too,—the next time?" +</P> + +<P> +"You should have made up a new dress for to-night, anyhow, Nancy," said +Mrs. Prescott, turning to inspect Nancy's appearance from the top of +her head to the toes of her freshly ribboned slippers. Nancy colored +slightly. It had not been a very easy task to overcome the temptation +to "blow herself," as Alma would have debonairly expressed a foolish +extravagance; and it was not particularly soothing to have that feat of +economy found fault with. +</P> + +<P> +"If—if you think I look too dowdy, I—I'll stay at home, Mother," she +said, in a quiet tone that betrayed a touch of hurt pride. "You know +it was out of the question for me to get another dress, and if you feel +sensitive about my going to people like the Porterbridges in what I've +got, why, it's absurd to attempt it at all." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Prescott was abashed; then in her quick, sweet, impulsive way—so +like that of a thoughtless, lovable little girl—she put her arms +around Nancy's straight young shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be cross with me, darling. I only said that because it hurts me +to think that you have to deny yourself anything in the world. You are +so sweet, and so strong, and—and I love you so, my dear, that I cannot +bear to think of your having to deny yourself the pretty things that +are given to the daughters of so many other women." +</P> + +<P> +Instantly Nancy unbent, and, turning her head so that she could kiss +her mother's soft hair, she whispered, with a tender little laugh: +</P> + +<P> +"Before you begin pitying us, dearest, you can—can just remember that +other women's daughters haven't been given—a mother like you." And +then, because, just like a boy, she felt embarrassed at her own +emotion, and the tears that had gathered in her eyes, she said briskly: +</P> + +<P> +"If anyone should ask me my candid opinion, I'd say that I'm rather +pleased with myself—only some inner voice tells me that I'm not +completely hooked. Here, Mother——" By means of an excruciating +contortion she managed to indicate a small gap in the back of her dress +just between the shoulder blades. +</P> + +<P> +"You do look awfully nice, Nancy," commented Alma; she paused +reflectively a moment, and then added, "You know, I suppose that at +first glance most people would say I was—was the prettier, you +know—because I'm sort of doll-baby-looking, and pink and white, like a +French bonbon; but an artist would think that you were really +beautiful—I hit people in the eye, like a magazine cover, but you grow +on them slowly like a—a Rembrandt or something." +</P> + +<P> +"Whew! We've certainly been throwing each other bouquets broadcast +to-night," laughed Nancy, who was tremendously pleased, nevertheless. +"You'd better put your cloak on, Alma, and stop turning my head around +backwards with your unblushing flattery. Isn't that our coach now?" +</P> + +<P> +The sound of wheels on the wet gravel and the shambling cloppity-clop +of horses' hoofs, had indeed announced the arrival of the "coach." +</P> + +<P> +"Darn it, that idiotic Peterson has sent us the most decrepit old nag +in his stable," remarked Alma, looking out of the window as she slid +her bare arms into the satin-lined sleeves of her wrap. "I think he +calls her 'Dorothea,' which means the 'Gift of God.'" +</P> + +<P> +"She looks like an X-ray picture of a baby dinosaur. I hope to heaven +she won't fall to pieces before we get within walking distance of the +Porterbridges'," said Nancy. "I think that so-called carriage she has +attached to her must be the original chariot Pharaoh used when he drove +after the Israelites." +</P> + +<P> +In a gay mood, the two sisters climbed into the ancient coupé, which +smelt strongly of damp hay, and jounced away behind the erratic +Dorothea, who started off at a mad gallop and then settled abruptly +into her characteristic amble. +</P> + +<P> +A light, gentle, steady rain pattered against the windows, which +chattered like the teeth of an old beggar on a wintry day. The two +girls, deliciously nervous, would burst into irrepressible giggles each +time when, as they passed a street lamp, the ridiculously elongated +shadow of Dorothea and the chariot scurried noiselessly ahead of them +and was swallowed up in a stretch of darkness. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear, I'm scared <I>pink</I>!" breathed Alma, pinching Nancy's arm in a +nervous spasm. "My tummy feels just as if I were going down in an +awfully quick elevator." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see what <I>you</I> are scared about," replied Nancy. "<I>I</I> almost +wish this regal conveyance of ours <I>would</I> break down." +</P> + +<P> +"It feels as if one of the wheels were coming off." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess they are all coming off; but it's been like that since the +dark ages already, and I dare say it will last another century or so." +</P> + +<P> +"Look! There's Uncle Thomas' house, now. Doesn't it look exactly like +something that Poe would write about? That one light burning in the +tower window, with all the rest of the house just a huge black shape, +is positively gruesome." +</P> + +<P> +The two girls peered through the dirty little mica oval behind them at +the strange old mansion, the bizarre turrets of which were silhouetted +against the sky, where the edges of the dark clouds had parted, and the +horizon shone with a paler, sickly light. +</P> + +<P> +"It is eerie looking. I suppose old Uncle T. is up in that room poring +away over his books, and the last thing he'd be thinking of is his two +charming nieces bouncing off to an evening of giddy pleasure in this +antique mail-cart, or whatever it is." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my dear!" Alma squealed faintly. "We're getting there! Oh, look +at all the automobiles. We can't go in in this dreadful looking thing." +</P> + +<P> +"All right. You can get out and walk. I say, do your hands feel like +damp putty?" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Do</I> they! I feel as if I were getting the measles. Oh, here we are, +Nancy!" Alma's tone would have suggested that they had reached the +steps of the guillotine. Dorothea, alone, was unmoved, and almost +unmoving. With her poor old head dangling between her knees, she +crawled slowly along the broad, well-lighted driveway of a very new and +very imposing house, beset fore and aft by a train of honking and +rumbling motors. Nancy burst into a little breathy quaver of +hysterical laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"We must try to be more like Dorothea," she giggled. "Her beautiful +composure is due either to an aristocratic pedigree or to her knowledge +that she is going to die soon, and all this is the vanity of a world +which passes." +</P> + +<P> +In spite of their inner agony of shyness, however, the two girls +descended from the absurd old carriage at the broad steps, and reached +the door, under the footmen's umbrellas, with every outward appearance +of well-bred <I>sang-froid</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm so glad you could come, Nancy. Alma, how lovely you look. Don't +you want to go upstairs and take off your wraps?" Elise Porterbridge, +a tall, fat girl, dressed in vivid green, greeted them; and, with all +the dexterity of a matronly hostess, passed them on into the chattering +mob of youths and girls which crowded the wide, brightly lighted hail. +Alma clutched Nancy's arm frantically as they squeezed their way +through to the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you see a living soul that you knew besides Elise?" whispered Alma +as they slipped off their wraps into the hands of the little maid. +"Oh, it would be too awful to be a wall-flower after I've gone and +gotten these lovely slippers and everything." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be a goose. This is a good time—don't you know one when you +see it? Here, pinch your cheeks a little, and stop looking as if you +were going to have a chill. You're the prettiest girl here, and that +ought to give you some courage." +</P> + +<P> +While Nancy poked her dress and tucked in a stray wisp of hair, Alma +stood eyeing the modish, self-assured young ladies who primped and +chattered before the long mirrors around them, with the round solemn +gaze of a hostile baby. How could they be so cool, so absolutely +self-contained? +</P> + +<P> +"Come on,—you look all right," said Nancy aloud, and Alma marvelled at +the skill with which her sister imitated that very coolness and +indifference. If she had known it, Nancy was inwardly quaking with the +nervous dread that attacks every young girl at her first big party like +a violent stage fright. +</P> + +<P> +They made their way slowly down the broad stairs, passing still more +pretty, chattering debonair girls who were calling laughing, friendly +greeting to the young men below. +</P> + +<P> +From one of the other rooms a small orchestra throbbed beneath the hum +of voices; the scent of half a dozen French perfumes mingled and rose +on the hot air; and the brilliant colors of girls' dresses stirred and +wove in and out like the changing bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. +</P> + +<P> +"Er—I say—good-evening, Miss Prescott. I got to you first, so I've a +right to the first dance." It was Frank Barrows, the hero of Alma's +potato adventure, who claimed Alma before her little silver foot had +reached the last step. A lean young man, with sleek, blond hair, a +weak chin, and the free-and-easy, all-conquering manner of a youth who +has been spoiled by girls ever since he put on long trousers and +learned to run his own car, he looked at Alma with that look of +startled admiration which to a young girl is a sweeter flattery than +any that words can frame. She looked up at Nancy with a glance of +joyous, innocent triumph, and then, putting her plump little hand on +her partner's arm, and instantly meeting his gallantry with the pretty, +utterly unconscious coquetry of a born flirt, she moved off. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy, still standing at the foot of the stairs, watched the yellow +head as it passed among the heads of the other dancers. That quick, +happy glance of Alma's had said, "Forgive me for being so pretty. You +are better, and finer, and more beautiful—but they haven't found it +out yet." +</P> + +<P> +She stood alone, terribly shy, her smooth cheeks flushing scarlet, and +her bright eyes searching timidly for some friendly corner where she +could run and hide herself away for the rest of the evening. Without +Alma beside her to be petted and protected, she looked almost +pathetically just what she was—a modest young girl, who was peculiarly +lovely and appealing, as she stood waiting with a beating heart to +catch a friendly eye in all that terrible, gay, selfish throng of +pleasure-seekers. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A RETICENT GENTLEMAN—AND MISS BANCROFT +</H4> + +<P> +With only the one aim of getting to harbor by hook or crook, Nancy, her +cheeks burning with shyness, edged her way along the wall. She would +not have felt half so much alone if she had been dropped into the +middle of the Sahara desert, and, while her little feet tingled with +the rhythm of the music, she surrendered herself to the unhappy +conviction that she was doomed to be a wall-flower. +</P> + +<P> +She did not know these people; she felt as if she could never know +them. Everything in their manner, their speech and their dress +suggested a foreignness to her own nature that could never be bridged, +unless she herself changed and became another being. It was something +that she could not define, this difference; it was simply something +that grew out of a different way of thinking and feeling about life. +All these people seemed to make pleasure their business, the most +important purpose of their existence, and this attitude, expressed in +the very way that the girls carried themselves, in the tones of their +voices, in their light scraps of inconsequential and not very clever +talk, made her feel strange beyond description. +</P> + +<P> +She stood near a group of palms under the arch of the staircase, +watching the faces all about her, longing one minute to be at home, +curled up with a book on her shabby, comfortable window-seat, and the +next, that she might be drawn into the centre of all that bubbling, +companionable enjoyment. Now she caught a glimpse of Alma, who was +standing near the door of the dancing-room, bantering and coquetting +with a little cluster of youths who had gathered about her, heaven +knows where from or how, like flies about a jar of new honey; it was +plainly Alma's natural environment, in which she revelled like a joyous +young fish in a sunny pool. +</P> + +<P> +"So that pretty little creature is George Prescott's daughter?" The +question, spoken in a rather deep and penetrating voice, carried +clearly to Nancy's ears, and she turned. At a little distance from +her, seated on a small couch, sat Mrs. Porterbridge, a lean woman with +a tight-lipped, aquiline face, and painfully thin neck and arms, and +the old lady who had put the question. A quite remarkable-looking old +lady, Nancy thought, enormously fat, dressed in purple velvet, her +huge, dimpled arms and shoulders billowing, out of it, like the whipped +cream on top of some titanic confection. Two small, plump, tapering +hands clasped a handsome feather fan against her almost perpendicular +lap. Two generous chins completely obliterated any outward evidences +of neck, so that her head seemed to have been set upon her shoulders +with the naïve simplicity of a dough-man's; yet for all this, one +glance at her keen, intelligent face, with its sleepy, twinkling eyes +and humorous, witty mouth, was enough to assure one that, whoever she +might be, she was not an ordinary old lady by any means. One guessed +at once that she had seen much of the world in her sixty-five or +seventy years, that she had enjoyed every moment of the entertainment, +and that while she probably required everyone else to respect public +opinion, she felt comfortably privileged to disregard it herself +whenever she pleased. She had been busily discussing everyone who +attracted her attention, disdaining to lower her sonorous voice or to +conceal in any way the fact that she was gossiping briskly. Young and +old alike hastened up to her to pay their respects, and it was evident +from their manner of eager deference that she was a rather important +old person, whose keen and fearless tongue made her good opinion worth +gaining. +</P> + +<P> +At present she had centred her lively interest upon Alma, and Nancy +could not resist the temptation of listening to her remarks, especially +since the old lady was obviously perfectly willing to let anyone and +everyone hear her who might have reason to listen. +</P> + +<P> +"That is little Alma Prescott," Mrs. Porterbridge was replying. "She +is charmingly pretty, isn't she?" +</P> + +<P> +"The image of her mother. Tell me something about them. It's +ridiculous, isn't it, how we can live for years within a stone's throw +of our neighbors without ever knowing whether their Sunday clothes are +made of silk or calico. George Prescott used to be my particular +favorite, when he was a youngster. I remember when he married that +empty-pated little beauty—I gave him tons of my choicest advice—was +absolutely prodigal of my finest gems of wisdom; but when I saw +her—well, I knew very well that there would be ups and downs—she +should have married an Indian nabob—but, thought I, I might as well +shout to the north wind to be placid as to tell him to give her up and +find himself some sensible, excellent creature, who could mend his +socks and turn his old suits for him. He would rather have lived on +burnt potatoes and bacon, with that charming little spendthrift, than +have enjoyed all the blessings of good housekeeping at the hands of the +most estimable creature we could have found for him. I do like that +spirit in a young man, however much my excellent common sense may +disapprove of it. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw nothing of George after his marriage. I was too fond of him to +stand around offering advice, when he couldn't possibly make any use of +it. I should probably have lost my temper just as Tom Prescott +did—and I cannot endure to be in such a ridiculous position. I had a +notion that Lallie Prescott didn't live here any more." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe that the family suffers rather keen financial difficulties," +said Mrs. Porterbridge. "The girls go out very little—are quite +isolated, in fact." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean that they are hard up—don't use those genteel euphemisms, my +dear,—I can't understand 'em. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry. It was inevitable, of course, but I'm one of the few +beings that sincerely regret seeing other people reaping what they've +sown. I've always avoided my own deserts so successfully." Her big, +jolly laugh rang out at this. "There are two girls, I remember. Both +pretty?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, indeed," replied Mrs. Porterbridge, in the unenthusiastic tone +with which the mother of a rather plain daughter will praise the beauty +of another woman's daughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Hum. Well, that's distinctly <I>something</I>. I really couldn't work up +any heartfelt interest in them if they were ugly—though, of course, I +understand that beauty is only skin deep, and handsome is as handsome +does, and all that—whoever invented those saws must have been +unbearably ugly—I've always suspected that it was some plain, jealous +old wife of King Solomon who got very philosophical in her old age. +Now, I'd really like to know what little Lallie Prescott is going to do +with them." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Porterbridge gave a dry, affected little laugh, looking at Alma, +who was waltzing again with the obviously infatuated Frank Barrows. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I imagine that she is going to do all that she can to marry them +off as advantageously as possible, and I dare say that both of them——" +</P> + +<P> +"Now, don't say anything cattish, my dear," interrupted the old lady, +quite sharply, a sudden coldness routing the twinkle in her merry eyes. +"I always know when you are going to say something that will annoy me, +and nothing annoys me more than to hear an older woman say anything +unkind about a young girl. I tell you this because I'm sure that you +don't want to make me angry. If you are trying to tell me that Lallie +Prescott is a schemer in regard to the future of her two daughters, +why, I should be very much surprised to learn anything else. We are +all schemers for our children—and just as in love and war, we consider +everything fair so long as it works for their advantage. But——" +</P> + +<P> +Nancy, her cheeks burning, heard no more. In a last desperate effort +at escape, she turned and fled unseen through the nearest doorway. +</P> + +<P> +At first she did not realize where she was; then she discovered that +she had chanced upon a veritable haven of refuge, a large, quiet room, +cosily lighted by a reading-lamp, furnished with huge, paternal-looking +armchairs and divans, and lined on three of its walls from floor to +ceiling with whole regiments of books. The fourth wall was monopolized +by a great stone fireplace, where three or four tree-trunks smouldered +softly, popping every now and then into small explosions of ruddy +sparks. The smell of leather, of wood smoke, and even the delicate +musty smell of the rich, yellowed paper of old books mingled with the +hazy fragrance of a Turkish cigarette. Nancy was too much concerned +with her own thoughts to wonder where the source of that comfortable +aroma o£ tobacco lay—it was to her just a part of the atmosphere of +books and quiet and leather chairs which she always associated with her +memories of her father. Revelling in the sensation of being alone, as +she blissfully fancied herself to be, she wandered about looking at the +titles of the books, now and again taking down a volume and turning the +leaves. Here she chanced upon a delightful old edition of "Pickwick +Papers," bound in worn leather, there a copy of the "Vicar of +Wakefield," with yellowed pages, and quaint, old-fashioned print, and +the sight of these old friends, associated as they were with the +happiest and most tranquil hours of her life, soothed to a certain +extent her feelings which had been cruelly wounded by the conversation +she had overheard. +</P> + +<P> +But she was still sore and angry. Still holding the "Vicar of +Wakefield" in her hand, she stood, staring absently into the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"So that's what people will be saying about us—that we are pushing and +scheming, and—and trying to make friends just to use them for our +advantage," she thought bitterly, recalling Mrs. Porterbridge's +unfriendly little insinuation. +</P> + +<P> +Sensitive and proud as she was, that unfinished remark, made in the +cold, hard tone of a woman who, judging the whole world by herself, +credited everyone alike with self-interested and worldly motives, had +inflicted a wound that would be long in healing. It was not indeed on +her own account that she resented it so bitterly, but because of her +mother and Alma, whose actions, she knew, could be so misinterpreted +and ascribed to quite false motives. She knew, too, less by experience +than by instinct, that beneath all the pleasures and gaiety which Alma +craved so eagerly, would flow that bitter undercurrent of cynical +comment made by people who had so long been self-seeking that they +could not believe in the artlessness of a young girl's simple thirst +for enjoyment. +</P> + +<P> +Busy with these thoughts, a little strange and mature perhaps for her +age, she was quite unconscious of two interesting facts. First, that +from an armchair just beyond the radius of the lamplight, the source of +the cigarette smoke was regarding her with mingled astonishment and +approval, and, second, that she herself was making a very charming +picture as she stood in the deep, mellow glow of the firelight. +</P> + +<P> +A small man, with a kind, whimsical, clever face, was looking at her +with a pair of singularly bright brown eyes—eyes which had the direct, +unwavering, gentle gaze of a person who has the gift of reading the +meaning of faces and expressions to which others are blind. Indeed, so +clearly had he guessed the trend of the thoughts which underlay the +seriousness of Nancy's sensitive face, that he felt almost like an +eavesdropper. Suddenly she jerked her head and saw him. He stood up. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I beg your pardon," he apologized, still with the sensation of +having heard something that had not been meant for his ears. "You +didn't know I was here, and I was rather at a loss as to how I should +break it to you." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy had flushed to the edge of her hair. +</P> + +<P> +"That—that's all right," she stammered. "I—I mean, I should +apologize to you. You were reading." She began to move away toward +the door again, but he stopped her hastily. +</P> + +<P> +"You mustn't go, and you mustn't for a moment think you've disturbed +me. I haven't any business to be in here anyway, because I think I was +invited to entertain and be entertained like any respectable guest. I +don't know what they do to unmannerly, unsociable creatures who sneak +off for a book and a smoke from the scenes of revelry, but I'm guilty, +and deserve to die the death, or whatever it is." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy laughed. When he talked he had a droll way of wrinkling up his +forehead, and then suddenly breaking into a beaming, mischievous grin, +like a schoolboy. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm guilty, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes,—and really ever so much more so than I am; because you're +deliberately robbing at least ninety-nine per cent. of the guests of a +part of their evening's pleasure, whereas, my absence is of so little +importance one way or the other that, although I've been in here the +better part of an hour already, there hasn't been even a whimper of +protest. It's been decidedly injurious to my <I>amour-propre</I>. I had +hoped, when you came in, that you had been sent by the unanimous vote +of all present to request my immediate return to the regions of +festivity. I was prepared to be coy—but not adamantine. Imagine my +chagrin and dismay when it gradually dawned on me not only that you +hadn't come for any such flattering purpose, but even that you hadn't +the smallest notion I was here. As far as you were concerned I was of +less significance than a cockroach." +</P> + +<P> +"But that's not bad—a cockroach would be of awful significance to me," +said Nancy, with a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"We have caught each other red-handed in an overwhelming breach of +manners," continued he, severely. "But then, look at it this way—here +we are, each having a good time in our own way. Now it seems to me +that a hostess could ask no more of a guest than that he find his own +entertainment—if he seeks it by ambling out into the garden to weed up +wild onions, why, well and good——" +</P> + +<P> +"You are only trying to dazzle me with a false argument in +self-defense," said Nancy. +</P> + +<P> +"You should be grateful to me for furnishing such a good one, since +you've need of one yourself, ma'am. But if you don't like it, why then +I shall change my mind. As a matter of fact, the idea of dancing has +suddenly appealed to me very strongly—since Providence has at last +provided me with a—well, with a more delightful partner than I should +have dared to hope for. And they are playing a very charming waltz. +Will you dance with me?" +</P> + +<P> +He made a graceful little old-fashioned bow, and offered her his arm. +Then he smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I haven't introduced myself yet. Do you mind? I should have done +it in the beginning, but I couldn't think of any graceful way of +hinting at my name, and it's so horribly clumsy just to say pointblank, +'My name's George Arnold. What's yours?'" +</P> + +<P> +"But there isn't any other way," answered Nancy, a little shyly, but +laughing, too, "unless we both go to Mrs. Porterbridge and ask her to +introduce us. My name is Nancy—Anne Prescott." +</P> + +<P> +"There now—it's perfectly simple, isn't it? I never could understand +why there should be any formal to-do about telling two people each +other's names. Do you know, the very minute you came in—perhaps it +was from the way you looked at those dear old books—I felt as +if—well, as if we ought to be friends. You are fond of them, aren't +you—of books—really fond of them?" +</P> + +<P> +"I love those old, shabby ones. They—they looked so very friendly." +</P> + +<P> +He stole a keen glance at her face, and smiled gently at what it told +him. Then, as she clung to his arm, he guided her dexterously through +the crowd to the dancing floor. +</P> + +<P> +After that first dance the whole evening changed for Nancy. She had +half doubted that her companion would be a good dancer, but in two +moments that doubt was routed. Gliding smoothly, weightlessly as if to +the gentle rhythm of a wave, they circled through the moving swarm of +dancers; Nancy's cheeks flushing like two poppies and her eyes +glistening with the exhilaration of the music. Her timidity had left +her; she felt warm, vivacious and attractive, and it seemed perfectly +natural that after that first waltz she had partners for every dance. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Arnold danced with no one else. When other partners claimed her, +he retired to the doorway, and stood with his arms folded, surveying +the scene with his whimsical, absent-minded smile; but evidently he +regarded it as his right to have each waltz with her. +</P> + +<P> +"My aunt has ordered me to present you to her," he said, when he had at +length led her into a corner for an ice, and a moment's chat. "For +some reason she has evidently taken a great fancy to you at sight, and +she is giving me no peace. She is a very peremptory and badly spoiled +old lady, but it's impossible to resist her. I told her that she might +frighten you to death, and that then you'd blame me." +</P> + +<P> +"You <I>didn't</I>!" cried Nancy, horrified. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed I did. I've had the experience before—and I told her that I'd +be hanged if I assumed the responsibility of surrendering any +unsuspecting person into her clutches without giving them fair warning. +But, seriously, she is a very dear lady,—though an eccentric one—and +she has been saying extremely nice things about you. Besides—she +asked me to tell you that she knew your father, and that <I>she</I> loved +him long before <I>you</I> were born." +</P> + +<P> +Something in his softened, gentle tone went to Nancy's heart. She put +down her ice. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you take me now? I think I know—I mean I've seen your aunt +already." +</P> + +<P> +"She is a very remarkable person. She can be more terrifying—and more +tender, than any woman in the world. Utterly fearless, something of a +tyrant—possibly because she has never been denied anything she wanted +in her life. She simply doesn't accept denials. If she had been a man +she might have been a Pitt, or a Napoleon. As she is, she is a mixture +of Queen Elizabeth—and Queen Victoria." +</P> + +<P> +The amazing individual, described by this brief biographical preface, +who was still enthroned on the coquettish little French couch, and who +was now consuming a pink ice with naïve relish, was indeed the old lady +in purple—otherwise, Miss Elizabeth Bancroft, of Lowry House (for some +reason she had always been given this somewhat English style of +designation; possibly because she was the last of her name to be +identified with the magnificent collections for which Lowry House, the +American roof-tree of aristocratic English colonists, had been famous +for more than a hundred years). +</P> + +<P> +As Nancy stood before her, she looked up at the girl keenly, her little +blue eyes diminished in size by the thick lenses of her pince-nez. +Then she handed her ice to Mr. Arnold without even glancing at him, and +held out both her plump white hands to Nancy. Her whole face softened, +with the dimpling, comfortable smile of a motherly old nurse. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my dear child—if you were only a boy I could believe you were +George again—my George, your father—not this young rascal. Come, sit +down beside me. I shan't keep you long. Have you been having a good +time, my dear?" +</P> + +<P> +She was not a terrible old lady at all. On the contrary, with +wonderful skill, with cosy, affectionate little ways, with her jolly +laugh, and her droll stories, she had succeeded in less time than it +takes to tell in completely winning Nancy to her. And somehow, +although she appeared to be doing all the talking herself, although she +touched so lightly and so adroitly that she hardly seemed to touch at +all on any topic that was delicately personal to the girl, she had +managed within a brief five minutes to glean a hundred little facts, +which, by piecing together in her keen old mind, gave her more +knowledge concerning the Prescotts than another person could have come +by in a week's diligent pumping. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"George, my dear——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Aunt Eliza." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, nothing. I wish to goodness you were a woman. It just occurred +to me that you can't possibly understand what I was going to say to +you, so never mind about listening to me. Smoke, if you want to, and +let me think in peace." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well." From Mr. Arnold's docile submissiveness it might be +surmised that he, too, wanted to think in peace. Miss Bancroft's +lumbering, impressive coupé rumbled along over the wet roads toward +Lowry House; its two occupants buried in that mood of silence which +only two very sympathetic beings know how to respect. Presently Miss +Bancroft burst out: +</P> + +<P> +"The child is quite charming. I shall give Tom a good sound piece of +my mind. To-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +George Arnold grunted. +</P> + +<P> +"It's only fair sportsmanship to give him twelve hours' warning." +</P> + +<P> +"Poor Lallie Prescott. Like most silly women, she's going to try to +beat Providence by pushing them forward into premature rivalry with +girls who have every financial advantage over them, ruin their +contentment, so that they will be ready to fling away their happiness +on the first little whippersnapper who looks as if he could give them a +trip to Paris and a season in Cannes every year. I admire her fighting +spirit, but it's hopelessly misdirected." +</P> + +<P> +"Am I meant to understand you, Aunt Eliza?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. Don't even listen to me. Nancy has too much sense for a girl of +her age, and that exquisite little Alma has none. Tut-tut. I find +that I must interfere." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +MISS BANCROFT BEARDS THE OGRE +</H4> + +<P> +Miss Bancroft had not made her solemn declaration lightly. She never +made any announcements of her intentions without weighty consideration; +consequently she was a woman who meant what she said, and meant it +thoroughly. Moreover, she never procrastinated; she thought in a +straight line, and she acted in a straight line. +</P> + +<P> +Like most women, she took a healthy human delight in "interfering"; +but, unlike the majority of her sex, she indulged very rarely. When, +however, she had made up her mind on the point of allowing herself to +concern herself in other people's business, she experienced the +exquisite relish of a strictly self-controlled gamester, who allows +himself to play only rarely so that he may enjoy his sport with that +peculiar zest which only long abstinence can whet. +</P> + +<P> +On a sunny, warm September day, mellow with the promise of an Indian +summer, Miss Bancroft, smart, though rotund, in lavender linen, set out +on her pilgrimage to the house of Thomas Prescott. +</P> + +<P> +"I see that you aren't above the traditional wiles of your sex, Aunt," +commented George Arnold, looking up from his book, and surveying her +with twinkling eyes, from the long wicker porch chair, where he had +been dozing in the sun. "You've rigged yourself out in full panoply. +That's a jaunty little parasol you have." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Bancroft, standing on the broad steps, put up her parasol at this, +to shade the fine texture of her gaily beflowered straw hat from the +sun, and then glanced around at her nephew with a demure smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I make a point of looking my best always when I'm going to see Tom +Prescott. Of course he thinks me a sensible woman, a remarkably +reasonable woman, and all that nonsense; but I like to leave him with +at least a half-formed notion that I'm surprisingly well preserved, +even if I have rather lost my waist-line. There was a time, you +know——" the demure smile quirked the corners of her big, mobile +mouth, and sparkled impishly in her eyes; then with a little wag of her +head, she ran down the steps like a fat, jolly schoolgirl. +</P> + +<P> +George Arnold, leaning back against a chintz cushion, watched the +portly, festive figure that moved away under the trees of the long +drive. Miss Bancroft usually seemed to roll slowly, but efficiently, +along on wheels as ponderous and impressive as an old-fashioned +stage-coach. He caught a last glimpse of lavender and white through +the shrubs that bordered the end of the lawn. He felt a good deal of +interest in this pilgrimage of his aunt's, although he had no very +clear idea of the purpose of it. It had something to do with two very +pretty young girls whom he had seen at an otherwise stupid dance the +night before. One of the girls looked like a Dresden doll, the other +had dark eyes, and a direct, shy, almost boyish smile. Her name was +Anne—Nancy. Nancy suited her much better. He had thought about her +several times. For no particular reason—she was hardly eighteen, and +he was, well, he was thirty-three, though that was neither here nor +there. It was simply that he liked her rather better than one likes +most girls of that age. She had a way of listening to a man without +that stupid, flustered expression, as though she was only wondering +what in the world she should say when it should be her turn to talk. +She liked books. He wondered if she knew that he wrote them. Of +course he wasn't world-famous, but it might interest her to know that +he was the George Arnold whose collections of exquisitely delicate +children's stories had already been translated into six foreign +languages, "including the Scandinavian." +</P> + +<P> +He smiled to himself at the naïve vanity which had prompted this +thought; and chastised it by telling himself that it was only too +likely that her ignorance or knowledge of what he did or was were +matters of like indifference to her. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime, Miss Bancroft, puffing a little under the combined +difficulties of avoirdupois and a beaming September sun, was looking +with an almost pathetic anticipation at the rich cool shadows beneath +which slept the rambling mansion of Thomas Prescott. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall order some tea. A man is always so much more amenable to +reason over a tea-table—and for my part, I'll not survive half an hour +without a little light refreshment. I suppose I'll have to listen to a +long discourse on the origin of the Slavic races or the religious +customs of the Aztecs, until I can get him down to argue with me on his +duty toward his fellow creatures. I hope to Heaven that his principles +are drowsy to-day. I can't bear it if I have to combat a lot of +principles. It's absolutely heathenish to have principles in warm +weather anyway. Of course they are the proper things to have, but, +dear me, they <I>are</I> such nuisances. It's all right to have them about +yourself, I suppose, but to have them about other people is priggish, +and quite useless, so far as I can see. My observation has taught me +that if you like a person it makes no difference whether their +principles coincide with your own or not, or even if they have none at +all; and if you don't like a person, it's downright irritating to have +to approve of them." Miss Bancroft's mental grammar, like much of her +spoken grammar, was inaccurate, of course; as in other matters, she +held rule to scorn, when the rule interfered with her personal +conception of what she was trying to make clear to other people or to +herself. +</P> + +<P> +Under the vigorous thrust of her plump, direct forefinger, the +door-bell pealed clearly in the cool remote regions of the house. +Standing under the arch of the Norman doorway, she surveyed the broad, +shade-flecked lawns with interest and a sort of irritable appreciation. +Somewhere under the trees a gardener was raking the drive and burning +neat piles of warm, brown leaves, from which the pungent smoke ascended +in sinuous blue spirals, like languorously dancing phantoms of the dead +leaves; and the pleasant, rhythmic sound of the rake on the gravel +intensified the sober peaceful silence peculiar to that bachelor's +domain. +</P> + +<P> +The door was opened. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell Mr. Prescott that it's Miss Bancroft. Nonsense, I shan't sit +down in the drawing-room at all—it makes me feel like a member of the +Ladies' Aid come to petition a subscription for a new church carpet or +something. Tell Mr. Prescott that I'll be out on the porch." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you come through this way, then, madam?" suggested the old +butler, meekly. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Bancroft followed him, sighing a little with relief as the +coolness of the great hall, with its smell of old, polished wood and +waxed floors, closed about her. +</P> + +<P> +"And, William," she called pathetically after the retreating butler, +"do put the kettle on!" +</P> + +<P> +On her way through the house she passed a stately succession of large +rooms. A handsome drawing-room, with a polished parquetry floor, fit +for the dainty crimson heels of a laced and furbelowed French coquette; +its great glass chandelier shrouded in white tarlatan; the dining-room, +with high-wainscoted walls, on which hung three or four astonishingly +valuable and even beautiful pictures by masters of the eighteenth +century English school. For all its impressive grandeur, the long +table, covered with a rare piece of Italian brocade, was, with the +single carved chair set at the distant end, a barren table, indeed, for +a man whom Miss Bancroft knew to be possessed of one of the warmest, +tenderest and most affection-craving hearts in the whole world. +</P> + +<P> +"Principles—fiddlesticks!" she observed aloud. "Tst!" +</P> + +<P> +A living-room, in which no one ever lived, a writing-room, in which no +one ever wrote, and long halls, wainscoted in dark oak and quiet as +those of a college library, whose silence was never broken by the light +staccato footsteps of gay feet, or the murmur of roguish voices. But +the air of pathos which all these things wore seemed to rise from the +fact that they had been planned and secured not for the enjoyment of a +lonely old man, but for some happy purpose that had never been +realized. They seemed to wear an expression of disappointment, even of +apology for existing so uselessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Tut! How can anyone be patient with a man of principles," again +commented Miss Bancroft; but her face had grown a little sad. +</P> + +<P> +She was rocking gently back and forth in the shade of the cool stone +porch, when the sound of footsteps at last reached her ears, and she +looked up with the warm smile of a guest who knows she is always +welcome. +</P> + +<P> +"Elizabeth! This is a very great pleasure. I thought you had +forgotten me!" +</P> + +<P> +"You deserve to be forgotten, my dear friend. Ah, now you've disarmed +me, though. I've just conscience enough to have to tell you that I've +come this time with ulterior motives." +</P> + +<P> +"I can find fault with no motives of yours, so long as they prompt you +to visit me. I look forward to my little chats with you as a child +looks forward to his Saturday treats." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Tom, your gift of saying delightful things is one of the +wonders of the age. Here you never see a woman from one year's end to +the other, and yet you can turn a compliment as charmingly as though +you practised on the fairest in the land every evening of your life." +</P> + +<P> +"'In my youth, said the Father——'" quoted the old gentleman with a +twinkle. "However, let's hear your ulterior motives first, my dear +Elizabeth, so that afterwards we can chat with unburdened minds." +</P> + +<P> +"No—no, I refuse to beard you until we have some tea. Thank goodness, +here's William bringing it now. I took the liberty of ordering it, +Tom." +</P> + +<P> +"You took no liberties at all—you merely assumed your privileges. +Tut-tut! Tea. You women, with all your notions and your injurious +habits—how very delightful it is to be near you!" +</P> + +<P> +"To hear you talk, Tom, how could <I>anyone</I> suspect that you were a man +of principles!" cried Miss Bancroft. "How could anyone dream that you +were hard, and austere and—and unimaginative!" He looked at her in +mild astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +He was a small old man, rather delicate in build, with the blunt broad +hands of a worker, and a high, smooth, massive forehead, from which his +perfectly white hair fell back, long and almost childishly soft and +fine. His eyes, set deep under the sharply defined bone of his +projecting brow, wore the gentle, far-away expression noticeable in +many near-sighted people; but his chin contradicted their softness, and +there was a hint of obstinacy in his close-set mouth and rather long +upper lip. He was dressed negligently, and indeed almost shabbily, and +he made no apologies for his appearance; since he never gave a thought +to it himself, he could not consider what other people might think of +it. His greatest hobby, lingering with him from earlier years, was +chemistry, and he spent virtually all his time in the laboratory which +he had fitted up in one of the odd towers that decorated his house. +His coat and trousers would have given a far less observant person than +Sherlock Holmes a clue to this favorite occupation of his, stained and +burned as they were with acids. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you eat your <I>dinner</I> in those clothes?" demanded Miss Bancroft. +</P> + +<P> +"Why? What's the matter with them? Why not eat dinner in 'em? My +dear Elizabeth, surely at this late date you haven't taken it into your +head to reform my habits?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know but that I have," replied Miss Bancroft with a touch of +grimness. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that your ulterior motive? I suspected it. Tell me what you meant +when you accused me just now of being hard and austere and +unimaginative. Why unimaginative?" +</P> + +<P> +"No really intelligent woman would ever try to explain anything so +subtle to a man. I mean that you are unimaginative because you allow +yourself to be rigid——" +</P> + +<P> +"Rigid? Rigid about what?" +</P> + +<P> +"About your principles. I like you, Tom—you know how much. I admire +you more than any man I have ever known, and I have known a good many +remarkable men. But one thing I cannot forgive you is your principles." +</P> + +<P> +"My principles? When did I ever offend you with principles?" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Bancroft poured herself another cup of tea, and laid a second +piece of bread-and-butter neatly on the side of her saucer. +</P> + +<P> +"Come," said Mr. Prescott, with a keen glance at her. "Come, it's not +like you, Elizabeth, to beat about the bush. What can this matter be +which you find so difficult to broach in plain English?" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Bancroft hesitated a moment. It touched her vanity to be accused +of beating about the bush, since she took an especial pride in her +reputation of being a woman who never minced matters, and who always +made a direct and fearless attack. +</P> + +<P> +Then she said, simply: +</P> + +<P> +"I came to talk to you about—George's daughters, Tom." +</P> + +<P> +There was a short silence. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not like you, Elizabeth, to—to touch upon a matter so very +delicate," remarked Mr. Prescott, quietly, his lips tightening +slightly. "Of course I can understand how my attitude in regard to +them must appear to you, but I fancied that there existed between you +and me a silent agreement that this was one subject which was never to +be mentioned." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Tom, you know that under ordinary circumstances I am not an +interfering woman; therefore you must realize that I should never have +spoken of this to you without the best of reasons for doing so. But I +feel that you are allowing certain principles, excellent no doubt in +themselves, but wrong in your particular application to them, to thwart +your own happiness; to say nothing of depriving others of the +advantages which it is in your power to bestow." Miss Bancroft was +very serious now. As she spoke she leaned over and laid her fat little +hand earnestly on the old man's shabby sleeve. He said nothing, and +she continued: +</P> + +<P> +"There are two young girls, charming—beautiful, indeed—the daughters +of a man you loved far more even than most fathers love their +first-born sons——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't!" exclaimed Mr. Prescott, sharply, almost fiercely. "Don't +speak to me of that, Elizabeth. Can't you realize that just to mention +my—George recalls all my old rancor against that little, heartless +spendthrift who ruined him—<I>killed</I> him——" his voice rose hoarsely, +then making an effort to control himself, he went on in a quieter tone: +</P> + +<P> +"It's very difficult for me to discuss this with you, Elizabeth." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry, Tom. But you have no right to—it's a matter of your own +happiness as much as theirs—and I would be no friend of yours if I +were not willing and anxious to risk your anger for the sake of +righting this mistake you are making." +</P> + +<P> +"My nieces are not in want. And familiarity with a certain degree of +poverty is the source of a wisdom that safeguards men and women from +follies that lead to many of the greatest miseries on earth." +</P> + +<P> +"Want, my dear Tom, is a purely relative condition," said Miss +Bancroft. "There are needs, which to certain natures are more +intolerable than physical hunger. To deprive a young girl of simple, +innocent delights—companionship of her own kind, dainty clothes, +harmless enjoyments—is like robbing a plant of sun and rain." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean to tell me that poverty need deprive any girl of such +things? Nonsense, Elizabeth! I have seen girls who had but two +dresses to their name, who worked and struggled and economized, and who +nevertheless had as much pleasure—indeed more, I'll wager—than the +most petted heiress in the land. And what's more, they made better +wives and better mothers and better citizens. They knew how many cents +make a dollar, and how many dollars their men could make in a week by +the sweat of their brow, working not eight hours a day, but ten and +twelve. One never heard this sickly whine from them—this talk that +women must be coddled and pampered, and that men can eat their hearts +out to provide the 'sun' in which they bask like pet lizards! They +didn't ask for 'sunlight'—they asked only that they might work and +save with their husbands—that they could be fit partners, and they +found their joy, not in 'dainty clothes' and 'harmless enjoyments' but +in giving their strength and their courage for their husbands and their +children!" Mr. Prescott had risen to his feet in the vehemence of his +feeling, and was walking back and forth, his hands locked behind his +back, and his head lowered and thrust forward between his hunched-up +shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Good heavens, I've got him roused for fair," thought Miss Bancroft, +with a mixture of amusement and dismay. "And of course, theoretically +he's dead right. Now why is it that so many things which, +theoretically, are dead right, practically, are all wrong? That's what +I've got to prove to him—and I don't know whether I shall succeed +after all. I must take care not to be sentimental—that rouses him +dreadfully." +</P> + +<P> +Aloud she said, in a quiet voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Listen, Tom—under ordinary circumstances I should agree with you +absolutely. But a short time ago I spoke of want being relative. You +said that your nieces are not in want. You meant, of course, that they +had food and clothes and shelter. If they were girls who lived in an +absolutely different plane of life that would be sufficient for their +happiness. They could have pleasure with their two dresses and their +one best bonnet, because everyone else of their class would have no +more. But take one of them out of that class; put her where her only +companions would have to be sought for among men and women who lived on +a scale of comparative wealth, where, to make friends, she would have +to appear well, and so on—then, what in the first case was at least a +sufficiency, now becomes tragically inadequate. There is no cure but +for that girl to recede from the class to which by birth, breeding and +instinct she belongs. +</P> + +<P> +"You have built up a great fortune. You yourself are what you boast of +being—a self-made man—a man originally of the people. But you made +your nephew a gentleman—understand that I am using the word in the +commonest sense. Consequently his children belong to a class in which +needs must be measured by a different scale from that used for working +women. They live—as you do, and most likely because you do—in a very +rich community. They suffer from wants that girls of a different class +would never know. They are deprived of things which your working girl +would not be deprived of. They are poorer on their two thousand a +year, or whatever it is, than a peasant woman would be on two hundred, +because their particular needs are more expensive." +</P> + +<P> +"They will be very rich—after I die," said Mr. Prescott in a low +voice, after a short pause. "But I won't let them even suspect it. +That little wife of George's—I never want to see her again—she is a +great little gambler. If she felt sure that in a few years her +daughters were coming into a fortune of several millions, Heaven only +knows but that she'd have the last cent of it spent in advance. You +seem to have gleaned an immense amount of information concerning my +nieces—perhaps you know what her plans for them are." +</P> + +<P> +"You know, Tom, that I was as much opposed—indeed more opposed, +perhaps, than you were to George's marrying Lallie. But that is +neither here nor there now. I am afraid that she is—well, attempting +things for her girls that lie beyond her income. You must not blame +her. She isn't a wise woman, but I am sure that she is one who suffers +more for her mistakes than she causes others to suffer. Of course I am +no judge of that. +</P> + +<P> +"She is a little gambler, no doubt, as you said—but a gallant one. +She is playing against rather desperate odds—and she cannot be blamed +if she plays foolishly. As I understand it, I believe that her object +is to give her girls, by hook or crook, advantages that lie beyond her +means, the goal being that one of them or both will marry—well. If +she wins—well and good——" +</P> + +<P> +"Well and good—fiddlesticks! Nonsense! Good Heavens!" shouted Mr. +Prescott. "Whatever are you driving at, Elizabeth? I can't make head +or tail of all this talking. You come to me, telling me that my nieces +are in want of some kind or other, that that mother of theirs is living +beyond her means in her attempt to put them on a footing with the +daughters of millionaires, so that they can marry some mother's son +whom they fancy can stand their extravagance, and as far as I can make +out, you want me to defray their expenses, so that the business of +ruining some other man's boy as mine was ruined will be less difficult +for them. Have you gone clean daft?" +</P> + +<P> +"I see I haven't made myself perfectly clear," said Miss Bancroft, +patiently. "I should have told you that I saw both of your nieces last +night. It was because of the older one that I came here to-day—Nancy. +She looks enough like George to make your heart ache. And she is +facing poor George's problem. She is a very remarkable young girl—I +don't cotton to the average young miss very readily, as you know, but +there was something in that bright, eager young face that went to my +heart. She was at the Porterbridges'. They came in an old hack that +they were ashamed of. Do you like to think of George's daughters doing +that? +</P> + +<P> +"She is a girl who deserves a fair chance, and she's not getting it. +But she isn't the sort that whimpers. She struck me as being full of a +fine courage—and an independence of spirit that made one member of the +family the very troublesome person he is. She is a girl who has her +teeth set against circumstance, and her own cool, sober views of life. +But she is very young—too young to have to cope with the difficulties +that face her, and far too proud to accept any help with strings tied +to it. Remember that. And in my opinion, it is a sin and a shame that +you, who could give her the help she needs, and who could get a great +deal of happiness in return—you won't even see her. I'm not asking +anything but that you see and talk to Nancy sometime." Miss Bancroft +rose, and shook out her skirt. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Prescott stood, looking straight ahead of him, with his under lip +thrust forward, a characteristic trick of that same grand-niece Nancy, +if he but knew it. +</P> + +<P> +Presently he turned, and held out his hand with a queer, almost shy +smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Do forgive me, Elizabeth, for bellowing at you as I have. You know, +my dear girl—and you have often agreed with me—that, while at my +death my nieces will become very rich, it has been my purpose to allow +them to know poverty, with all its sorrows and harassments, so that +they can use my fortune wisely for their own happiness and for the +happiness of the families that they will have in time. My theory is +right—but circumstances alter cases. I shall think over what you have +said—but I shall promise nothing." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Bancroft accepted his hand and pressed it affectionately. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, good-bye. No, don't bother to open the door for me; I'll +go this way." +</P> + +<P> +He smiled at her again as she went down the steps. +</P> + +<P> +"I always feel lonely when you have gone, even when we have been +quarrelling," he remarked, with a wistful look. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you feel lonely. You roll around in that huge house of +yours like a hazelnut in a shoe," returned Miss Bancroft, quickly. He +caught her meaning, and as quickly replied: +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense—I like plenty of room. Never could bear to have a lot of +people hanging around. No man can accomplish anything with an army of +women and things hanging to his coat-tails!" +</P> + +<P> +"Tst!" observed Miss Bancroft, and because there was no answer to that, +she could retire with the satisfaction of having had the last word. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A MAN OF "PRINCIPLES" +</H4> + +<P> +"One dozen stockings—six woolen and six silk—imagine owning six pairs +of silk stockings—-six nighties—don't they look luxurious, all +beribboned and fluffy? One thick sweater, one pair of stout boots—I +hope these boots are stout enough; they look as if they could kick a +hole through the side of a battle-ship. One mackintosh—now where +under the sun can I put this mackintosh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, just roll it up in a bundle and slam it in that corner near your +shoes. It'll keep 'em from bumping around. My dear, you look as if +you'd been in a tornado." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>In</I> a tornado! I <I>am</I> a tornado." Nancy lifted a flushed face, and +gazed at Alma through a haze of tumbled hair. Then she sat back on her +heels in front of the open trunk, and seizing her locks near the +temples, pulled them frenziedly. "Alma Prescott, if you sit there +another moment looking calm, I'll throw this shoe-horn at you. Do +anything, scream, run around in circles, pant, anything, but <I>don't</I> +look calm. Every minute I'm forgetting something vital. Let me see, +nail-brush, tooth-brush, cold-cream——" +</P> + +<P> +"If you go over that formula again, I'll be a mopping, mowing idiot," +observed Alma serenely, from the window-seat. "I wonder how one mops +and mows—it sounds awfully idiotic, doesn't it? I saw you put the +nail-brush <I>and</I> the tooth-brush <I>and</I> the cold-cream in the tray +there—left-hand corner. Now, for goodness' sake, forget about +them—it's just little things like that that unhinge the greatest +minds. You're horribly bad company while you're packing a trunk." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, anyhow, it's nearly done now—and yours is ready." +</P> + +<P> +"You're a lamb for doing mine for me—I haven't been a bit of help, I +know. Oh, you <I>know</I> it's going to be glorious fun—at boarding +school. I've always longed to go to boarding school. And it isn't +awfully strict at Miss Leland's, Elise Porterbridge says. They have +midnight feasts, and all sorts of things—and then, you know, Frank +Barrows is at Harvard, and he asked me up there for some dance near +Christmas. Don't you think Frank is very nice, Nancy?" This was what +Alma had been leading around to, and Nancy knew it. Personally she +thought Frank rather an affected youth, but she had sense enough not to +air this opinion before Alma just then. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes, he seems very nice," she replied, with very mild interest. +</P> + +<P> +"I think he has sort of more to him than most men of his age," pursued +Alma, affecting a judicial air. +</P> + +<P> +"Probably he has." +</P> + +<P> +"He dances beautifully. Goodness, I had a wonderful time the other +night. I know that you probably think it's wrong of me, but I'd like +nothing more than to go to a party like that every night in the week." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>I</I> don't think it's wrong at all—only I think you'd probably get +awfully sick of it in a little while. And—and the chief trouble as +far as we are concerned is that it's so dreadfully expensive. I know +you think I'm always harping on the same string—but do you remember +the motto of Mr. Micawber—'Income one pound—expenditure nineteen +shillings and sixpence—product, happiness; income one pound, +expenditure one pound and sixpence, product, misery——'" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I know that's very sensible, but there's lots of sense to 'eat, +drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die,'" returned Alma, with a gay +laugh. "You're thinking about my dress and slippers—I could have +killed that person who spilt their fruit punch all over my skirt, but +there was nothing to do about it, and besides I'm sure I can hide the +stain with a sash or something. I don't believe in worrying." With +this, Madame Optimist turned and, pressing her short nose against the +window pane, drummed with her little pink nails against the wet glass. +The rain was falling again in a monotonous drenching downpour, +stripping the trees of the few, brown, shivering leaves that clung to +the dripping branches. The promise of Indian summer seemed to have +been definitely broken for reasons of Dame Nature's own, and the +weather was having a tantrum about it. But inside, the little bedroom +was all the cosier in contrast to the woebegone gloom of the early +dusk. The chintz window curtains of Nancy's making were faded by many +washings, it is true, and the two white iron bedsteads might have +looked sprucer for a coat of paint, but with a fire glowing in the +grate, and sending out an almost affectionate glint upon all the +familiar objects, the little room had an air of motherly cheerfulness +and comfort. A shabby but inviting armchair stood in front of the +hearth. In a corner, a white bookcase harbored a family of well-worn +volumes, ranging from "Grimm's Fairy Tales," and "Stepping Stones to +English Literature" to "The Three Musketeers" and "Jane Eyre," all +tattered and thumbed, and seeming to wear the happy, weary expression +of a rag doll that has been "loved to death." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," Nancy was saying, in reply to Alma's observation, "I don't +believe in worrying, but I do believe in having an umbrella if you live +in a rainy climate. Then you don't have to worry about the—rain. +<I>Comprenez-vous</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +"I comprenez—you are talking in symbols, aren't you? Where's Mother?" +</P> + +<P> +"Here I am, darling," replied Mrs. Prescott from the doorway. "Dear +me, the trunks are all packed, aren't they? Nancy, what a wonderful +child you are. Oh, whatever am I going to do without my daughters!" +</P> + +<P> +"This time to-morrow night we'll all be dying of the blues. Thank +goodness, here's Hannah with some tea—I'm starving," said Nancy, +springing up to take the tray from the hands of the fat old woman, who +had just made her appearance, her full, solemn red face looming behind +the teapot. +</P> + +<P> +They all gathered around the fire, Nancy and Alma settling cross-legged +on the floor, and immediately opening a disastrous attack on the plate +of chocolate cake—Hannah's prize contribution to this farewell feast. +</P> + +<P> +"This time to-morrow night we'll probably be regaling ourselves on +baked beans and cold rice-pudding," added Alma, cramming chocolate cake +into her mouth like a greedy child. "That's an awful thought." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, miss, ye don't suppose they'll be feedin' ye bad," exclaimed +Hannah in great concern. The old woman had taken her stand +respectfully near the doorway, loath to lose the last few glimpses of +her adored young mistresses. "If ye think that now, I can send ye a +box of jellies and the like any time ye say." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, they'll probably give us something more than bread and +water—but not much," replied Nancy, seriously. "They don't believe in +giving students much to eat, because it hampers their brains." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so, now?" marvelled Hannah. +</P> + +<P> +"It is indeed—it's a scientific fact, Hannah. When we come back for +the Christmas holidays, we'll probably be so pale and wan that we won't +even cast a shadow. But goodness, how clever we'll be." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a great believer in good feedin'," commented Hannah dubiously. +"And I don't cotton much to scientifics, if you'll pardon me, miss. +Lord, what an empty house 'twill be without ye." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you aren't insinuating that we take up much room," laughed +Nancy; she was teasing Hannah to cover up her own growing sensation of +homesickness and uneasiness. "Take good care of Mother, Hannah, and +don't let her go out without her rubbers on, and—and make her write to +us every single day. It's ridiculous, I suppose, to talk as if we were +going twelve hundred instead of twelve miles, but we've never been even +twelve miles away from home before." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and there's nothing like seeing something of the world to broaden +a person," observed Alma, sagely. "When I'm grown up, I shall +certainly travel. I intend to make a tour of the world. Egypt +especially—goodness, I'd like to go to Egypt. That Edith Palliser was +a lucky girl—her guardian took her to Paris and Rome and Cairo and +even to Algiers, and she met all kinds of interesting people—a Spanish +prince and a Russian count, and loads of artists and writers and +things. I'm afraid that we must be terribly provincial." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, now, don't say that," remonstrated Hannah, who had no idea what +"provincial" meant, and was consequently convinced that it must mean +something very bad indeed. "Bless my soul! There's the bell—now who +could be comin' here on a day like this?" +</P> + +<P> +The door-bell had indeed been rung fiercely, and a second ring followed +impatiently upon the first. Hannah vanished. +</P> + +<P> +"Who in the world——" wondered Nancy. +</P> + +<P> +"Sh! It's some man." +</P> + +<P> +Alma sprang up, and running out into the hall leaned curiously over the +bannister. In a moment she returned, looking as if she had seen a +ghost, her mouth open, and her eyes popping. +</P> + +<P> +"Nancy! Mother! I think it's <I>Uncle Thomas</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" But Nancy too scrambled to her feet and stood listening +with suspended breath. "Mother——!" +</P> + +<P> +"No, my dear—it—it <I>couldn't</I> be!" Mrs. Prescott had turned quite +pale. "It must be just some tradesman. See—there's Hannah now." +</P> + +<P> +But Hannah's face confirmed the dazing suspicion. Without even +announcing the stupifying news, she leaned weakly against the doorway, +and pressed her hand to her ample bosom, signifying an overwhelming +agitation. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is it, Hannah?" +</P> + +<P> +"The saints protect us, miss—ma'am! Sure, it's the old gentleman +himself—as large as life, indeed. 'Is the missis home?' says he, and +before I can draw breath—'Tell her Mr. Prescott is waitin' on her, and +would like to see the young ladies,' says he. And he sticks his +soakin' umbrella in the corner, and without takin' off his overshoes, +stalks into the livin'-room. 'Humph!' says he, seein' the hole in the +carpet, 'that's dangerous. I like to have broken me neck. Be good +enough to hurry, ma'am,' says he, 'an' don't stand gawpin' at me like a +simpleton.' 'Will ye have a seat, sir?' says I. 'I will, when I want +one,' says he, short-like, and there he stands standin' and starin' +around him, and suckin' at his lips, and kinda talkin' to hisself. +What shall I be tellin' him, ma'am?" +</P> + +<P> +This bomb seemed to have paralyzed the little family. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I—tell him——" stammered Mrs. Prescott, looking piteously at +Nancy for help. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better go right down, Mother. Why, you look frightened to +death, dear." +</P> + +<P> +"I am. He frightens me dreadfully. I can't bear sarcastic people. Do +go down alone, Nancy,—tell him I have a headache." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no! That wouldn't be wise. What can he say? He may want to be +very nice," said Nancy, reassuringly. "Come along—don't keep him +waiting. Here, just tuck up your hair a bit. Come on, Alma." +</P> + +<P> +Inwardly quaking, but outwardly preserving a dignified composure, the +three descended the staircase, with the calmness of people going to +some inevitable fate. +</P> + +<P> +"He can't bite you, dear," whispered Nancy to her mother, with a +nervous little giggle. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Prescott was standing perfectly still, with his back toward the +door, staring with an evidently absorbed interest at the wall in front +of him. He turned slowly, as Mrs. Prescott entered the room, and for a +moment surveyed her and the two girls without speaking. Then he said, +casually: +</P> + +<P> +"Good-afternoon, Lallie." +</P> + +<P> +Alma shot a glance at Nancy. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-afternoon, Uncle Thomas," said Mrs. Prescott, in a rather faint +voice, and flushing crimson with nervousness. "It—it is very kind of +you——" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all," he interrupted, brusquely, "not at all. May we have a +light—it is rather dark." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy quickly lit the gas, and as the light from the jet shone down on +her upturned face the old man scrutinized her keenly. A queer, +half-tender, but repressed expression changed the lines in his stern +old face for a moment, then he looked at Alma, who was regarding him +with perfectly unconcealed terror and awe. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you do?" he said to her, holding out his hand. "How do you do? +You're my niece Alma, eh? Anne is the one who looks like—like my +nephew, and Alma is the one who resembles her mother." He said this as +if he were repeating some directions to himself. "I haven't seen you +since you were children." He shook Alma's hand formally, and sat down +at Mrs. Prescott's timid invitation, The short silence which ensued, +while it seemed like an age of discomfort to the Prescotts, apparently +was unobserved by him. +</P> + +<P> +"It has been a very long time since—since I have seen you, Uncle +Thomas," said Mrs. Prescott in desperation, quite aware that this +remark, like any one she should make just then, was a very awkward one. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I never go out, madam. So this is Anne—Nancy, eh?" He turned +abruptly to the girl and met her clear, steady eyes sharply. "You were +a child—a very little girl when I saw you last. You resemble my +nephew very much,—my—my dear. +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt, madam, you are wondering at the reason of this visit," he +said, all at once plunging into the heart of matters with an air of +impatience at any "beating about the bush." "I've no doubt it was the +last thing in the world you expected, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was indeed a surprise," murmured Mrs. Prescott. +</P> + +<P> +"I realized that my grandnieces are growing up, and I had a curiosity +to see them. There is the kernel of the matter. They are handsome +girls. I suppose everyone knows that they have a rich uncle—and +prospects, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Neither my daughters nor anyone else has been deluded in that +respect," answered Mrs. Prescott, with a touch of spirit. +</P> + +<P> +"Hum. Well, that's good, I should say. Nothing puts anyone in such a +false position as to be generally regarded as having—prospects. It's +ruinous, especially for girls." +</P> + +<P> +"My daughters have been taught that they must rely entirely on +themselves. You need not have come to repeat the lesson to them, Uncle +Thomas," returned Mrs. Prescott, trying to conceal her temper. Mr. +Prescott affected not to notice her rising annoyance, which was a +natural enough reaction from her earlier nervousness. Instead he next +addressed himself directly to Alma. +</P> + +<P> +"So you think I'm a regular old ogre, don't you, my dear?" His eyes +suddenly twinkled at her palpable terror and distress, but only Nancy +caught the twinkle. "You think I'm a queer, crotchety old fellow, eh? +Well, don't let's talk about me. I want to know what you are planning +to do with yourselves—an old man's curiosity. Your face is your +fortune, my dear—though a pretty face is not infrequently a +misfortune, so the wiseacres say. I understand that you two young +ladies are going now to a fashionable school,—to learn how to be +fashionable, no doubt. That's a folly—it would be better if you +stayed at home and learned how to cook and darn." +</P> + +<P> +"We <I>can</I> cook and darn," said Nancy, demurely. +</P> + +<P> +"So? Good. Now tell me why are you going to this school? It's no +place for poor girls. I suppose it's some woman's notion of yours, +ma'am?" pursued the old gentleman, turning to Mrs. Prescott. +</P> + +<P> +"My plans for my daughters can concern you so little, Uncle Thomas——" +began Mrs. Prescott, throwing her usual diplomacy to the winds. +</P> + +<P> +"That it behooves me to mind my own business, eh?" Mr. Prescott +finished for her with perfect good-humor. "You are quite right, +madam." He seemed really pleased at Mrs. Prescott's spirit, and went +on, "You do right to tell me so. I have acted in a most unkinsmanly +way toward my nieces, and consequently it's none of my business what +they do or what they don't do. Well, if you had allowed me to +interfere in this matter, I should have imagined that you were doing so +simply because you wanted to get into my good graces, and so forth, +which would have been quite useless in as far as it would have changed +my plans in regard to them. It's a very silly thing you are doing with +them, in my opinion, but I'm glad you have spirit enough to stick to +your own mind. Now, my dear, don't be angry with me. Understand that +I have come to interfere in your plans in no way at all. It's not my +purpose to use your poverty and your need for my money as a force by +which to tyrannize over you. I had these thoughts in mind when I came +here to-day—on an old man's whimsical impulse: I wished, first of all, +to put a period to the unfriendliness that has existed between us all +these years; I wished to see my nieces, and I wished, at the same +time—and in order to avoid any false attitude on your part or on my +own—to have it clearly understood that you must not expect any +financial assistance from me. Live out your own lives—think out your +own problems—make your mistakes, fearlessly—do not, I beg you, +humiliate yourselves by trying to conciliate an old man, who chooses to +do what he will with the money he made with his own wits and labor. +There, that is particularly what I wanted to say to you. Don't try to +'work' me. Don't expect anything from me. Thus, if we are friends, it +will be a disinterested friendship. Otherwise, if I felt that we were +on good terms, I should be thinking to myself—'It is only because I am +the rich uncle.' If you were amiable with me, I'd think, 'That's +because they are afraid of angering me.' Now—let us be friends. I +think I can be very fond of my nieces—but don't expect anything from +me. Is that clear? Will you make friends with an old man on those +terms?" He looked first into Mrs. Prescott's eyes, and saw that she +was still hostile; at Alma, and read her bewilderment in her face, and +then at Nancy. Again his eyes softened, almost touchingly, and with +quick instinct she understood the appeal that lay beneath his brusque +language. She remembered her father's stories of his tenderness, and +somehow she understood that what the old man longed for was the simple +affection of which for so long his life had been empty. And she +understood, too, his dread of gaining that affection by holding out +hopes of payment for it. His reiterated "Don't expect anything of me," +was more of a plea than a curt warning. He wanted their good-will for +himself, and not for his money—that was what he was trying to say in +his brusque, almost crude, way. Her eyes were bright with this +understanding of his heart, and she held out her hand with a smile; for +he seemed to have turned directly to her for his answer. He grasped +her hand eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" he exclaimed, with an almost child-like pleasure. "There is +George's daughter, every inch. We understand each other, eh? Good +girl. We shall be friends, eh? I'm a friend—not a rich old uncle, +who'll give you what you want, if you manage him right. That's it, you +understand? Now, this is pleasant—this is honest. Be independent, my +dear. Don't expect anything of me. I tell you—if I thought that it +was only thoughts of my money that bought your good-will, I'd give the +last cent of it away to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +He got up, evidently well satisfied, and still retaining Nancy's hand +in his. The other he held out to Mrs. Prescott, who took it, with a +constrained smile; and then, in high good-humor he pinched Alma's +dimpled chin playfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-day! Good-day! I'm glad I came. We'll know each other better +after a while. We understand each other, eh? The hatchet is buried, +eh? Good. It's a piece of business I've been putting off for a long +while. Tut-tut! Where's my umbrella?" +</P> + +<P> +The three Prescotts stood at the window, staring with varying feelings +at the stooped, but surprisingly agile old figure that walked off +through the rain and fog, head down, the worn velvet collar of his old +coat hunched around his neck—and with never a look behind. Then, all +at once, both Alma and Nancy broke out laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"You seemed to get along with him beautifully," chuckled Alma. +"Goodness, he scared me out of my five wits—so that I couldn't +understand a word he was saying. I couldn't tell you for the life of +me what he was talking about. I think he must be crazy. But he +doesn't seem so bad at all. At times he even looked rather nice." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I believe he <I>is</I> nice," said Nancy. "He's a funny, eccentric +old man, but I'm sure that he'd be rather a dear, if he doesn't think +that we are trying to 'manage' him as he says." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Prescott was silent, her pretty face frowning a little. Nancy +looked at her a moment, and then putting her arms around her, rubbed +her own ruddy cheek against her mother's pink one. +</P> + +<P> +"Put yourself in his place, Mother," she said gently. "He's very +lonely—he wants to be friendly—he was thinking of Father all the +time, you know. But he has a horror of our being affectionate with him +just for the sake of his money. Imagine what it would be to be a +lonely old man, always troubled by the thought that the only reason +people would be nice to him was because they were hoping to profit by +it." +</P> + +<P> +"He made it very clear that he has no intention of—of helping us in +that way," said Mrs. Prescott. +</P> + +<P> +"And I'm glad of it. I'm glad of it!" cried Nancy. "I don't want to +act and think and live to conciliate a rich relative. I think that +must be the most hateful position in the world. I want to forget that +Uncle Thomas is very rich and very old—just as he wants us to forget +it. I want to make my own life, and have no one to thank or to blame +for whatever I accomplish but myself." +</P> + +<P> +"What an independent lassie! You are right, dear," said Mrs. Prescott, +touching the little curls around Nancy's flushed face affectionately. +"You are right. You are like a boy, aren't you? I was never that way +myself—and that was the trouble. You have such good sense, my dear. +Whatever am I going to do without you?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE FIRST NIGHT AT SCHOOL +</H4> + +<P> +Miss Leland's school wore that sober title with a somewhat frivolous +air. It seemed to be saying, "Oh, call me a school if you want to—but +don't take me seriously." It was like a pretty girl, who puts on a +pair of bone-rimmed spectacles in fun and assumes a studious +expression, while the dimples lurk in her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +It was a low, rambling, white building, with a stately colonial +portico, and broad porches at each wing. In front, an immaculate lawn +swept to the trim hedges that bordered the road; in the back, this lawn +sloped downward to a grove of trees, which were now almost bare. Under +them stood several picturesque stone benches, while just beyond lay a +wide, terrace-garden with a sun-dial in the centre. Altogether, it +resembled a pleasant country place, dedicated to merriment and good +cheer. +</P> + +<P> +Through the dusk of a rather bleak autumn night, its friendly lights +shone out comfortably as the two Prescotts jogged up to the door in the +station wagon. +</P> + +<P> +The trip up from the Broadmore Station had not, however, been a lively +one, despite the fact that two other girls besides the Prescotts had +taken the hack with them; the first spasm of homesickness having +evidently seized them all simultaneously. One of the girls, a little, +sallow-faced creature, sat like a mouse in her corner, and by +occasional dismal sniffles, gave notice that she was weeping and did +not want to be disturbed. The other, a plump miss with scarlet cheeks +and perfectly round eyes, had bravely essayed a conversation. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to Miss Leland's?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Is this your first year?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"What's your names?" +</P> + +<P> +The Prescotts gave her the information, and she told them in exchange +that her name was Maizie Forrest, that she was from Pittsburgh, that +she had a brother at Yale, and another at Pomfret, and that she thought +it no end of fun that they, the Prescotts, were going to Miss Leland's. +After this flow of confidence, conversation languished and expired in +the silence of dismal thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +The hack drove up to the door, and deposited the four girls on the +steps. Then they entered the hall, from which was issuing a perfect +babel of feminine squeaks and chattering. +</P> + +<P> +As Nancy and Alma stood together, frankly clinging hand to hand, a +husky damsel rushed past them and precipitated herself on the neck and +shoulders of the conversational Maizie. +</P> + +<P> +"Maizie, darling!" +</P> + +<P> +"Jane, dearest! When did you get here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Been here hours. My dear, we're going to room together! Isn't that +scrumptious?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly divine. Where's Alice?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hasn't come yet. Come on, let's go see M'amzelle." +</P> + +<P> +The small, weepy girl stood still gazing mournfully at the rapturous +meetings about her. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy looked at her sympathetically, but she felt much too blue and +strange herself to try to urge anyone else to be cheerful. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know where we go, or what we're supposed to do, do you?" she +whispered to Alma. +</P> + +<P> +"No. I hope to goodness it's near supper time. There, I think that's +Miss Leland." +</P> + +<P> +A tall, very thin, very erect lady, wearing nose-glasses attached to a +long gold chain, and with sparkling, fluffy white hair that made her +face look quite brown in contrast, was descending the stairs. Several +of the girls rushed to her, and she kissed them peckishly. Evidently +they were old pupils. Nancy and Alma heard her asking them about their +dear mothers and their charming fathers, and where they had been during +the summer, and if (playfully) they were going to work very, very hard. +And the girls were saying: +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Dear</I> Miss Leland, it's so <I>nice</I> to be back again!" +</P> + +<P> +Nancy and Alma approached her a little uncertainly. The other girls +drew back and frankly stared at them. "New girls," they heard +whispered, and for some reason the appellation made them both feel +terribly "out of it." +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Leland," began Nancy, coloring, "I—I'm Anne Prescott—I—this is +my sister Alma—I—er——" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes. I'm so glad you got here safely," said Miss Leland, quite +cordially, taking Nancy's hand and Alma's at the same time. "Of course +you want to know where your room is. You two are going to room +together to-night, anyway. Later you will probably have different +roommates. Now, let me see—Mildred, this is Anne Prescott, and this +is Alma. They are new girls, so I'm going to count on you to help them +find themselves a little. They are going to be next door to you +to-night, so will you take them up-stairs?" +</P> + +<P> +A very handsome, very haughty-looking girl, with gray eyes and a Roman +nose, shook hands with them briefly. The sisters followed her in a +subdued silence. She was the sort of girl plainly destined to become +one of the most frigid and formidable of dowagers; it was impossible to +look at her profile, her fur coat, or to meet her cold, critical glance +without immediately picturing her with a lorgnon, crisply marcelled +gray hair, and the wintry smile with which the typical, unapproachable +matron can freeze out the slightest attempt at an unwelcome +friendliness on the part of an inconsequential person. Her last name +was weighty with importance, since she was the daughter of Marshall +Lloyd, the well-known railroad magnate. +</P> + +<P> +"I shan't like <I>her</I>," Nancy remarked to Alma, when this young lady had +indicated their room to them, and left them with a curt announcement +that they should go down-stairs in fifteen minutes. +</P> + +<P> +"She is sort of snob-looking," agreed Alma, throwing her hat on her +narrow white bed. "But there's no sense in being prejudiced against a +person right away. Goodness, this room is chilly. I wish we knew +somebody here. I hate being a new girl. Everyone else sounds as if +they are having such a good time. I feel dreadfully out of it, don't +you? And all the girls look at you as if they were wondering who in +the world you are." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it's only natural that we feel that way now," said Nancy, trying +to sound cheerful. "Come on, we've got to hurry." +</P> + +<P> +From the line of rooms along the corridor issued the unceasing chatter +of gay voices; there was a continual scampering back and forth, bursts +of tumultuous greetings, giggles, shrieks. Alma, comb in hand, stood +at the doorway, listening with a wistful droop to her lips. Two doors +down, four girls were perched up on a trunk, kicking it with their +patent-leather heels, and gabbling like magpies. In the room opposite, +five girls, curled up on the two beds, were gossiping blithely, while a +sixth, a pretty, red-haired girl, was gaily unpacking her trunk, +flinging her lingerie with great skill across the room into the open +drawers of the bureau, which caught stockings and petticoats very much +as a dog will catch a bone in his mouth. They were all having such a +good time—and they all seemed to have a lengthy history of gay +summer's doings to relate. Each one jabbered away, apparently +perfectly regardless of what the others were saying. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my dear, I <I>did</I> have the most marvellous time——" +</P> + +<P> +"Dick told me——" +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to come out next winter——" +</P> + +<P> +"Margie's wedding was perfectly gorgeous—and <I>I</I> caught the +bouquet——" +</P> + +<P> +"Tom is coming down for the midwinter dance——" +</P> + +<P> +"Who <I>is</I> that frump who's rooming with Sara——" +</P> + +<P> +"Dozens of new girls. Hope some of 'em are human, anyway——" +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, Alma. Hurry! You haven't even washed yet," said Nancy, +impatiently. "We've got to go down-stairs——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and stand around gaping like ninnies," added Alma, morosely, +coming back to the mirror, and beginning to brush out her thick, yellow +hair. +</P> + +<P> +"It'll be ever so much nicer when we come back here after the Christmas +holidays," said Nancy, busily polishing her nails, to hide the mist +that would creep over her eyes. "To-morrow we can fix up this room a +bit—if we can put up some chintz curtains, and get a few books and +cushions around, it'll be as good as home, almost." +</P> + +<P> +"But—but Mother won't be here, and neither will Hannah—boo-hoo!" And +here Alma quite suddenly burst out crying, wrinkling up her pretty face +like a child of two. With the tears dripping off her chin, she +continued to brush her hair vigorously, sobbing and sniffling +pathetically. Nancy looked up, and, unable any longer to control her +own tears, while at the same time she was almost hysterically amused by +Alma's ridiculously droll expression of grief, began to sob and giggle +alternately. Alma, still clutching the brush, promptly threw herself +into Nancy's arms, and there they sat, clinging together, and frankly +wailing like a pair of lost children, in full view of the corridor. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I want to—g-go h-home——" sniffled Alma. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I don't like that girl with th-the n-nose——" wailed Nancy. "D-Do +f-fix your hair, Alma. I-If you're l-late for d-dinner w-we'll be +expelled. Here——" she tried to twist up Alma's unruly mane, hardly +realizing what she <I>was</I> trying to do, while Alma tenderly mopped +Nancy's wet cheeks with her own little, soaking handkerchief. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I say! You two aren't <I>howling</I>, are you?" inquired a drawling, +utterly amazed voice from the doorway. The two girls looked up, their +hostile expressions plainly asking whose business it was if they <I>were</I> +howling—but promptly their hostility vanished. +</P> + +<P> +A very tall, astonishingly lank girl was standing in the doorway, feet +apart, and hands clasped behind her back, regarding them amiably +through a pair of enormous, bone-rimmed goggles. Every now and again, +she would blink her eyes, and screw up her face comically, while she +continued to smile, showing a set of teeth as large and white as +pebbles. +</P> + +<P> +"You were saying something about being expelled. Are you expelled +already? <I>Ex plus pello, pellere pulsi pulsum</I>—meaning to push out, +or, as we say in the vernacular, to kick out, fire, bounce. Miss +Drinkwater likes us to note the Latin derivations of all our English +words, and I've got the habit. You two seem to be lachrymosus, or +blue—by which I take it that you are new girls. I sympathize with +you, although I am an ancient. Two years ago this very night, I wept +so hard that I nearly gave my roommate pneumonia from the dampness. +How-do-you-do?" With this unconventional preliminary, accompanied by +one of the friendliest and most disarming grins imaginable, the +newcomer marched over to the bed and shook hands vigorously. +</P> + +<P> +"My name is Charlotte Lucretia Adela Spencer. Really it is. You must +take my word for it. But I only use the 'Charlotte.' The others I +keep in case of emergency. I room next door, with Mildred Lloyd—who, +incidentally, is a perfect lady, while <I>I</I> am not. I was born in the +year 1903, in the city of Denver, Colorado—but of that, more anon. +It's tremendously interesting, but if <I>you</I>—is your name Alma?—if you +don't get your coiffure coifed, you'll miss out on our evening repast. +Wiggle, my dear, wiggle!" +</P> + +<P> +Thus urged, Alma "wiggled" accordingly; and while she carefully washed +her tear-stained face, and put up her hair, their visitor, sprawling +across the bed, kept up a running fire of ridiculous remarks, all +uttered in her peculiar, dry, drawling voice, and punctuated with the +oddest facial contortions. Yet, in spite of her nonsense, there was +very evidently a good deal of real sense, and the kindest feeling +behind it, and her singular face, too unusual to be called either plain +or pretty, beamed with satisfaction when she had won a genuine peal of +laughter from the two dejected Prescotts. +</P> + +<P> +"We'd better go down now. To-night of course everything is more or +less topsy-turvy. My trunk, I think, must be still out in Kokomo, +Indiana, or some such place. I don't even expect to see it for another +month or so. But <I>I</I> don't mind. I'm a regular child of nature +anyway—it's just Amelia who's pernickety about our appearing in full +regalia every night for dinner. Amelia is Leland, of course. She's +tremendously keen on preserving a refining influence about the school, +and I think she looks on me as a rather demoralizing factor. There +goes the gong." +</P> + +<P> +The three went down-stairs together, Charlotte linking herself between +Nancy and Alma. +</P> + +<P> +As if by magic, the din of a few moments before had been lulled. The +fifty or sixty girls had gathered in the large reception room, where a +wood-fire was blazing up a huge stone chimney, and where Miss Leland, +wearing a dignified black evening dress, was seated in a pontifical +chair, chatting with eight or ten of her charges, with the air of a +gracious hostess. All the voices had sunk to a lower key. +</P> + +<P> +"Is everyone here?" She looked about her, and closing the book she had +been toying with led the way into the dining-room beyond, where the ten +or twelve small tables, with their snowy covers, and softly shaded +candles gave the room more the appearance of a quiet restaurant than +the ordinary school refectory. +</P> + +<P> +Charlotte Spencer sat with Nancy at a table near Miss Leland's; while +Alma found herself separated from her sister, and relegated to another +table where she was completely marooned among five strange girls. +</P> + +<P> +Charlotte introduced Nancy to a sallow maiden with prominent front +teeth, named Allison Maitland, to a statuesque brunette named Katherine +Leonard—— +</P> + +<P> +"The school beauty," was her brief comment. "And this is Denise Lloyd, +sister of Mildred, my roommate. Hope we have soup." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you any relation to Lawrence Prescott, who goes to Williams?" +asked the beautiful Katherine, turning to Nancy with a slightly +patronizing air. Nancy vaguely disclaimed a kinship that might have +won her Miss Leonard's interest, and thereby quickly lost some of it. +</P> + +<P> +"No, she's not, she says," said Charlotte. "Is he a beau of yours? +'Yes,' replied the girl, a soft blush mantling her damask cheek. +'Naturally he's a beau of mine. Who isn't?' and with this keen retort, +she again lost herself in her maiden meditations. But I'll tell you +who she is a relation of—she's the thirty-second cousin once removed +of 'Prescott's Conquest of Peru'—aren't you, Nancy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Charlotte, you're a scream," said Katherine, with an affected laugh, +and turning to Nancy, she went on, speaking in a mincing voice, and +always placing her lips as if she were continually guarding against +spoiling the symmetry of their perfect cupid's bow. "You know, we +always expect Charlotte to say funny things." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm the school buffoon, in other words," commented Charlotte, +dryly—evidently not much liking to be marked as a professional +humorist. "I'm supposed to be '<I>so</I> amusin', doncherknow'—and +consequently, everyone is expected to haw-haw whenever I open my mouth. +But if you listen carefully, you'll be surprised to hear that at times +I talk sense. Now, Allison here is the school genius. You'd never +suspect it, but she is. I wish to goodness that new waitress would +bring me some more bread. It isn't considered stylish around here to +have the bread on the table, but I do wish they'd consider my appetite." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that perfectly sweet-looking girl over there your sister?" asked +Katherine, indicating Alma, her slightly patronizing air still more +pronounced. +</P> + +<P> +"Your new rival for the golden apple, Kate," remarked Charlotte, with a +grin. "And a blonde, too." +</P> + +<P> +Katherine flushed, and tried to laugh off her annoyance at Charlotte's +impish teasing. +</P> + +<P> +"I think she's perfectly lovely." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, handsome is as handsome does, so they say. The question is has +she a beautiful soul. Now, my soul is something wonderful—if it would +only show through a bit," murmured Charlotte. "I'm plain, but good, as +they say of calico. There's a rumor to the effect that Cleopatra was +very ugly; hope it's so. There are two alternatives for an ugly +woman—either to be tremendously good and noble, or to be very, very +wicked—I can't make up my mind which career to choose. It's an awful +problem." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to take muthick lethons thith year, Tharlotte—with Mithter +Conthtantini," lisped Denise Lloyd. "Don't you think he'th jutht +wonderful?" Denise did not resemble her sister in the least. She was +a plump, roly-poly girl of sixteen, still at the giggly, gushing stage +of her life—but much more likable than the haughty Mildred. +</P> + +<P> +She turned to Nancy, with the polite desire of including the new girl +in the conversation, and went on with a blush, "Mithter Conthtantini is +jutht <I>wonderful</I>. Are you going to take muthick lethons? You'd jutht +<I>love</I> him! And bethides, if you take muthick, you can drop thience." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think I could get very far with the piano in one year," said +Nancy with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he doethn't teach piano. He teacheth violin." +</P> + +<P> +"And of course, the violin is so much simpler," remarked Charlotte. +"Mr. Constantini has a rolling black eye, and an artistic +temperament—inclined to have fits, <I>I</I> think——" +</P> + +<P> +"Fitth, Tharlotte!" cried Denise, in bitter reproach. "Why, he'th +jutht <I>lovely</I>! He doethn't have fitth at <I>all</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it sounds as if <I>somebody</I> were having fits, to hear all the +awful squeaks and groans that come out of the music room, while one of +our rising Paganinis is having her lesson. I always imagined that it +was poor Mr. Constantini," replied Charlotte, mildly. "Anyway, the +point is, that Constantini is a beautiful creature, and consequently a +year of violin is considered infinitely more improving than a year of +science. Personally, I think that the study of the violin ought to be +forbidden under penalty of the law, except in cases of the most acute +genius. I think that the playing of one wrong note on the violin ought +to be punishable by a heavy fine, and playing two, by imprisonment for +life, or longer. There are times when I feel that hanging is far too +good for Dolly Parker. She ought to be boiled in oil, until tender——" +</P> + +<P> +Nancy laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"So you take the year of science? That's where I belong, too, I +suppose." +</P> + +<P> +"Tharlotte plays the piano jutht beautifully," said Denise. "She +compotheth——" +</P> + +<P> +"My brother calls it decomposition," said Charlotte, reddening, as she +always did when any of her talents were lauded, and trying to turn it +off with a joke. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Leland rose, and the room became silent, since she appeared to be +about to make an announcement. +</P> + +<P> +"To-night, girls, there is, of course, no study-hour, and special +privileges are extended to you all," she said, in her clear, +well-trained voice. "You have an hour for recreation after dinner, and +I hope that all the old girls will make a point of helping our new +girls to forget that they are not at home. Prayers will be at nine, as +usual, and you will not be required to be in your rooms before +nine-forty-five. No doubt you all have a great deal to talk about, so +I am going to be lenient with you to-night. To-morrow, the regular +school regime will be resumed." +</P> + +<P> +"Hooray! Nancy, you and Alma are herewith cordially invited to my room +to a negligee party at nine-twenty sharp. I had the good sense to +bring a few delicacies with me, leaving my trunk to the tender mercies +of the express company." Charlotte rose, and taking Nancy's arm, filed +out of the dining-room with the other girls, behind Miss Leland. But +in the living-room, a small band of girls fell upon Charlotte. +</P> + +<P> +"Come along, old dear. Some dance-music now. Come on." And they bore +her off to the piano, deposited her almost bodily upon the bench, and +opened the keyboard. Three others rolled back the rugs from the +polished floor, and in a moment a dozen couples were spinning around as +gaily as if they were at a ball. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy, a prey to her usual shyness in the midst of strangers, clung +close to the piano, where Charlotte, without pausing in her +astonishingly clever playing, reached up, and drew her down on the +piano bench, from where she could watch Alma. +</P> + +<P> +Alma's prettiness and natural gaiety was having its usual success. The +younger girls crowded around her, the older girls petted her. Even the +frigid Mildred made her dance with her. Her cheeks were flushed, her +eyes bright again. By some indescribable charm she had walked into +instant popularity. +</P> + +<P> +Without a shadow of envy, Nancy watched her, proudly. Alma was easily +the prettiest girl in the school—everyone must like her, everything +must go smoothly and gaily for her. There were people like that in the +world—people who didn't have to be wise or prudent—some kindly +providence seemed always to protect them from the consequences of their +lack of common sense, just as kindly nature protects the butterflies. +</P> + +<P> +The dancers stopped one by one. Some gathered in groups about, the +fire, others clustered in the window-seats—one or two practical souls +had gone to their rooms to put away some of their things. +</P> + +<P> +Charlotte's nimble fingers began to wander idly among the keys. Nancy +watched her curiously, listening in some surprise to the change in the +music. She felt an instinctive fondness for this big, whimsical, +friendly girl, and knew very well that underneath her nonsense lay a +streak of some fine quality that would make an unshakeable foundation +for a genuine friendship. She would have liked to talk to Charlotte by +herself; but Charlotte was already talking in her own way. She seemed +to have quite forgotten Nancy and everyone else in the room, and with +her head bent over the keys, she was playing for herself. Little by +little, the other girls stopped talking. She did not notice that at +all. Nancy listened to her playing in astonishment. It was far beyond +anything like ordinary schoolgirl facility. It was full of genuine +talent and poetry, now smooth and lyrical, and again as capricious and +impish as some of her own moods. +</P> + +<P> +She raised her head, and looked at Nancy with an absent-minded smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Like music?" Nancy nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you really do. You aren't just saying so, are you? Well, I +like you—ever so much. Listen, don't get the idea that everything I +say is meant to be funny—sometimes—I'm very serious—you wouldn't +believe it, would you?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A QUARREL +</H4> + +<P> +You had your choice, at Miss Leland's, between studying, and doing what +the large majority of the girls did; namely, making friends, reading +novels during your study periods, and leaving it to Providence to +decide whether you passed your examinations or not. The teachers were +lenient souls, with the exception of Miss Drinkwater, the Latin +teacher, who was unreasonably irritable when her pupils came to class +armed with the seraphic smiles of ignorance, and a number of convincing +excuses, which invariably failed to convince Miss Drinkwater. In +consequence, very few of the girls pursued their studies in that +classic tongue longer than the first month. "What point was there in +doing so?" they argued coolly; none of them had any aspirations toward +college, and nearly all of them harbored a dread of learning anything +that might show on the surface, and thereby discourage the attentions +of the college youths which were of infinitely more importance in their +eyes, as indeed, in the eyes of their fond mothers, likewise, than the +attainment of the scholarly graces. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Leland's was one of those schools instituted primarily to meet the +necessity of our young plutocrats for mingling with their own peculiar +kind—"forming advantageous connections," it is called—the question of +education was secondary if not quite negligible. The daughters of +steel magnates came from Pittsburgh to meet the daughters of railroad +magnates from New York, and incidentally to meet one another's +brothers, at the small social functions which Miss Leland gave +ostensibly for the purpose of developing in her charges an easy poise +and the most correct drawing-room manners. +</P> + +<P> +The girls, for the most part, regarded lessons as a wholly unnecessary +adjunct to their school duties, and treated them as such. And this was +all very well indeed, so far as they were concerned. From school they +would plunge into the whirl of their débutante season, and from that +into marriage—it was all clearly mapped out for them, and the shadow +of any serious doubt as to the course of their careers never fell +across their serenely trustful indolence. +</P> + +<P> +There is something peculiarly vitiating in such an atmosphere. +Pleasure was regarded not merely as an embroidery on the sober fustian +of life, but as the very warp and woof of it; where the most sober +consideration was that of winning popularity and the opportunity of +social advantages, where the clothes to be bought and the parties to be +given during the holidays were already the subject of endless absorbing +discussions. +</P> + +<P> +The effect of all this on each of the Prescotts was diametrically +opposed. Alma had adapted herself to it as easily as to a new cloak. +Not having any stubborn notions of her own, she was as malleable to +such an environment as a piece of modelling clay in warm water. +Pretty, good-humored, easily led, she swam into a rather meaningless +popularity inside of four days. This Nancy was glad of, but her +satisfaction was not unmixed. She saw Alma gradually undergoing a +change that threatened to damage her own steadying influence over her +sister, and to divide their sympathies. Alma was only too ready, and +too well suited temperamentally, to lose sight of the difference +between her own circumstances, and those of the girls with whom she was +now associated. Indeed the very fact that she could do so, while Nancy +could not, lay at the root of the problem that had begun to worry +Nancy. Aside from minor changes in Alma, such as, for instance, a new +little affectedness of manner, unconsciously borrowed from Mildred +Lloyd, and her use of Mildred's particular slang phrases, Nancy had +noticed in her sister at times a tinge of impatience, and a little air +of superiority, with which Alma unwillingly listened to her when she +tried to talk to her seriously. Nancy began to feel, unhappily, that +Alma was coming to resent her efforts to guide her and advise her in +regard to various small matters, and worst of all, that Alma was +privately beginning to look upon her as rather unnecessarily serious, +and even old-maidish. +</P> + +<P> +It was impossible for Nancy to lose the feeling that she had that her +mother had made a mistake in sending them to Miss Leland's, which gave +them little or nothing that they could use, and was very likely to +affect even her own steady vision of their circumstances and +opportunities. She was continually trying to counteract the +consequences of this mistake; but Alma was less than willing to take +her point of view. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy still clung to her plan of getting herself ready for college; +never for a moment could she lose sight of the fact that in all +probability she would have to make her own living, which Alma, like her +mother, was very ready to forget, counting always as they did on happy +chance, to smooth out the future for them into a sunny vista. It was +not that Nancy was a pessimist. She simply believed that good luck was +something more or less of one's own making. She was full of eagerness +and enthusiasm for life, as ardent as an ambitious boy, and restive to +make a trial of her own capabilities. She knew that there was a +possibility of her uncle's providing for them, after all, in spite of +his own very clear hints to the contrary; but on the other hand, there +remained the fact that he was an eccentric old fellow, more than +equally likely to bequeath his entire fortune to some freakish project, +or obscure charity organization. +</P> + +<P> +It was not a very easy task to study seriously at Miss Leland's. An +earnest student was immediately dubbed, vividly enough, if inelegantly, +a "greasy grind"—and was left more or less to her own devices; but if +Nancy was not as popular as Alma, she was regarded with a good deal of +respect and genuine admiration by the other girls, and in Charlotte +Spencer she had found a really devoted friend. +</P> + +<P> +Underneath her apparent rattle-patedness, Charlotte concealed from the +view of those for whom she had no especial regard a stratum of rather +unusual common sense, mingled with an idealism and a youthful ardor +which few would have suspected in her nature. Opinions concerning her +varied widely. Mildred Lloyd considered her crude, for example; most +of the girls thought her simply amusing and odd, and hardly knew how to +account for some of her queer, serious moods. In one way or another, +without apparently studying at all, she managed always to take the +highest marks in the school. +</P> + +<P> +She was the only daughter of a very rich Western mine-owner, a widower, +who found the problem of managing this child of his more difficult than +any commercial nut he had ever had to crack. He had only the vaguest +notions as to what was necessary for a girl's career, and imagined that +by sending his daughter to a fashionable Eastern school, he was getting +at the heart of the solution. Charlotte wanted to study music, "not +like a boarding-school miss," she told Nancy. "I want to make it the +real thing. I tell you I don't know anything about it—but I'm going +to, yet." Old Mr. Spencer, while he had no objections to one of the +arts as a ladylike accomplishment, felt that it was not exactly +respectable for a girl to go into it seriously, just why, he would have +been at a loss to say. "You know," Charlotte had explained, with her +humorous smile, "there is a notion that it's all right for a 'lady' to +dabble in anything, painting, music, or embroidery and so on, so long +as she doesn't attempt to make a profession of it, or think of making +money by it. Of course this idea is changing now a bit, but people +like Mildred Lloyd, for instance, and all her kind, still think it's +not perfectly '<I>nice</I>' as she puts it." It was not in the least that +Mr. Spencer had even a grain of snobbishness in his rough, vigorous +makeup, so far as either himself or his three sons were concerned; his +very love for his "Charlie," as he called her, made him stubborn in his +ideas concerning what was best for her. He wanted her to have +everything that he could give her, and he gave her what he imagined her +mother would have wanted him to give. It was because Charlotte +understood that his stubbornness grew out of his adoration of her, that +she good-naturedly gave in to his wishes. +</P> + +<P> +"In good time, I'll do what I want, of course," she said with serene +self-confidence. "But the least I can do for darling old Dad is to +make him believe that all the time I'm doing what <I>he</I> wants. He <I>is</I> +such a lamb, you know." +</P> + +<P> +The warm friendship that grew up between the two girls had a strong +bond in the similarity of their position at Miss Leland's, and in the +circumstances of their being there, as well as in their mutual sympathy +with each other's ideas. +</P> + +<P> +It was a Saturday afternoon, late in October, when the days were +rapidly shortening into wintry dusks, and there was even the hint of an +early snow in the slate-colored skies, against which the bare, stiff +branches of the trees shivered in a nipping wind. Nancy, all ruddy, +and breezy from a brisk walk with Charlotte, had come up to her room to +finish an English paper. Across the hall a group of girls had gathered +around Katherine Leonard's chafing dish, from which the tantalizing +smell of thick, hot fudge was beginning to pervade the corridors, and +distract the thoughts of the more studious from their unsocial but +conscientious labors. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on in, Nance," called Alma, waving a sticky spoon invitingly. +"Surely you aren't going to work now, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +Nancy hesitated, her hand on the door-knob. They all looked so jolly, +the room so cosy, and the warm, chocolaty smell of the fudge was almost +irresistible. Nancy's nose twitched at the delicious odor, and she +smiled uncertainly. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got to finish my English," she began. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, bother your English," cried Dolly Parker, "None of us have even +looked at ours yet. Don't be a 'grind'—come on." +</P> + +<P> +"You're such a shark at it, Miss Garnett wouldn't bother you if you +loafed for a month," added Maizie Forrest. This was quite true—and +that was the trouble. It was just because Miss Garnett was so lenient +that Nancy felt the responsibility of keeping up in her work resting +heavily on herself. Nearly all the girls loafed shamelessly, and Nancy +had to guard against the temptation to imitate them. She knew that she +would have to pass a stiff examination in English to enter college, and +that it mattered nothing to Miss Garnett whether she passed or not. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, the point is that I've got so little to do on it that I might as +well finish it up and feel free," she said, finally. "I'll come in a +little while, so don't, for goodness' sake, eat all the fudge." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Nancy, you make me tired," pouted Alma. "If you're going to be +such an old poke, you don't deserve any fudge." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy only laughed in reply, and calmly went in to her room, and shut +the door. She flung her sweater on her bed, sent her scarlet +tam-o'-shanter after it, and then stood for a moment, her hands in the +pockets of her skirt, looking about her. The Prescotts' room was +certainly not the cosiest and most inviting in the school, and she had +listened long to Alma's petitions for an easy chair, and a new lamp to +take the place of the green-shaded student's lamp which by its hard, +sharp light intensified the severe bareness of the little place. +Besides the two beds, there were the two desks, two stiff desk-chairs, +and the two small bureaus. Nothing had been added to soften the chilly +aspect except a pair of cheap, chintz curtains at the window, and a few +small cushions on the window-seat. They had no pictures or +photographs, no rugs, no tea service—none of the hundred and one +little knickknacks with which the other girls managed to turn their +bedrooms into luxurious little dens. Consequently, they were never +besieged by bands of hilarious callers, and Alma herself was never in +her room any more than she could help. At night she preferred a +dressing-gown chat in Mildred's room, or in Kay Leonard's; even when +she studied, which occupied, indeed, little enough of her time, she +sought a more congenial atmosphere, and Nancy, except for Charlotte's +company, was a good deal by herself. But there was nothing to be done +about it. She could not go to the expense of a new rug and an easy +chair and a new lamp, and that was all there was to it. Alma felt +ashamed of the mute confession of a narrow purse, expressed by the +chill simplicity of the room; losing her memory of their straitened +means amid the easy affluence of the other girls, she became more and +more sulky against Nancy for her rigid economy. She contended that she +saw no reason for it—that Nancy was carrying it to unnecessary +extremes. +</P> + +<P> +With a shrug of her shoulders, Nancy began to rummage in her desk for +her half-finished English paper, and then sat down to it, grimly +determined to concentrate on it, and to drive away all distracting +thoughts. She forgot about the fudge-party, and an hour went by before +she looked up with a sigh, and carefully glancing over her finished +pages folded them neatly inside her copy of "Burke's Speeches." All +her work was finished, and she could look forward to Sunday with a +comfortable anticipation of unhampered freedom. It was still half an +hour before the dressing bell would ring, so she put on her kimono and, +her sociable mood having passed, tucked herself up on the window-seat +with a book. +</P> + +<P> +In a little while the door opened, and Alma came in to change her +frock. Nancy glanced up, and saw in an instant that Alma was annoyed. +She felt troubled. It seemed as if every day they were growing farther +apart. They no longer had those happy chats together which had bound +them close by affection and sympathy. Alma no longer sought her as her +confidant, and seemed to resent her advice rather than to seek it. +Instead, the younger girl had, as it were, transferred her affection +and her admiration to the headstrong and annoyingly self-assured +Mildred Lloyd. Mildred had deigned to pronounce Alma pretty, and +"interesting," and had "taken her up" as the phrase is, thereby +completely turning poor Alma's head so that she was gradually merging +even her personality into a pale imitation of Mildred's blasé +expressions and mannerisms. Alma was not left ignorant of the fact +that Mildred's friendship, like her fancy, was extremely variable, and +that she was quite likely to turn a cold shoulder to her new chum, +without deigning to provide any reason for doing so. But Alma +preferred to believe that in her case Mildred's interest would not +wane, just as she preferred to forget her early prejudice of their +first meeting with Mildred. +</P> + +<P> +An uncomfortable little silence reigned, which Nancy pretended to be +unaware of, by giving a great deal of attention to her book, although +the light from the window was so faint that no human eye could have +spelt out the words on the page. But when, at length, she was forced +by the lateness of the hour to begin dressing, it was impossible to +preserve the wretched silence any longer, or to speak as if nothing +were the matter. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you seem worried, Alma," she began hesitatingly. "Is there +something on your mind?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not worried a bit," returned Alma coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—are you angry about something?" +</P> + +<P> +There was a silence. Alma flung her hair over her shoulder and began +to brush the ends vigorously, while Nancy watched the operation with an +intentness that showed her mind to be on other things. Presently Alma +said in a grave voice: +</P> + +<P> +"I know that it's none of my business, of course, but I <I>do</I> think, +Nancy, that you are making a mistake." +</P> + +<P> +"A mistake," repeated Nancy, in amazement. "How? How do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it seems to me that as far as you are concerned, it has been +simply money wasted to send you here." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, what on earth are you talking about, Alma?" exclaimed Nancy, her +temper beginning to rise in spite of her amusement at the fluffy Alma's +gravely judicial air. Inasmuch as she studied harder and more +seriously than any girl in the school, and rivalled Charlotte in +brilliant marks, it was interesting as well as irritating to learn that +Alma considered her unsuccessful. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you know as well as I do that Mother's purpose in sending us +here was for us to make friends. There isn't a girl in the school that +you show the least interest in, except Charlotte, and +Charlotte—well——" Alma shrugged her shoulders, expressing thereby +what she hesitated to put into words. Instantly Nancy flared up. +Usually the most even tempered and controlled of girls, she could not +keep down her anger when it was roused by Alma's periodic fits of +snobbishness. +</P> + +<P> +"What about Charlotte? Why do you shrug your shoulders like that? +Because Charlotte isn't considered perfectly 'nice' by Mildred? +Because Mildred thinks Charlotte 'rather ordinary—a bit crude, +don'tcherknow?' She's the <I>realest</I> girl in the school, and everyone +of them knows it, too! She's the only one whose mind isn't forever +running on beaux and dances and other girls' faults. She's the only +one of them who has brains and a heart—she's the only real aristocrat +of the whole lot! She's the only one of them whose friendship I'd give +tuppence-ha'penny for——" +</P> + +<P> +Alma quailed a little under Nancy's indignation—she was indeed a bit +ashamed of her snobbish remark; but she did not lower her flag. +</P> + +<P> +"That's no reason why you should let all the other girls know it. We +need all the friends we can get, and we can't <I>afford</I> to lose this +opportunity of making advantageous connections." +</P> + +<P> +This last bit was rather an unfortunate choice of words, smacking as it +did just a bit too strongly of Mildred to soothe Nancy's irate ear at +just that moment. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>I</I> didn't come here to make friends simply for what they could give +me—regardless of whether I liked them or not. And I think it's the +most <I>contemptible</I> thing in the world to toady to girls simply because +they are rich or fashionable, and may invite you to parties and things +that you can never repay. And it's just that snobbish +selfishness—that complete loss of self-respect for the sake of +self-interest that makes so many poor people contemptible. I'd rather +die before I'd play the role of little sister to the rich." Her voice +began to quiver, and she had a wretched feeling that she was very near +tears—tears not of anger so much as of genuine unhappiness. She felt +as if every word she uttered was doing more damage, and her heart ached +because she was quarrelling with Alma, and because Alma was changing +more every day. She longed to throw her arms around her sister, and +kiss away the memory of every word she had uttered, but stubborn pride, +as much a fault with Nancy as a virtue, held her back. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean that I'm toadying?" asked Alma, her eyes growing wide. "I +know now what you think of me—and I know that you're simply jealous of +my fondness for Mildred," she went on passionately. "I don't know what +has come over you anyway, Nancy—you don't approve of a single thing I +do——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Alma—darling! How <I>can</I> you say such things?" The tears began +to roll down Nancy's cheeks. "Whatever put such thoughts into your +head, when you <I>know</I> how much I love you. It's not me, but you who +have changed. Can't you see that I can't let my work go just to play +around with a lot of girls who don't care a rap for me, myself? Life +isn't a song and a dance for <I>us</I>, Alma—and we can't waste our time +just for a little popularity with girls who'd forget us to-morrow. +Mildred——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, go ahead, and say a lot of mean things about Mildred," interrupted +Alma bitterly. "You never liked her. You took a prejudice to her at +first sight. You never even tried to know her. I never heard of +anything so unjust in my life! You don't think that anyone is capable +of a real friendship but you and Charlotte. Mildred is every bit as +good a friend. Just because she's rich you think that she must be +selfish—you're the most narrow-minded girl I ever knew. It's the same +way with all my friends—you think Frank Barrows is just an idler—a +conceited little——" +</P> + +<P> +"What on earth did I ever say against Frank Barrows?" Nancy defended +herself weakly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you never <I>say</I> anything. You just look—and I know perfectly +well what you think. It seems as if we can never agree about anything, +any more. Now, this afternoon you might have been just a little bit +sociable—instead of that you shut yourself up, as if you thought all +those girls were simply a lot of sillies; but you were able to spend an +hour and a half with Charlotte." +</P> + +<P> +"I had to finish my English paper, and that's all there was to it," +retorted Nancy. "In any other school under the sun work has to come +before play. Neither one of us can afford to take advantage of the +leniency of the teachers here—if I did only what they required I +wouldn't get to college in ten years. And I've got to get to college, +no matter what <I>Mildred</I> thinks of me. I'm sorry she doesn't approve +of my behavior, but it can't be helped." In her hurt anger, she had +lost her head a little bit, or she would not have thrown that last +stone at Alma's chosen friend. For the time being at least, it was +impossible to repair the breach that the two wounded, indignant girls +had made between each other. +</P> + +<P> +Too sick at heart for tears, too despairingly conscious of the +uselessness of any attempt at reconciliation, Nancy began to dress in a +miserable silence. +</P> + +<P> +During dinner Nancy made a pretense at eating, but she could not join +in the chatter with the other girls. Once or twice Charlotte glanced +at her, but with her instinctive gentle tact appeared not to notice +Nancy's blues. +</P> + +<P> +At her table, Alma was feverishly gay; as a matter of fact she was on +the point of tears. Never before had they had such a quarrel, never +before had she seen Nancy so heedlessly angry, never before had they +deliberately tried to say things to hurt each other. Waves of +desperate homesickness assailed her, and with the memory of happy +nights when they had gossiped together in their room at the little +brown house, a lump ached in her throat. She wanted Nancy more than +anyone else in the world. What was it they had said to each other that +had caused such a dreadful coldness between them? She tried to tell +herself that Nancy had misjudged her, that Nancy was wrong, and that +she was right in maintaining her ground; but listening to the banter +that went on around her, struggling to keep up her own end of it +bravely, she felt that not one girl in the room, nor any pleasure in +the world was of the slightest value to her so long as she did not have +Nancy as her confidant and dearest friend. +</P> + +<P> +With these thoughts battering at the foolish pride in their hearts it +would have taken only a whispered word to send the sisters into one +another's embrace, but the reconciliation for which they were both +longing so piteously was postponed by an incident which threatened to +make their quarrel even more serious. It was simply the outcome of an +unfortunate chance. For some time both the girls had known that Miss +Leland had planned to give them different roommates, since she thought +it a good idea for sisters to be separated so that they could make +closer friendships with other girls. +</P> + +<P> +After dinner she spoke of this again, not to Nancy but to Alma, leaving +it to the younger girl to announce the change to Nancy. She had, of +course, no knowledge of their quarrel, nor could she have possibly +gauged the unfortunate timing of the change. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy went up to her room directly after dinner, not waiting for the +usual hour of music and dancing, and giving as her excuse the pretense +that she had some mending to do. +</P> + +<P> +She did, indeed, get out her work-basket as a sort of defense against +unwelcome intrusion, but with a stocking drawn over her hand, she sat +with her back to the door, and gave herself up to the sad consolation +of tears. In a little while the door opened. Someone came in. Nancy +bent over her stocking, and began to run a threadless needle through a +"Jacob's-ladder"; from the corner of her eye she saw Alma busily +engaged in taking some of her things out of the bureau-drawers. Alma +was as painstaking in keeping her own face concealed as Nancy, though +she tried to hum a tune under her breath. The silence became +intolerable, but diffidence weighted their tongues. Each one of them +longed to throw her pride to the winds and sue for a reconciliation; +but the fear of having her overtures met with coldness held her back. +At length Alma said in a voice which she vainly tried to make natural +and casual: +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Leland has changed us. Charlotte Spencer is going to be your +roommate from now on—and—and I'm going in with—with Mildred." +</P> + +<P> +"That's—a—a good idea," replied Nancy; sarcasm was a thousand miles +from her mind, and she spoke really only for the sake of sounding as if +all differences had been forgotten; but a more ill-chosen sentence +could not have fallen from her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose—you—you're glad to be rid of me," said Alma, her lips +quivering. "Anyway, you'll have Charlotte, and she's ever so much more +congenial with you than I am." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy did not answer. If Alma had not made that last reference to +Charlotte she would have had Nancy back in a moment, but there is a +little devil who takes a delight in twisting people's tongues when they +most need to be inspired with the right thing to say. +</P> + +<P> +With her night-gown and dressing-gown over her arm, and her sponge-bag +in her hand, Alma walked in silence to the door. There she paused, and +like Lot's wife flung back at Nancy one piteous parting look, which, +alas, met only the back of Nancy's down-bent head. The door closed. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy sprang up, and crossed the room, running, while the spools from +her overturned basket rolled off placidly under the bed. Then she +paused; pride conquered the tenderness in her heart at that moment, +bringing in its trail a sequence of unhappy days. +</P> + +<P> +"No—-it won't do to admit I'm wrong. I'm not, and I'll just let her +find it out." +</P> + +<P> +And having voiced this stern resolution, she flung herself down on the +bed and, burying her face in the pillows, cried herself into a doze; +while, separated from her by a thin partition of lath and plaster, Alma +made up her new bed, and bedewed it with her doleful tears. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE OGRE REAPPEARS +</H4> + +<P> +"Hope you haven't forgotten that you've bound yourself in an engagement +with me for the theatre to-morrow, Nannie, old dear," called Charlotte +from her customary location during leisure hours—namely the piano +bench. "I've reserved seats for 'The Countess Betsey'—nice, light, +loads of good Viennese tunes—nothing lofty about it. Miss Drinkwater +had a cute little plan for us—wanted us to go to hear—or see—I don't +know just what the right word is—some production of Euripides in the +original. I said 'No'—very politely. Too politely perhaps—I had to +repeat it three separate and distinct times. I explained to her that +while I just adored Euripides, and loved nothing better than Greek as +she is spoke, my constitution craved something a bit gayer than +'Medea'—in the original. I hinted modestly that I'd been overworking +a bit lately—and that my mighty brain needed something that it didn't +have to chew eighty-five times before swallowing. Aren't you going to +thank me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I do—thanks <I>horribly</I>," laughed Nancy. "Can't you see us +sitting through a merry little Greek play, trying to weep in the right +places, and not to laugh when everyone but the villainess had been +stabbed or poisoned or fed to the lions?" +</P> + +<P> +"Gee—but couldn't we be lofty when we got back?" said Charlotte. "I'd +say, 'How sublime were those lines in Act II, Scene 4, where, in a +voice thrilling with sublime hate, the frenzied woman shrieks "Logos +Nike anthropos Socrates!"' And you would glow with fervor, and say +'<I>Zoue mou sas agapo</I>.' I tell you what, when it comes to dead +languages——" +</P> + +<P> +"It's too late, I hope, for you to get enthusiastic about the idea +now," interrupted Nancy, firmly. "It wouldn't be a bit unlike you to +get so carried away with it, that you'd suddenly change your mind about +not going—and I'll tell you right now, that if you do I am +emphatically <I>not</I> with you. I don't like to improve my mind when I'm +on a holiday—and Saturdays come only once a week." +</P> + +<P> +"You should thirst for every opportunity to improve your +understanding," reproved Charlotte, who could chatter away like a +magpie, while her nimble fingers never lost a note, or stumbled in the +rhythm of the lively dance tune she was playing. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't forget <I>our</I> little party, Alma," said Mildred Lloyd. +"Mademoiselle is going to chaperone us—I asked her yesterday. We're +going in on the eleven-fifty-four, and the boys are going to meet us at +Delmonico's at one." +</P> + +<P> +Charlotte cast a sidelong glance at Nancy; she understood that Alma +possessed all this information already, and that Mildred was making the +announcement simply to excite the other girls' curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +Since their quarrel Alma and Nancy, chiefly for the sake of outward +appearances, had called an armistice. But while Nancy had not confided +the first hint of the quarrel to Charlotte, poor Alma, who could never +smother anything in her own heart, had unbosomed herself completely to +Mildred. Needless to say, Mildred, who had disliked Nancy from the +beginning, was not warmed toward her by any of the details in Alma's +narrative that concerned herself. She knew that Alma had not told +Nancy about their arrangements to go to the theatre, meeting two boys +in town, of whom Frank Barrows was to be Alma's cavalier; and +consequently, she surmised, quite correctly, that Nancy would be hurt +when she spoke about the plan. +</P> + +<P> +Alma shot a quick, uncertain look at her sister, and blushed; but Nancy +only smiled, and asked, casually: +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to see?" +</P> + +<P> +Alma's expression changed to one of relief. +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, Trixie!' Aren't we, Mildred?" +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh. Everyone says it's a scream, and the music is perfect. I +wanted to go to a regular play, but then I thought the boys would like +a musical comedy better. By the way, Alma, I think I'll ask Miss +Leland to let us go in on the ten-fourteen—I want to do some shopping. +It'll get us in at eleven, and we'll have two hours. I promised Madame +Lepage that I'd come in to talk over a dress I want for the +holidays—and then I've simply got to get a new hat." +</P> + +<P> +The following morning, after the first study period, which closed the +labors of the day at nine-thirty, Nancy heard a timid knock at the +door. It was Alma, gloved and bonneted in her "Sunday-best," but with +an agitated expression that was ill-suited to her festive appearance. +It was the first time that she had seen Nancy alone since the night of +their quarrel. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Charlotte's not here, is she?" she said, evidently much relieved. +</P> + +<P> +"No, she walked up to the village to post a letter. We aren't going in +until the eleven-fifty-four. Did you want to see her?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, oh, no. You see, I—I——" Alma stammered, turning scarlet, and +fidgeting nervously with the button on her glove. "You see, I wondered +if you could lend me—lend me just a little bit of money. I—I'll pay +it right back. You see, I don't want Mildred—I mean this is a sort of +Dutch treat——" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, of course," laughed Nancy, touched and a little bit hurt by +Alma's embarrassment. Heretofore they had borrowed and lent to each +other without the thought of explaining why they needed the money, and +her sister's constraint marked with painful clearness her sense of the +coldness between them. "How much do you want?" +</P> + +<P> +"Could you lend me—ten dollars? Or seven would do. I won't use it +all, of course, but—but it's better to have it." +</P> + +<P> +Ten dollars was a good bit more than either of the girls had spent on +any pleasure before the Porterbridges' dance; but Nancy said nothing, +and going to her top bureau drawer, took out her pocketbook and gave +Alma the bill without a second glance into the purse. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, <I>thank</I> you—oh, Nancy!" Alma looked into her sister's face, and +the tears came suddenly to her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Goodness, you don't have to thank me like that," said Nancy, flushing. +"You know that it's no more my money than yours, dear——" +</P> + +<P> +"You're—you're so good to me, Nancy—-oh—I didn't mean——" and all +at once Alma, who could restrain her sweet impulses no more easily than +her weak ones, flung her arms around Nancy, and burst out crying. "Oh, +darling Nancy, don't be angry with me any more. I can't bear it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Alma, dearest—-I'm <I>not</I> angry—oh, I'm so glad—so glad!" cried +Nancy, in tears, too; they clung together fiercely, every hard word +forgotten in the joy of "making up." +</P> + +<P> +"There, darling, you'll miss your train. There now, it's all just as +it was. Oh, see, your hat's all over your eye"—they began to laugh +tremulously. "You'd better put a little cold water on your face, +sweetheart—and dust a little powder over it." +</P> + +<P> +They hugged each other again, and, as Alma ran down the hall, Nancy +stood at the door watching her, with brighter eyes than she had had for +a week. But when Alma had disappeared below the landing of the stairs, +she walked back into the room with a sober expression. +</P> + +<P> +A quarter of an hour later she went again to the top bureau drawer to +get out her gloves, and then thinking for the first time of the amount +of money she had left herself, realized that she could have barely +sufficient, if that, to defray her expenses of her own day in town. +Each of the girls had taken fifteen dollars to last them as pocket +money up until Thanksgiving—a little she had already spent on +shoe-laces, ribbons and so on, and she had given Alma ten. A glance +into her purse showed her to her dismay that she had left herself +exactly fifty-four cents. She knew, of course, that she could easily +borrow from Charlotte, but this she was absolutely unwilling to do, +first because she did not want to have to write to her mother for more +money, and secondly because she did not want to do anything that she +would not have Alma do. To borrow from Charlotte was one thing, but to +have Alma follow her precedent was unwise; for in the first place, Alma +would borrow from Mildred Lloyd or Kay Leonard, and in the second +place, Alma might not know just where to set her limits. Nancy dropped +the purse, and shut the drawer quietly. After all, she told herself, +she had not deprived herself of so much pleasure that she should pity +herself. It was a beautiful day, clear and sparkling, and she would +enjoy herself just as much on a walk across country as at the "Countess +Betsey." Nancy had the happy faculty of banishing any regrets for a +pleasure which she could not reasonably take, and finding a substitute +for it with perfect cheerfulness. The prospect of a free day, which +she could spend as she liked, was as full of attraction for her as her +original plan for the matinée had been, and when Charlotte strolled in +upon her, she was whistling softly as she pulled on her scarlet +tam-o'-shanter. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen, Charlotte—don't kill me—but I'm afraid I've got to stay here +after all. Do you mind awfully?" Naturally she could not give the +reasons for her default on the theatre party; and because she had +forgotten to think up a plausible excuse she flushed slightly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, come now!" howled Charlotte in dismay. "You can't do anything +like that. There's not an earthly reason why you should stay here, and +you know it." Then quickly her singularly delicate tact warned her not +to press Nancy. The very fact that her friend had not given a reason +for breaking their engagement was enough for Charlotte to know that she +should not ask for one. The two girls understood each other so well +that they knew instinctively when to respect one another's silences. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if you can't, you can't, I suppose," she said quietly. "I'm +awfully sorry; but we can go in next Saturday. If you have anything to +do, however, there's no point in my staying around out here. I'll go +on in anyway. Do you want me to get anything for you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a thing," replied Nancy, feeling an intense gratitude toward +Charlotte for not disputing her decision with her. "I'm glad you are +going." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, sit down and talk to me while I'm dressing. Alma's gone, hasn't +she?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Oh, wear your brown hat, Charlotte—the one with the little +feather on it." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear, what does it matter—Drinkwater won't appreciate it." +</P> + +<P> +"Doesn't matter. You'll be a thing of beauty whether she knows it or +not, and that's reason enough for wearing it." +</P> + +<P> +"Want me to bring out a pound of those scrumptious soft chocolates from +Mailliards? Then we can have a regular festival on 'em to-night, if +you're a good girl while I'm gone." +</P> + +<P> +When Charlotte had taken her departure, Nancy, who had walked over to +the station with her, struck out through the village for a good walk +before luncheon. The country beyond Broadmore was picturesque, and +Nancy loved nothing better than to swing along without plan or purpose, +cutting across a field here, or turning into a bit of glowing woodland +there, as her fancy prompted. In her short full skirt, her small feet +laced into sturdy low-heeled boots, she could negotiate fences and +brooks with the freedom of a boy, revelling in a feeling of +adventurousness and liberty. The sun had melted the frost of the early +morning, the ground was soft, and the air mild though bracing. In the +wide puddles which had gathered in the depressions of the country +roads, a sky mottled with huge, lazy clouds was reflected. A cock +crowed on some distant haystack. Now and then a mischievous wind rose, +bending the long brown grass as it swept along, and making Nancy catch +her breath in a sort of jubilant excitement, as it blew into her face, +and spun out wisps of her hair behind her. +</P> + +<P> +She had turned after about two miles of walking, and was approaching +the pike on the school side of the railroad station, when she heard +behind her the patient creaking of the old hack, and the familiar +clucking of the driver to his lean and melancholy steed. As it came +beside her, she glanced up curiously; then her eyes grew round, and she +stared in incredulous amazement. For, bolt upright on the decrepit +back seat, his head erect under its wide-brimmed black felt hat, his +thin hands folded on the crook of his cane, sat—her Uncle Thomas. She +lacked breath to speak to him; but just then he turned his eyes and saw +her. For a moment he merely gazed at her without a glimmer of +recognition and she had half persuaded herself that his brief visit to +the cottage had not been long enough to have fixed her features in his +mind, when his face suddenly broke into an almost boyish smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey, driver—stop! Whoa! Why, my dear child—bless me, this is very +fortunate!" With one foot on the step, he leaned out and clasped her +hand. "Get in, get in, my dear—I was on my way to see you. And I +nearly missed you, eh?" Nancy clambered up beside him, and the driver, +not receiving any orders to the contrary, clucked to his steed, which +continued on its interrupted way. +</P> + +<P> +"Were you really going to visit us, Uncle?" asked Nancy. "It's a pity +that Alma isn't here. She went in to the city—and it was just luck +that I didn't go, too." She smiled to herself, wondering if, after +all, Providence had had some hand in the events of the morning which +had kept her where she was. +</P> + +<P> +"Luck? Well, I should say so. I'd have been badly disappointed if my +surprise had fallen through," chuckled Uncle Thomas, who was evidently +in the best of spirits. "Well, well—you're as ruddy as a ripe +pomegranate, my dear." +</P> + +<P> +"I've just walked four miles," said Nancy. +</P> + +<P> +"Walked? By yourself? Now, that's a taste you've inherited from me. +Fond of walking, aren't you? Now, tell me how you are getting +along—at school, I mean. Like it, eh?" He looked at her keenly, a +twinkle hiding just under the surface of his gray eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I like it. I'm working awfully hard—I have to, or I wouldn't +get anywhere, because it would be awfully easy to loaf at Miss +Leland's," laughed Nancy; she had a feeling that he was waiting to get +her opinion of the school, and she was afraid of sounding priggish, or +as if she were trying to impress him with an idea of her industry. So +she chatted away about the girls, telling him about Charlotte +particularly, describing the teachers, giving him an account of the +routine, and so on, to all of which he listened as intently as if he +were her father. +</P> + +<P> +"So you're swimming along. Good. And how is my other niece? Is she +working very hard? Has she made lots of friends, eh?" Again Nancy +felt that he was pumping her, but she told him casually about Alma, +taking care to say nothing that might sound as if she said it for +effect, and he listened, nodding his head, and smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, now—even if we can't have Alma with us, what do you say to +giving up a holiday to an old gentleman? Is that too much to ask? The +whim took me to run over here to-day and kidnap my two nieces; but if I +can only have one, I'll take her, if she'll let me. Will your +'schoolma'am' let you come away with me? I'd like to have you until +to-morrow, and I'll get you back safe and sound." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy laughed. Six months before, if anyone had told her that she +would be going to visit her Uncle Thomas on that particular day, she +would have thought the prophet quite mad; as it was she could hardly +believe her ears. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd <I>love</I> to do it. Here's the school now—it won't take me a minute +to get ready. You speak to Miss Leland, Uncle Thomas. I'm quite sure +that I can go." +</P> + +<P> +A little more than an hour later Nancy found herself turning in the +very old gate through the unfriendly bars of which she and Alma had +peered on that distant rainy afternoon, feeling that they were gazing +into a forbidden country. Yet now nothing, it seemed, could be more +natural than that she should be sitting beside her uncle, chatting away +with him unconstrainedly. Only the fact that he never mentioned her +mother, nor suggested that she should even peep into the little brown +house, made her feel uncomfortable. Furthermore, he showed the same +coldness on the subject of Alma, so that, in a way, Nancy felt that +somehow she had almost unfairly won his affection for herself alone, +and that she was enjoying a pleasure in which her mother and sister +should have had an equal share. On the other hand, she decided, at +length, to say nothing either to Alma or to Mrs. Prescott about her +visit; only because she was afraid that the knowledge of it might again +lead them to false hopes, and to follies stimulated by those hopes. +She felt sure that her uncle had come to see her, only because he had +taken her at her word; that is to say, that he counted on her not in +any way misunderstanding the purpose of his visit, or fancying that it +gave promise of his relenting in his long-standing determination not to +solve their financial problems for them. +</P> + +<P> +Aside from the fact that, although within a mile of the little brown +cottage, she might have been a league away, and that she experienced +several bad qualms of homesickness, Nancy thoroughly enjoyed that day. +She lunched with her uncle in the big dining-room, sitting at the head +of his table, while he placed himself at the foot. And afterwards he +showed her about the huge old house, taking her to his laboratory, +explaining a great deal about scientific experiments which she did not +understand, showing her his books and his curios. As they passed along +the corridor on the second floor, he paused a moment outside a room +which was closed. Then as if on a sudden impulse, he took a key out of +his pocket, and opened the door, without saying anything. It was a +small room, rather bare, furnished with an almost Spartan simplicity; +the sunlight beamed in, striking its full, red rays on the faded wall +above the narrow, white iron bed, over which hung a picture of a +lion-hunt, evidently cut out of some book or magazine—just such a +picture as would strike the imagination of a lad of twelve. The rest +of the wall was mottled with other pictures, many of them unframed, +clipped out of colored newspapers, and fixed to the wall-paper with +pins; pictures of horses and steeple-chases, and Greek athletes, and +American heroes; one, the largest, was a vivid representation of the +Battle of Trafalgar, showing a perfect inferno of red and yellow flames +and bursting bombs, and splintered ships, and drowning sailors clinging +to planks and spars. On the table between the windows stood a row of +books, a few ill-treated looking lesson books hobnobbing like poor +relations with other more self-confident works on "Woodcraft" and +"Adventure." The mantelpiece was burdened with a heterogeneous +collection of boyish knickknacks, such as a sling, a bird's-nest, a +rusty bowie-knife, and a decrepit old horse-pistol. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment Nancy looked about her in astonishment, then, as she +understood, the tears came to her eyes, and she looked up at her uncle. +The room had not been changed since her father had left it for +boarding-school, twenty, thirty years before. Mr. Prescott said +nothing; but after a moment closed the door, locked it again, and +walked away. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to have visitors for tea," he remarked, to turn the subject. +"It's quite an eventful day for me; I rarely see anyone, as you know. +But I thought that it might be pleasant for you to renew an +acquaintance with a lady who seems to have taken a great fancy to you, +and who, incidentally, is the only woman I know who has a full-sized +allowance of common sense. Though at times she is very unreasonable +and quite as inconsistent as any of her sex." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy looked at him inquiringly, and he explained: +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Elizabeth Bancroft." Whether he considered Miss Bancroft in the +plural, as being a lady of many parts, or whether he had used the word +"visitors" because she would be accompanied or followed by others, and +if so how many others he expected he did not trouble himself to make +clear; but the matter explained itself, when toward five o'clock, the +sound of carriage wheels rattled out on the gravel drive, and in due +time, Miss Bancroft laboriously descended from her equipage, assisted +by her nephew, George Arnold. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear child, how delightful this is! I'm so really glad to see +you," exclaimed Miss Bancroft, taking Nancy's hands in both her own, as +if she had known her all her life. Her frank cordial manner sent a +glow of pleasure to Nancy's cheeks. "I hope you remember that you met +my nephew—for his sake. The idea that you might possibly have +forgotten him has been troubling his vanity for a good eight hours." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy laughingly murmuring that she did remember Mr. Arnold, and +blushing with shyness, shook hands with him. She noticed, without +dreaming of connecting the fact with herself, that he seemed to be in +remarkably good spirits, and that they quite overflowed when he told +her how nice it was to see her again, and what a jolly, funny sort of +party the whole thing was anyway. +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't going to bring George," observed Miss Bancroft. "He's +usually so tiresomely lazy about tearing himself away from his books or +his own company, that I thought I wouldn't bother him to-day. Then lo, +and behold, he gets into an unbearable fit of sulks, complains that I'm +always ready enough to drag him around with people who bore him to +death, and leave him alone whenever anyone interesting turns up—in a +word goes into a tantrum, and all but weeps with rage, so I had to +bring him." With that she indulged in a chuckle of mischievous +laughter, and patted Nancy's cheek. +</P> + +<P> +A big wood-fire crackled noisily inside the huge stone chimney place in +the living-room, and around it they all gathered in that comfortable, +sociable spirit which is the characteristic mood for tea-time; everyone +felt that they had really known everyone else rather longer than they +had, and while Miss Bancroft poured out their tea, and chattered away +with Uncle Thomas, who stood upright on the hearth-rug, drinking his +tea from the mantelpiece, Nancy and Mr. Arnold chatted away as if it +were impossible to say everything they wanted to in the course of one +short hour or so. As a rule Nancy had a very hard time overcoming her +shyness when she had to talk to a young man. She always felt that she +might say something that they wouldn't understand, or which they might +think affected or priggish—which were the two last sins in the world +which she would have wished to be accused of, or with which anyone +could accuse her. But with Mr. Arnold, she lost every atom of +self-consciousness. He had travelled a great deal, and he had seen the +world through a prism of mingled humor and sensitiveness, which gave +his conversation the charm of a very original viewpoint on everything. +He told her droll stories about his school days in England and +Switzerland; recounted innumerable anecdotes about the various people +he had seen, many of whom were celebrated for their brains or their +follies; and altogether managed to make an hour shorter than many a +minute. And in some way, while he talked, he had a way of flattering +the shy young girl not by words, but by a hundred indescribable little +attentions, paid unconsciously, no doubt, and simply because he was +thoroughly delighted to see her again. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear, you mustn't fail to pay me a visit during the holidays," Miss +Bancroft urged. "Remember that your father was a very great favorite +of mine—and I should like to be a favorite of yours, if Uncle Thomas +doesn't supplant me, quite." +</P> + +<P> +The old lady bent and kissed Nancy warmly as she prepared to take her +departure. +</P> + +<P> +When the carriage had driven away Nancy and her uncle sat before the +fire for a long time. To remember that afternoon was always a delight +to Nancy; and she particularly liked to recall the memory of sitting +there, as the dusk grew deeper in the room and the daylight faded away +into pale tints, and then into a deep, quiet blue, while they sat and +watched the fire. The flames had died down, but the long logs were +wrapped in a hot, red glow, and every now and then they would pop +softly and a spark would drop down into the ruddy embers. +</P> + +<P> +When dinner was over they sat by that fireside until bedtime, chatting +away with a thoroughly delightful sense of camaraderie. +</P> + +<P> +Absolutely forgetting her mother and sister's ground of interest in +Uncle Thomas, Nancy talked to him quite freely about her ambitions +without the slightest feeling of constraint, impressing him +unconsciously more than she could have done by the most fervid +protestations with her sincerely eager wish to make her life for +herself and by herself. And he liked her earnest, youthful spirit of +independence, perfectly innocent of any pose of +"strong-mindedness"—which to a man like Mr. Prescott would have +constituted one of the most unforgivable of feminine failings, ranking +equally with the other extreme, of which poor, pretty, helpless Mrs. +Prescott was an example. +</P> + +<P> +"So you want to work your way through college? What's the idea?" he +asked a bit gruffly. "A pretty girl like you, I should think, would +only be planning to marry and settle down in a home of her own." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy colored. +</P> + +<P> +"That would be awfully nice, but one can't make it a business, Uncle +Thomas, or all the niceness would go out of it. I think one ought to +plan out all the difficult things, and leave all the—the dreadfully +nice things to Chance, or Providence,—or—well, just let them happen +where they belong." +</P> + +<P> +"You're a little Madame Solomon, aren't you, eh?" said Uncle Thomas +with a short chuckle. "And how are you going to work your way through +college? I shouldn't think that Miss Leland's would be exactly the +place for a young lady with your ideas." +</P> + +<P> +"It wouldn't be, if I aired them all over the place—but I've learned +to keep my ideas to myself," said Nancy, thinking how Mildred Lloyd +would scoff at her "highbrow" ambitions. Uncle Thomas shot a quick, +keen glance at her from under his bushy brows. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you are a wise young lady. Now, who in the world taught you +that—to keep your ideas to yourself? Eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, there's nothing very wise in that," said Nancy, surprised at his +tone of warm approval. "I know what I want, and if I'm with people who +think it's a foolish thing to want, why, I don't talk about it—that's +all." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, my dear, permit me to say that I think that in time you are +going to have even more sense than my good Elizabeth." +</P> + +<P> +"You—you aren't laughing at me, Uncle Thomas? Do you think I'm trying +to show off?" asked Nancy timidly, unwilling to believe his sincere +praise; and she looked anxiously and shyly into his face to detect a +smile if there was one. But there wasn't. +</P> + +<P> +"Laughing at you? My dear child—what nonsense! Bless my soul, but +you are certainly my boy's daughter!" +</P> + +<P> +Then, after a short silence, and just as Nancy was on the point of +telling him an amusing little incident about Charlotte, he interrupted +her abruptly and irrelevantly: +</P> + +<P> +"I say,—you like that young man, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"What young man?" gasped Nancy, turning scarlet. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>That</I> young man," repeated Uncle Thomas, pettishly. "Elizabeth's +boy—Arnold—that author-person." +</P> + +<P> +"Author?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Bless me, didn't he tell you how famous he is? Do you like him, +I say?" Uncle Thomas was quite fierce. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes. I think he's awfully nice. I—I don't know him very well," +said Nancy, in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Hum. Well, he's a nice fellow. Clever chap. Elizabeth dotes on him, +but he doesn't let her think for him. But he's not good enough for +you. You go along to college. If you won't get any silly notions +about marrying and all that nonsense, I—I'll—well, maybe I'll give +you a lift here and there, though it's strictly against my principles." +After which involved and very cryptic remark Uncle Thomas stiffly +offered her his cheek to kiss, and sent her to bed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ALMA MAKES COMPLICATIONS +</H4> + +<P> +Charlotte was sitting in the easy chair which she had imported to her +new lodging with the rest of her belongings, munching peanuts. Her +bushy brown hair was pinned up into a droll little "nubbin" on top of +her head, her goggles had slipped down almost to the tip of her nose, +and altogether her attitude, when Nancy burst in upon her late on +Sunday afternoon, gave evidence that she was in a thoughtful mood. She +had often said that peanuts always disposed her to meditation. With +her feet on the window-seat she gazed out upon a rather dreary scene of +fog and rain, hardly blinking her big, heavy-lidded eyes, and devouring +peanuts like an automaton. But the unchanging gravity of her face, as +she turned around to greet her prodigal roommate, told Nancy that there +was really some serious matter on her friend's mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello! Have a good time?" was her only greeting. +</P> + +<P> +"Very. Did you like the play yesterday? I—I hope you understood why +I—I mean after I had told you that I had to stay here——" +</P> + +<P> +"Nancy, you know you don't have to explain anything to me. If you +couldn't go with me, don't you suppose that I knew that you had your +own reasons for not going?" interrupted Charlotte warmly. "My idea of +real 'bosom friends,' as they call 'em, is of two people who know when +not to bother each other with questions. +</P> + +<P> +"The reason why most of these ardent school-girl friendships come to +violent deaths is because they <I>will</I> insist on telling each other +everything, and demanding an explanation for every why and wherefore. +And that's that. Take off your things and have a peanut—or even two, +if you like." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy tossed her hat on the bed and began to take off her heavy clothes. +</P> + +<P> +"You seemed sort of grave, Charlotte, when I came in. Has anything +happened?" she asked, as she slipped into her dressing-gown and shook +down her hair. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, in a way, yes," replied Charlotte. "Nothing to worry you +really, and it's really not my affair, except that it concerns you and +Alma. It's only that I'm afraid that that donkey Mildred Lloyd got +Alma into rather a scrape yesterday. Oh, don't look so scared—it's +all fixed up. Only, if I were you, I'd have a good talk with Alma +about Mildred." +</P> + +<P> +"But what happened?" cried Nancy, who had turned quite pale, in spite +of Charlotte's hasty reassurances. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, the chief trouble was that they overstayed their time in town +yesterday. Ten o'clock is the very latest that any of us can come in +on a holiday, As you know, and as they knew, and as that little +pinhead, Mademoiselle, knew. It seems that one of the boys persuaded +them to stay in for dinner and to go to the theatre again afterwards. +So they didn't get in until after twelve. Well, as you can imagine, +Amelia went on a regular rampage. And I've a notion that she was a +good deal harder on poor Alma than she was on Mildred. Amelia is more +afraid of angering Mildred than Mildred is of angering her. Mildred +always takes Mademoiselle as her chaperone because she is quite sure of +being able to make that little poodle do anything she wants. And +Mildred, being the daughter of Marshall Lloyd, is <I>persona grata</I> here, +and can wriggle out of any scrape. I know Mildred down to the ground. +I've roomed with her for a year. For some reason or other she never +tried to coax me into any rule breaking—probably because we were never +intimate at all, and because she knew that I don't think there's any +fun or sense in that sort of thing. It doesn't take any great +cleverness to break a rule, and you don't get anything much by doing +so. If you want my opinion, I think that Mildred is a very unsafe sort +of friend for a girl like Alma. I don't believe that Alma honestly +likes her—Mildred is more than inclined to be a bully, and extremely +capricious—but somehow a lot of girls feel flattered when Mildred +'takes them up,' and will do anything she tells them to, without using +their own common sense for a minute. I'm saying all this to you, +Nancy, when I wouldn't say it to anyone else. I don't like the idea of +picking to pieces a girl whom you roomed with for a year, but I think +that both of us ought to try to make Alma open her eyes before Mildred +gets her into any more mischief." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy sat silent for a time, staring out of the window, and biting her +finger thoughtfully. She longed to ask Charlotte's advice, but she +hesitated to discuss her own sister even with this very close and +sincere friend. She hated to admit Alma's weaknesses even to herself, +and she could not bring herself to speak of them to anyone else. But +she felt very uncertain as to how she was going to approach Alma on the +subject of her friendship with Mildred; for in spite of their +reconciliation, she knew that Alma was not ready to take any warnings, +without flying up with a lot of notions about the nobility of +friendship and so on; true and idealistic notions in themselves, but so +unwisely applied that she stood in danger of losing them altogether +through disillusionment. +</P> + +<P> +"I think Alma's alone now. Have you seen her?" said Charlotte. "The +poor little creature has been awfully unhappy about the scolding Miss +Leland gave her—Mildred wasn't at all cast down and goes around +looking as if she had done something very smart. The very fact that +Alma is feeling so blue about it all, while Mildred is perfectly +unconcerned, shows the difference in the sort of stuff they are made +of. And we must take care that Alma doesn't change under Mildred's +influence so that she, too, will think it very smart to get into silly +scrapes just for the fun of getting out of them." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy sprang up, and without a word left the room. +</P> + +<P> +There was no light in her sister's room, but in the gray twilight that +shone in forlornly she made out a pathetic little heap on the bed. She +felt a lump of pity and motherly tenderness rise in her throat; not a +particle of blame was in her heart—only a desire to cuddle and comfort +her thoughtless little sister. +</P> + +<P> +"Alma," she called softly. A tousled head was lifted from the pillow, +and even in the dim light she could see how Alma's rosy, childlike face +was stained and swollen with tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Nancy! I <I>am</I> so glad you're back! Oh, don't be angry with me. +You aren't angry, are you?" sobbed Alma. +</P> + +<P> +"Angry!" echoed Nancy, laughing tremulously. "Oh, you poor little +darling—don't be so unhappy about it all." She hugged Alma tightly +and kissed her hot cheek, feeling the tears on it. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you <I>do</I> know about it. It wasn't my fault, Nancy—that is, it +wasn't Milly's, either. Don't think I'm trying to shift the blame. +Oh, I have been so <I>miserable</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, dearest, it wasn't anything very bad—it was only foolish. Cheer +up!" +</P> + +<P> +"You see,—you see—Frank was there, and another boy—and they hated to +go back to Cambridge—and it all seemed perfectly harmless—and Milly +said it was perfectly all right, and that Miss Leland wouldn't care a +bit—and that she had often done it. I hadn't any idea—until I +thought about you, and I knew you wouldn't like it. But I didn't think +about that until we were coming home. But Milly just laughed." +</P> + +<P> +"What did Miss Leland say to you?" +</P> + +<P> +"She—she was furious. She said that she was ashamed of me, and that +she was going to write to Mother—and that it was a cheap, common thing +to do." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy's eyes blazed. For a moment she sat perfectly still, breathing +sharply, evidently trying to conquer her temper. Then she said in a +quiet tone: +</P> + +<P> +"She had no business to say that to you. I'm going to speak to her +after dinner." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't, Nancy," implored Alma, timidly. "It's all right now. I—I +don't want you to say anything to Miss Leland." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, she should have been ashamed of herself to say that to you. She +is nothing but a horrid old snob—I'll wager she thought twice over +everything she said to Mildred." Nancy's eyes were still fiery. She +was beginning to taste the humiliation of having to submit to the +tyranny of snobs. If she went to Miss Leland it would end most likely +by their having, for the sake of their pride, to pack up and go home. +And she felt that she had no right to do anything that would so wound +her mother. +</P> + +<P> +"Alma, dearest, I want to say something to you—please don't you be +angry with me now. Please, dearest. You know that I haven't a single +thought that isn't for your interest—and that I wouldn't for anything +on earth try to take away from you anything that was really for your +good." She paused, waiting for Alma to say something, but her sister +was silent, and the room was too dim now for her to read the expression +on Alma's face. +</P> + +<P> +"I think that you have already seen for yourself that there is danger +in a friendship where one person lacks a—well, a very keen sense of +honor, and the other lacks judgment. I know you don't want to make any +more mistakes—you have been very unhappy over a small one, and unless +you are wise, big ones may follow." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean—you want me to—to not be friends with Mildred?" +</P> + +<P> +"I want you only to be independent, dear, so that you won't be afraid +to do what you know is right and wise, even if she laughs at you and +coaxes you. I don't like to criticize Mildred to you if you are very +fond of her; but you know that I have never trusted her, and this +affair ought to show you, too, that she isn't to be trusted. She has +always had her own way, and she isn't a wise girl. She hasn't been a +very good influence for you, as you must have seen. Partly because of +her influence we quarrelled, you know. She has laughed you out of +doing many things that you know well you should have done. I am not +blaming you, Alma. It is only because I know that in time Mildred +would make you very, very unhappy that I'm telling you not to make her +your closest friend." +</P> + +<P> +"She—she—I mean that in many ways she should be a very <I>good</I> friend +to have," began Alma, in a low voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Alma darling, you mustn't think that simply because a girl has +money and position and influence that she is, on the face of that, a +valuable friend. A girl like Mildred is very fickle, anyway. To-day +she may want to do everything in the world for you, and to-morrow she +may hardly speak to you. So long as you follow her blindly, she may +show a great fancy for you, but if you were to follow your own ideas, +contrary to her, she would quarrel with you in a minute." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe that of Mildred," exclaimed Alma, with sudden +defiance. "You have no idea how generous she is, and—and how +broad-minded. I'm sure that you are prejudiced against her, Nancy. I +know that she often appears to be rather a snob, but in reality she +isn't one at all. Yesterday was no more her fault than it was mine. I +was just as wrong as she was." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but you were unhappy because you had done it, and Mildred isn't +unhappy about it at all—as a matter of fact, she thinks that it was +quite a clever thing to do." +</P> + +<P> +Alma was silent. Then she said, presently: +</P> + +<P> +"I can't quarrel with her." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't have to quarrel with her. I never asked you to do that. I +said only to think and act as you know to be right. Certainly, then, +if she grows cool with you, she will respect you more. I—I hate to +see my sister so absolutely a—a—I mean I hate to see you doing +blindly everything Mildred does. Because she thinks it silly and +'high-brow' to study hard, you don't study. I hate to see you so +afraid to lose a friend that you will go against your own conscience +and judgment just to keep her good-will. It's just—snobbery, +Alma—and it's worse than even Mildred's snobbery, because it's +cowardly, while hers is just—impudent." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't let you say such things, Nancy," cried Alma, shaking off her +sister's hand. "I—I couldn't go on rooming with Mildred if I believed +what you say of her, and I won't listen to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Alma—don't, <I>don't</I> let us quarrel again," pleaded Nancy. "Why +can't you believe that it's almost unbearably hard for me to say these +things to you? I am a coward, too, because I'm so afraid of losing one +little jot of your affection, that I would rather a thousand times hold +my tongue than say anything to make you angry. But I can't be silent." +</P> + +<P> +"You've made me more unhappy now than I was before," said Alma, +sullenly. "Do you want me to be a hypocrite, and pretend to be fond of +Mildred still, while I'm believing what you want me to believe of her?" +</P> + +<P> +Nancy got up, feeling quite desperate about the failure of her attempts +to show Alma her danger. While she was thinking of something to say +she walked over to the door and switched on the light. Just as she +turned, she saw Alma make a quick movement—but Alma was not quick +enough to grasp a handsome fur neck-piece off the chair and whisk it +behind the pillow before Nancy saw her. Alma blushed crimson. If it +had not been for that swift action and the guilty blush, Nancy would +not even have noticed the scarf—or, if she had, she would simply have +thought that it was one of Mildred's. For some reason she flushed +herself, and Stood staring blankly at Alma, curiously ashamed of Alma's +own guilty expression. Then Alma slowly drew the scarf from its +hiding-place, and tried to laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"You're going to scold me for my extravagance now, Nancy. I—I got +this to-day. I was hiding it, because I didn't—I mean I was afraid +you might read me a lecture." She attempted an air of playful +penitence, but it was rather a failure. It was a very expensive fur, +long and fluffy, and beautifully lined with frilled chiffon. +</P> + +<P> +"But—Alma," remonstrated Nancy, weakly, "how did you get it? It must +have cost at least a hundred dollars. Why——" She broke off quite +dazed and frightened at the thought of such a sum, and stared at her +sister as if she thought that Alma had taken leave of her senses. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you see—don't worry, Nancy," stammered Alma, evidently finding +the greatest difficulty in explaining. "You see—it was this way. +Milly—oh, Nancy,"—she stopped and looked at her sister +beseechingly,—"Milly wanted me to get it. And she offered to lend me +the money—she begged me to let her lend it to me, and I can pay her +back whenever I please; she said she didn't care whether I paid her +back at all. And I felt so shabby in that old suit of mine, and I +hated to look badly when Frank was going to be there—he knows ever so +much about girls' clothes, and I <I>did</I> look positively poor beside +Mildred. I knew Mother wouldn't mind—in fact, I knew that it would +hurt her pride dreadfully if I didn't look respectable with those sort +of people—and the fur made everything else look just right. Oh, +Nancy, if you only knew how it <I>hurts</I> me to be with girls who have +everything, who look so much nicer than I do just because they have +prettier clothes. I know it was wrong of me, but <I>I couldn't resist +it</I>! I just simply couldn't." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy bit her lip. It seemed as if she were always being thrust into a +position where she must needs be forever preaching to Alma. It made +her feel old, and uncomfortably burdened. With Alma she always felt +somewhat as a staid and wise old duenna must feel with a pretty and +charmingly unpractical and mischievous charge. For a moment she was on +the point of shrugging her shoulders and determining to let Alma go +ahead as she pleased. She had no desire to blame Alma; she understood +too well the force of the temptations that surrounded a girl like Alma +in such an environment as Miss Leland's school; and she was touched by +Alma's, "If you knew how it <I>hurts</I> me!" She had foreseen just that +when she had urged her mother not to send them to Miss Leland's. She +herself had felt that very same sharp flick of wounded feminine pride +when she compared her own small possessions with those of the other +girls and realized that in spite of the neatness of her clothes they +must often appear plain to the point of poorness in comparison with +Mildred's or Kay's. Somehow with Charlotte, in spite of Charlotte's +pretty things, she had not been so conscious of the contrast. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I wish you hadn't tried to hide it from me, Alma," she said gently. +"Are you <I>afraid</I> of me? Am I always scolding you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nancy! Of course not," cried Alma, in distress. "I didn't mean to +hide it—that was horribly cowardly—I <I>knew</I> that it was weak of me to +get it, and that I had no right to borrow the money from Mildred; and +you have a perfect right to blame me awfully." +</P> + +<P> +"But, dear, however are we going to manage to pay her back? How much +was it?" +</P> + +<P> +Alma looked uncomfortable. +</P> + +<P> +"It really was a bargain, Nancy. A—a hundred and ten, marked down +from a hundred and forty. It'll last me forever." +</P> + +<P> +"A hundred and ten!" Nancy gasped, and then tried to compose her +features so as not to scare Alma with her own breathless dismay. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I don't have to pay her until I get ready," murmured Alma. "I know +Milly won't even think of it again." +</P> + +<P> +"You can't possibly accept it as a present, Alma," said Nancy sternly. +"We must manage to pay Mildred back somehow—soon. She is the last +person in the world whom I'd want to owe anything to. I mean to say, +that people in our position <I>can't</I> put themselves under obligations to +a girl like Mildred Lloyd. It's different if you can return it in some +other way. For instance, it would be all right for Kay Leonard to +accept an expensive present from Mildred, because she could so easily +return it, but for one of us to is like accepting a charity." +</P> + +<P> +Alma looked at her repentantly out of two large, grave blue eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I'm afraid I rather made a mess of everything yesterday, Nancy," +she said, hanging her head and picking at the soft fur, which somehow +had lost a good deal of its charm for her; then, all at once, evidently +touched by the droll naïveté of the sad remark, Nancy burst out +laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"You poor, funny lamb! I'm always worrying you to death," she said. +"Don't bother any more, Alma. I'm sick of bothering, myself. We'll +manage to solve the problem somehow. Only, dearest," she grew sober +again, "please—please don't—I don't want to say it again,—but think +over what I said to you. I'm sure that you will see that I'm very +nearly right. Come, now—you'd better tidy yourself. I'm going to +dress." She bent over Alma and kissed her lightly. As she went toward +the door Mildred met her. They looked at each other coolly, Mildred +barely giving her a nonchalant nod, and then ignoring her altogether. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, honey-pie. Don't tell me you've been weeping briny tears all +afternoon over what Leland said to you," she cried gaily to Alma. +"Goodness, what a penitent! What's the point in having a good time if +you're going to regret it like that? I have the right idea—I make it +a point never to regret anything." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy walked slowly back to her own room, and dressed for dinner in +silence. It seemed to her that she might indeed be "sick of +bothering," but that did not prevent there being a good deal for her to +bother about. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ALMA IN A SCRAPE +</H4> + +<P> +It was the custom of Miss Leland's school to hold the mid-year +examinations before the Christmas holidays, early in December, so that +the teachers and the girls might enjoy their holidays without the +shadow of that depressing necessity hanging over them, and so that they +might apply themselves to the preparation for them while they were +still in the habit of studying. Miss Leland held the opinion that +after the gay indolence of the holiday season, and when the girls were +still in the state of homesickness and lassitude following their return +to school, they were much less interested in making good marks, and +much less capable of applying themselves. +</P> + +<P> +Thus, the first week of a snowy December found the entire school in +that state of tension which seizes any body of young people when a +hostile body of older people is bent upon finding out how much they +know. +</P> + +<P> +"History from nine to twelve to-morrow," groaned Charlotte. "I've +reread the whole volume. I've crammed dates until I don't know whether +Columbus discovered America in 1492 or 1776. I've 'rastled' with Free +Silver, and I haven't the faintest notion what the trouble was about. +A long, long time ago I knew whether Maryland was a Charter colony or +not, but now I never expect to know again. I could write everything I +know about this great and glorious country in two minutes, and it would +be quite wrong at that, and the thought that we are expected to know +enough to require three solid hours for writing it out is driving me +rapidly into a state of chronic melancholia." +</P> + +<P> +"What happened in 1812, Charlotte?" demanded Nancy in a dazed voice. +"Something happened then, but I don't know what." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, that was the year that Washington said 'Beyond the Alps lies +Italy.' Which was quite true. And even if he didn't say it then, it +would have been true, so you can't go far wrong there," replied +Charlotte. "Nancy, kindly fold up your book. I am going to flunk, and +I won't have you pass. If you try to study any more I'm going to sing +the Marseillaise at the top of my voice." +</P> + +<P> +"I think I <I>will</I> stop. I really do know my history, but I'm +forgetting it the more I try to study." +</P> + +<P> +After dinner that night, the living-room was empty during the usual +hour for recreation, nearly all the girls having gone to their room +either to study, or simply as a matter of form, since it was considered +highly undiplomatic, to say the least, to appear as if you were so sure +of the outcome of your examinations that you felt privileged to take +life easily. +</P> + +<P> +What they did, once they were in the privacy of their own rooms, was, +of course, strictly their own business. Two or three, who believed +that rest was essential, had solemnly gone to bed. A dozen or even +more of the seriously inclined had hung "Busy" signs on the panel of +their doors, through the transoms of which the greenish illumination of +the students' lamps burning within told their own story. The others, +philosophically believing that if they were going to pass they would, +and if they were destined to flunk they would do so in spite of the +best-intentioned efforts at study, were cheerfully whiling away the two +hours of grace in subdued revelry. +</P> + +<P> +Alma, who had every reason to doubt that she would shine in her +examinations unless she made a superhuman effort at cramming, and who, +at the same time, was unable to comfort herself with Mildred's +philosophical indifference, was curled up on her bed, her fingers in +her ears, struggling to make the lines she read convey some sense to +her weary brain. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, Milly, will you ask me some questions?" she suggested at +length, lifting a weary face from her book. "I don't know <I>what</I> I +know." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, bother! Don't study any more. What does it matter even if you +don't pass?" said Mildred. "For goodness' sake don't you turn into a +grind like Nancy. One thing I refuse to do is to room with anyone +who's studious." +</P> + +<P> +"But I'll flunk, as sure as fate," objected Alma, "and—and I don't +want to, Milly." +</P> + +<P> +"You're a bit late finding that out. It's not going to do you a bit of +good to stuff now." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't your father and mother mind if you don't pass?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mother doesn't care a bit. She is always worrying herself to +death for fear I'm overstudying. Dad sometimes rows at me about my bad +marks, but Mother always takes my part. Besides this is my last year +of school, and what earthly good will Latin or Algebra do me when I +come out?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose they really aren't much use," agreed Alma, finding this a +very comforting notion. "Of course, it's different with Nancy; she +wants to go to college." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, of course if one wants to be a school teacher," said Mildred +with a very faint sneer. "But that's a ridiculous idea for anyone +who's as pretty as you are." +</P> + +<P> +Alma hesitated; she felt the slight cast on Nancy in Mildred's remark, +but she was afraid to resent it, and told herself that she would not be +justified in doing so. She was silent for a moment, wondering why she +liked Mildred, when Mildred did not like Nancy. Perhaps,—she was +unwilling to admit this supposition, but it formed itself hazily in her +mind—perhaps she herself did not <I>really</I> like Mildred. Perhaps way +down inside of her she shared her sister's distrust of the girl. But +why didn't she admit it? Because she was flattered with being the +chosen friend of the most important girl in the school? Because she +had accepted favors from Mildred? She blushed involuntarily as these +thoughts glided through her mind. +</P> + +<P> +She did not want to quarrel with Mildred, even when she knew that she +was right and her roommate in the wrong, because she hoped that Mildred +would invite her to visit her, and that through Mildred she might have +some good times. She wished that Mildred wouldn't make mean little +remarks about Nancy, because she felt ashamed of herself for not openly +resenting them. +</P> + +<P> +At length, however, she threw aside her book, and lent her rapt +attention to Mildred's chatter about the coming holidays. In a little +while other girls joined them, and the next hour of gossip drove away +her uneasiness for the coming day, and her uncomfortable reflections. +</P> + +<P> +The last examination which was in Latin ended on Friday at noon. On +the Wednesday of the following week the reports had been posted on the +bulletin-board, and at the eleven o'clock recess some twenty girls were +clustered around them struggling to get near enough to read their +marks. Those who were closest called out the percentages to the others +who pelted them with agitated questions. +</P> + +<P> +"You got seventy-six in French, Denise. Good enough. Good heavens, +Nancy Prescott, you made <I>ninety-two</I> in history, and Charlotte Spencer +<I>ninety-four</I>. Ye gods and little fishes, I passed my +Algebra—sixty-eight! Catch me, somebody; I'm going to faint." +</P> + +<P> +"Kay Leonard flunked everything but her French," whispered another. +"Well, it won't disturb her at all. What did I make in Latin?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eighty-eight. Good for you. Drinkwater doesn't make anyone a present +of her marks. I just scraped through. I say, Alma! Alma Prescott, +what happened to you on your Latin?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" asked Alma, peering over Allison's shoulder, and turning a +little pale. "Did—did I flunk very badly?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it just says 'Cancelled' after your name. Didn't you take your +exam?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I took it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, there—you can see for yourself. It just has 'Cancelled.'" +</P> + +<P> +A queer silence fell upon the chattering group of girls and for several +dreadful moments every eye was turned on Alma, who, white as a sheet, +was staring blankly at the uncompromising word written after her name. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I can't understand," she said presently, in a scared, voice. "I +<I>did</I> take the examination—and I thought I really got through. I +can't understand. Why should it be cancelled?" She turned her big, +frightened eyes to Nancy, who, as pale as she was, only stared back at +her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should my examination be cancelled?" repeated Alma, dazedly. "Was +anyone else's cancelled too?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. One, two, six girls flunked—and—for goodness' <I>sake</I>—Mildred +Lloyd made the highest mark, Ninety-three! Mildred Lloyd, come here, +and get your medal! Congratulations!" +</P> + +<P> +Mildred strolled up nonchalantly, glanced at the board and turned away; +only Nancy followed her curiously with her eyes. Then she turned to +Alma. +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you any idea why your examination was cancelled?" she asked, +in an odd voice that sounded as if her throat was dry. Alma shook her +head. +</P> + +<P> +"It's very strange. Come and let's ask Miss Drinkwater. Maybe it's +only that your paper was lost or something like that." She tried to +sound comforting, but she had no faith in her suggestion. Just then, +however, the bell rang, and the girls had to go to their desks. Miss +Leland took her place at one end of the room and stood waiting for +silence. Everyone felt that she was there to make some important +announcement and her grave, cold expression led all of them to suspect +that it was not an entirely pleasant one. +</P> + +<P> +She waited a moment after the room was silent. Alma looked piteously +at Nancy, with a glance that said, "She's going to say something about +me." Nancy kept her eyes fixedly on Miss Leland. Her lips were +pressed together tightly, and her hands had grown as cold and damp as +though she had just taken them out of ice-water. Her heart was beating +so heavily that the frill on her shirt-waist trembled. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Leland took a step forward, straightened a book on the big desk, +and then looked up. +</P> + +<P> +"Girls, for the first time in the history of this school, I am +compelled to make an announcement that is as great a humiliation to me +as it must be to you," she said, in a quiet, even voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Ever since this school was founded there has never until now been any +occasion when I have been forced to doubt the honor of one of my +pupils." She made another pause, and in that silence an electric +thrill seemed to pass through each one of the girls; some of them +flushed scarlet and others went white, as though each one felt in a +hazy way some share in the guilt of the unnamed culprit. +</P> + +<P> +"For the first time in eighteen years one of my teachers has had to +bring to my attention the fact that a pupil of this school attempted to +<I>cheat</I> in an examination. That examination has, of course, been +cancelled, so that that girl's attempt to win a high mark, +<I>dishonestly</I>, availed her nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not need, I am sure, to incite in you feelings of disgust and +shame for that girl's action. Your own sense of honor makes any +warnings on my part superfluous and insulting to you. +</P> + +<P> +"Fortunately, the imposition was discovered, because that girl most +unwisely left the interlinear translation of Virgil's Æneid, which she +had used to assist her in the examination, on her desk, where it was +found, and brought to me. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not choose to announce the name of that girl, much as she merits +the public disgrace. I shall speak to her privately, and if she can +offer, which is not likely, any defense of her action, I may soften her +punishment. Otherwise, I have no choice left to me than to expel her +from a school which she has disgraced. Now, you may go to your +class-rooms." +</P> + +<P> +The girls rose in silence, and hardly knowing what they were doing, +began feverishly to collect their books and papers. But neither Alma +nor Nancy moved. In a few moments the assembly hall was empty, save +for the two sisters, neither of whom seemed to have been conscious of +the curious glances cast at them by the other girls as they went out. +</P> + +<P> +When they were alone, Nancy got up and went over to Alma, who sat as if +she had been turned to stone, with a face as white as chalk. +</P> + +<P> +"Alma, of course I know you didn't do it," said Nancy, laying her hand +on her sister's, and speaking in a gentle, trembling voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Nancy, it's so horrible—it's so horrible," moaned Alma. "I don't +know how all this could have happened. What shall I do, Nancy? What +in the world shall I do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Come, dearest, let's go up-stairs," coaxed Nancy. "It'll come out all +right. Come, dear." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, now everyone knows that Miss Leland meant me," said Alma, +dully. "Am I going to be expelled; Nancy? I can't stand it—I won't +stand it. Come on, Nancy, let's get our things and go home." +</P> + +<P> +"Alma, darling, you <I>didn't</I> do it?" cried Nancy, the very shadow of +such a doubt making her feel faint and ill. Alma lifted a wan face and +smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't <I>know</I> that I didn't do it," she said, drearily. "If they +found a trot on my desk—and it must have been my desk, because mine +was the only examination that was cancelled—why, how can I prove that +I wasn't using it?" +</P> + +<P> +"But you don't even own such a thing! You wouldn't dream of having +one. In some schools girls are allowed to use interlinear translations +for their daily work, but it's not permitted here, and it wouldn't have +entered your mind to get one. Come, we'll go to Miss Leland at once. +She's alone in her office now." +</P> + +<P> +Alma let herself be guided up to the principal's cosy little sanctum, +where Miss Leland was seated at her desk writing. A wood-fire +smoldered with friendly warmth on the brightly burnished andirons, and +a clear, wintry sunlight fell in through the curtained windows, where a +perfect garden of indoor plants bloomed gaily. But all these pleasant, +homelike things seemed to share the chill hostility of Miss Leland's +level glance, as the two sisters stood looking at her timidly from the +threshold of the open door. +</P> + +<P> +"You may come in," she said, with a curt nod. "No doubt, Alma, you +wish to offer some explanation. Be seated." +</P> + +<P> +"My sister wanted to say that there was a mistake. The book you +referred to was never in her possession, and she did not use it at her +examination," said Nancy, speaking rapidly, and almost harshly, in her +endeavor to keep from breaking into a fit of hysterical tears. Alma +was quite incapable of saying a word for herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I am sorry that it happened to be found on her desk just after +she had left the examination-room," replied Miss Leland dryly, her tone +expressing her complete lack of belief in Nancy's words. +</P> + +<P> +"Alma, did you have that book?" asked Nancy, turning sharply to her +sister. Miss Leland opened a drawer of her writing-table and took out +a small volume, bound in green cloth, which she handed over to Alma. +Alma had already opened her lips to utter a frantic denial to Nancy's +question, when her eyes fell upon the book. She shut her mouth with a +sudden gasp, and without taking it, simply stared at the inoffensive +little volume with a fixed, horrified gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that an interlinear?" she exclaimed breathlessly. "Is that the +book that was found on my desk?" +</P> + +<P> +"So you <I>have</I> seen it before," remarked Miss Leland. "Alma, this is a +very serious matter. There can be no excuse for a girl's making use of +any text-book whatever at an examination. A failure is to be deplored, +but it is not a disgrace—and it is to be very much regretted that you +did not choose rather to run the risk of an honorable failure than to +attempt to steal a good mark, I have no choice in the matter. I am +very sorry that I had to speak of it before the school, but I had to +make a public example of the girl who could stoop to such an act. You +understand, of course, that it will be impossible for you to continue +as a pupil in this school." +</P> + +<P> +For some reason Alma had grown quite calm, and when Miss Leland had +finished speaking, instead of appearing to be overcome by the grim +meaning in the last words, she rose quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, if you cannot take my word for it that I never looked +inside that book or anything like it in my whole life, why there is no +use in my saying anything more," she said, with the utmost +self-possession. "I don't know how it came to be on my desk——" +</P> + +<P> +"Alma, I am anxious to believe a girl is innocent until she is proved +guilty," said Miss Leland, impressed by Alma's coolness, "only—you +<I>have</I> seen this volume before?" She looked at the girl with a still +doubtful and puzzled expression. +</P> + +<P> +Alma hesitated a moment before she admitted slowly: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I have seen it, Miss Leland. But I never knew what it was." +</P> + +<P> +"You have seen it in the possession of some girl in this school?" +</P> + +<P> +"That I can't answer," replied Alma, with a firmness that Nancy had +never seen in her before. "I—I don't think you have a right to ask me +any more questions, Miss Leland. If—if you just let the whole +business go, I'm perfectly willing to—to bear the blame. Please don't +ask me any more questions. Let it be as it is. Just as long as Nancy +is satisfied that I never did that hateful thing, why, I don't mind, +you know." +</P> + +<P> +The two sisters looked at each other happily, each of them sincerely +indifferent as to whether anyone else in the school believed Alma +innocent or guilty. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, Nancy," said Alma, almost gaily. They had started to leave +the room, when Miss Leland called them back. +</P> + +<P> +"I am very anxious to believe in you, Alma. If there has been a +mistake, be assured that it will be set right. I will tell the other +girls at luncheon that—well, I must see. I am in a difficult +position. You may both go now. I would advise you to go directly to +your classes." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy was curiously absent-minded as they made their way down-stairs, +hand in hand. Then all at once she drew in her breath sharply, +catching her under lip between her teeth. On the bottom step she +stopped short and, putting her hands on Alma's shoulder, swung her +about so that she could look into her eyes. Her own were very bright. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" asked Alma; then, for some reason, she colored and turned +her eyes away. +</P> + +<P> +"I know now where I saw that book myself, Alma," said Nancy. +</P> + +<P> +"Nancy!" Alma's blue eyes now suddenly filled with tears. "Oh, +Nancy—you won't say anything. No, no, you didn't see it. Please +don't believe that of her." +</P> + +<P> +"Two Sundays ago when I was talking to you—I noticed it in the +bookcase in your room. I kept reading the titles on the books when +I—you know the way you do when you're worried. It stood between a +copy of 'Bryce's Commonwealth' and a French grammar——" +</P> + +<P> +"Nancy, you mustn't say anything, do you hear?" insisted Alma, +beseechingly. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't say anything. But—but I'm going to—you go on to class. I +tell you, I won't say anything. Oh, Alma, you darling! Go on to +class, I say." +</P> + +<P> +"Nancy, what are you going to do?" demanded Alma, as Nancy broke away +from her and ran up the stairs again. "You aren't going to Miss +Leland?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I'm not. There, isn't that the postman? You might as well see if +there's anything for us before you go to French." +</P> + +<P> +Alma walked down the hall toward the front door, where the maid was +taking the noon mail from the postman. Nancy stood waiting, half-way +up the stairs, evidently lost in thoughts which were not very pleasant, +for her brown eyes sparkled with suppressed indignation and contempt, +and once or twice she pressed her lips together tightly, as she always +did when she was trying to make herself look calmer than she felt. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's a letter from Mother," said Alma, coming back with an envelope +in her hand. "I can't read it now, so you take it and save it for me." +Nancy leaned over and took it from her. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I may not see you until to-night," she said, slipping the letter +into the pocket of her skirt. "You know you can trust me to hold my +tongue, well—quite as well as she can, and she holds hers very well +indeed. Do you mind being stared at and whispered about?" +</P> + +<P> +Alma only smiled, then, with a little toss of her head, made a right +about face, marched off, chin up, to brave the battery of glancing eyes +and whispering tongues alone. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +NANCY HAS A GREAT ADVENTURE +</H4> + +<P> +There was no doubt whatever in Nancy's mind that it was Mildred who had +cheated in the examination. But whether Mildred had deliberately left +the book on Alma's desk, or whether she had simply forgotten it, she +did not know. The fact remained, however, that so far Mildred had made +no effort to clear Alma of the suspicion, and knowing Mildred's nature +as she did, Nancy was not inclined to think that Mildred would ever do +so of her own accord. Nancy was willing to give her the benefit of the +doubt so far as believing that she had not intentionally thrown Alma +into such a damaging position. In the first place, she had no motive +for injuring Alma, and in the second place, she ran a very great risk +of discovery herself. Leaving the whys and wherefores, Nancy regarded +the simple fact; that having thus injured Alma, Mildred was not going +to try to clear her, and pay the penalty herself. The thought that +most wounded Nancy was that Alma was under obligations to the girl who +had treated her so badly. The handsome fur neck-piece Mildred had +"lent" her, was not yet paid for, and Nancy shrank from the idea of her +sister's owing money to her. She had, of course, not mentioned this to +Alma, although it had been the first thought that sprang into her own +head, when she first became certain that Mildred was the culprit. It +would have troubled Alma, who was already troubled enough, and she +could have done nothing about it. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got to get that money somehow," Nancy said to herself grimly. "I +can write to Mother for part of it—about half, perhaps, but the other +half I've got to get myself." Naturally, her first idea was to pocket +her pride, and to ask her Uncle Thomas for the money. Not even that +would hurt her so much as the thought of owing it to Mildred; but then +she dismissed this plan from her mind. It was impossible; it would be +a breach of their terms of friendship, for one thing, and for another, +she felt that to explain to him her reasons for wanting it would be +unjust to Alma. +</P> + +<P> +While she was turning one plan after another over in her mind, she +absently took her mother's letter from her pocket, and slit the +envelope open with a hairpin. She glanced almost carelessly at the +lines, written in Mrs. Prescott's pointed, flourishing hand, then all +at once the meaning of the first sentence fixed her wandering attention. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"MY DARLING, DARLING LITTLE DAUGHTERS: +</P> + +<P> +"I can hardly bring myself to write this letter. You don't know how +hard it is for me—but I deserve the pain and humiliation. I am a very +foolish woman, but, oh, my dears, I have made my mistakes only in +trying to help you both. And now, what <I>have</I> I done to you? There +was no one to advise me, and I know nothing whatever about business, +but it seemed so perfectly practical, so absolutely <I>sure</I>." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +All this was perfect Greek to Nancy, and she saw that her poor mother +had evidently written the letter in an almost desperate state of mind. +After two pages of self-reproach, it was gradually made clear to Nancy +that Mrs. Prescott had made an unfortunate investment of her little +capital, though the extent of the loss Mrs. Prescott did not explain. +In an effort to increase their meagre income, she had taken all her +money, or part of it, and bought stock in some oil interest in Texas. +A Western promoter had assured her that it was the opportunity of a +lifetime, he himself being either an unconscionable fraud or a +self-deceiving optimist. Nancy had not the remotest idea when her +mother had made the investment, but evidently the news of its complete +failure had just reached her, and it was equally evident that it had +been a total loss. +</P> + +<P> +Utter bewilderment confused Nancy's thoughts, so that at first she +could hardly realize all that the misfortune might mean; she felt no +terror; only a wave of pity and tenderness for her mother, whose misery +was so pitifully expressed in the letter. Then she thought of Alma. +Misfortune of that kind would hit both of them harder than herself, +because they had a greater need for luxury and pleasure than she. +There was nothing terrible to her in the thought of work, and of +difficulties to be overcome, because, in her quiet way, she had a great +wealth of self-confidence, the ardent ambition of youth, and that zest +for struggle which is characteristic of strong natures. Alma and her +mother, on the other hand, saw nothing but the wretchedness of thwarted +hopes in such an existence of poverty and work. They were created for +ease and luxury, just as the hollyhock is made to bloom against the +sunny garden wall. Poor Mrs. Prescott, who had dreamed such happy +fairy tales for her daughters, and who, with her own hands, as it were, +had so innocently destroyed the little they possessed; and Alma, so +thirsty for pleasure and beauty,—it was only on their account that +Nancy suffered. She understood that it would be impossible for herself +and Alma to come back to school for the next term; but that would have +been impossible anyway, Nancy thought, even with Alma cleared of the +dreadful suspicion that rested on her; for Nancy's stiff pride could +not brook the thought of living among people who had doubted her +sister, even though the circumstantial evidence against Alma had been +very strong. +</P> + +<P> +"However shall I get all the money to pay Alma's debt now?" she +thought, dazedly. "I can't get even half of it from Mother, because +she would certainly deny herself the very necessities of life to send +it. I <I>cannot</I> ask Uncle Thomas for it." She knew that in all +probability she could influence Mr. Prescott, through his increasing +affection for her, to help her mother out of their present difficulty, +but the thought of doing so was utterly repugnant to her, and, it +seemed to her, intolerably humiliating both for Mrs. Prescott and Alma. +She was afraid that Mrs. Prescott, learning that Uncle Thomas had shown +a favoritism for her, might urge her to this course, and she could not +decide whether she should swallow her pride for her mother's sake and +for Alma's, or whether she should insist that they fight their way +courageously out of the difficulty. So far as she herself was +concerned, there would have been no question; there was nothing that +she would not endure rather than ask her uncle for a cent. +</P> + +<P> +Her hands were trembling as she folded the letter up, and put it in her +bureau drawer under her handkerchief case. +</P> + +<P> +"How am I going to tell Alma?" Well, she would break the news +to-night. First of all, she must solve the problem of the debt to +Mildred, Only one course was possible. There was her father's ring, +which she always kept, and which was her very dearest, possession. It +was of the heaviest gold, and set with a large seal stone of +lapiz-lazuli. She might raise perhaps thirty-five or forty dollars on +it—which left about seventy still to be found by hook or crook. Never +had any sum appeared so gigantic to Nancy. She could see no other +possible means of getting it than by borrowing it temporarily from +Charlotte, and paying it back by one way or another during the +holidays. She knew that Charlotte would be glad to lend it to her, but +she shrank from the thought of putting their friendship to such a use. +However, there was no help for it. In Alma's pocketbook she found +enough money to pay her way into the city. Her mother would certainly +be sending them a little more in a day or two for their return home. +She took the money—two or three dollars, left from the ten which Alma +had borrowed from her,—and began to change into her suit, thinking, +meanwhile, with a smile of incredulity, of the imprudence of sending +herself and Alma to one of the very schools where their poverty would +be contrasted with the abundance of Mildred Lloyds and Katherine +Leonards. +</P> + +<P> +When she was ready for town, she went to Miss Leland's office, and told +her simply that she had just received a letter from her mother which +made it necessary to go to the city without delay. Miss Leland gave +the consent, which Nancy, in her excited state of mind, was ready to go +with or without. She caught the next train to New York, and by +one-thirty was in the Grand Central Station, wondering where on earth, +now that she was there, she would be able to get the money on the ring. +She had a vague idea that the only possible place would be some +pawn-shop, and she had read in Nicholas Nickleby that one can tell a +pawn-shop by three golden balls hanging in front of it, and also that +one would be likely to find it only in a squalid section of the +business district. The dealer would certainly be Jewish, and he would +in all probability not give her a tenth of what the ring was worth. +None of these thoughts were likely to raise her spirits at all, and, +when at length she found herself outside a dirty little shop on lower +Sixth Avenue, gazing in upon a window display of dusty violins and +guitars, travelling bags and tawdry jewelry, while above her the +traditional golden balls creaked in a sharp wind, her courage all but +failed her. She was frankly terrified by the sordid strangeness of her +environment, by the dirty, sodden loafers that shuffled past her, and +by the thought of haggling for money over the counter of that dingy and +even sinister-looking little shop. At length, however, she plucked up +courage and, with her heart in her throat, entered. +</P> + +<P> +The front part of the shop was empty and very dark. At the back was a +swinging door, leading into another room, from which issued the sound +of voices of two men. The little bell over the front door had rung as +Nancy entered, to apprise the shopkeeper of a customer, and under the +swinging door she saw a pair of shuffling feet moving toward it. The +shopkeeper emerged, followed by the other man, who was evidently a +customer come to make a purchase of some antique piece; for the +pawnbroker seemed to deal in old bric-à-brac and what not, besides his +regular historic business of money-lending. +</P> + +<P> +"I vill gif you dat box for vun hundert dollars,—mit dat it iss a +gift," the shopkeeper was saying doggedly, as he came toward Nancy, and +the other man, following him, laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you certainly give awfully expensive presents," he remarked. "A +hundred dollars, you old rascal—no one on earth would give that for a +little box." +</P> + +<P> +"Vell, only try to duplicate it—you vill not find such a handsome +piece dis side de ocean," returned the shopkeeper with a shrug. "Vot +can I do for you, young lady?" +</P> + +<P> +But Nancy had temporarily lost all power of speech. She was not sure, +indeed, that she wasn't dreaming—it was all so utterly strange, and +whimsical, and impossible, that surely it could be so only in a dream. +For the young man who had followed the pawnbroker out of the inner room +was George Arnold! She was standing with her back to the door, but the +light that came through the dirty glass shone squarely on his face, so +that if she had not already recognized his voice she would have +recognized his features beyond the shadow of a doubt. Her first +impulse was to turn and fly, or to conceal herself hastily in one of +the odd little sentry boxes, which were evidently designed to preserve +the incognito of the pawnbroker's indigent customers. But already Mr. +Arnold had cast a second curious glance at the unusual sight of a +well-dressed, well-bred young girl in such surroundings, and with that +second glance he had recognized her. His mouth opened slightly in a +repressed gasp of astonishment. Probably, with a moment's thought, he +might have pretended that he had not recognized her, in order to spare +her any embarrassment, but he had already exclaimed, involuntarily: +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Miss Prescott!" and had taken a step toward her. Nancy turned +scarlet, and could only gaze at him helplessly. +</P> + +<P> +"How can I serve you, young lady?" repeated the shopkeeper. Nancy +hesitated, in a perfect agony of embarrassment, while Mr. Arnold +continued to look at her, evidently very much at a loss. On the one +hand, he disliked to discomfit her by being present while she +transacted her business with old Zeigler, the pawnbroker, and on the +other, he was equally unwilling to leave her to be swindled, as she +very probably would be. Furthermore, while he realized that he had no +business to inquire into her affairs, and that, to say the least, it +would be the height of bad taste to do so, nevertheless he felt that +she was in some difficulty and needed advice. The squalid little shop +was an odd place in which to find the niece of old Thomas Prescott; for +it was not likely that she had come there as he had, to browse around +in a dilettante search for curios. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy read the question, "What are you here for?" in his face, and +guessed his indecision. On her part she wished fervently that he would +go, and was racking her brains for some excuse to leave the shop and to +come back later. But her frantic efforts at evolving some plan of +escape within the space of fifteen seconds were fruitless. Zeigler for +the third time repeated his question to her with a touch of impatience. +Then Mr. Arnold desperately took the bull by the horns, and with a +touch of pretended gaiety asked with a laugh: +</P> + +<P> +"Are you in search of adventure? You aren't running away from school, +are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—that is——" stammered Nancy; then, driven to take him into her +confidence to some extent, and trying to put her situation in the light +of a prank, she laughed mischievously, and added with an air of candor, +"You've caught me." +</P> + +<P> +"What are you up to, young lady? Selling the family plate?" inquired +Mr. Arnold boldly, and speaking to her as if she were a mischievous +youngster, though his eyes were grave and puzzled. Nancy put up her +chin, as if she were being scolded, and answered with a touch of +childish defiance: "Don't tell on me." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I won't—though you deserve it, ma'am," replied Mr. Arnold. "I +won't—on one condition,—that you come with me, and 'fess up to all +your misdemeanors, and let me give you the sage advice of a hardened +sinner before you do anything rash. I realize that I'm taking a +liberty, Miss Prescott, in concerning myself in what is strictly your +own affair," he added seriously, "but isn't our friendship firmly +enough established to allow me that privilege? What time is it?" He +glanced at his watch. "Ten minutes past two, and I've had no luncheon. +Have you?" Nancy admitted that she hadn't. +</P> + +<P> +"Good. I can't begin to tell you how awfully lucky I consider myself +in having met you, Miss Prescott. I wish you would come with me to +some nice little restaurant where we can decide the affairs of the +nations. Are you in a great hurry?" +</P> + +<P> +Nancy said that she wasn't. To tell the truth she was very glad that +Mr. Arnold <I>had</I> concerned himself in her affairs, which she had begun +to believe she was not managing any too well. They had talked in low +voices so that the shopkeeper could only have heard fragments of their +conversation, and then left the shop, without even a word of +explanation to the irritated old money-lender. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Arnold hailed a taxi-cab, and they rolled off in state. Mr. Arnold +had given the driver the address of a little French restaurant on West +Forty-fifth Street. +</P> + +<P> +"It'll be fairly empty now, and we can find just the table we want. +<I>I</I> shall order your luncheon for you, because I know just exactly what +things are peculiar to this place—their special tid-bits, and I feel +like ordering a regular knock-out of a feast as a sort of celebration. +Really, you've no idea how delighted I am to have discovered you." His +frank, boyish pleasure in this freak of chance was so plainly written +on his beaming face, that Nancy colored with a schoolgirl's naïve +delight in such sincere flattery. The dreaded undertaking of her trip +to the city was turning into a very charming little surprise party. In +some way, she felt that she had known Mr. Arnold for a very long time, +and that really there was not the slightest need for concealing +anything from him. His odd, attractive face was so friendly, his +bright brown eyes so full of eager sympathetic interest, that almost +before she had given a second thought as to whether she should or she +shouldn't, she had begun to tell him the reason for her appearance at +the pawnbroker's. +</P> + +<P> +They had found a little table in a corner of the restaurant, and Mr. +Arnold had insisted upon ordering almost everything on the menu that +attracted his fancy. +</P> + +<P> +"And above all things, you must try the hot chocolate, Miss Prescott. +I suppose it's not manly, but I have the most juvenile fondness for hot +chocolate, with great big blobs of whipped cream." +</P> + +<P> +So hot chocolate they had, and innumerable rolls, hot and fresh from +the oven, and various and sundry other delicacies, calculated to +cripple a weak digestion for a month at the very least. +</P> + +<P> +Drawn out by her growing confidence in him, and by her craving to talk +out her troubles to some one whose advice would be sound and based on +genuine sympathy, Nancy told him about her necessity for getting some +money. The explanation involved a good many complications, and Nancy +was as a rule unusually reserved. But Mr. Arnold was one of those +rather rare people who can understand a great deal more than is said in +just so many words, and she did not have to go into details as to why, +for example, she hesitated to ask her uncle for the money, or why it +was impossible to write to her mother for it. She told him simply that +there was a girl at school to whom her sister was indebted, and who had +played Alma a very shabby trick; and that, therefore, she felt that it +was absolutely imperative to clear Alma of the obligation to her. He +listened attentively, interposing occasionally in the friendly tone +such as an older man might use to a young one, so that she felt no +embarrassment in making the whole affair clear to him. Nor did he seem +to think that there was anything very awful in her trying to raise the +money for herself with the ring as a security. +</P> + +<P> +"Only you should have gotten someone's advice, Miss Prescott. A man +like Zeigler would swindle you outrageously, and there are plenty of +reputable places which make loans on jewelry as a security. How large +is the debt?" Nancy told him. +</P> + +<P> +"A hundred and ten dollars? You are unwilling to ask your uncle?" +Then seeing a look of distress in her face, he went on hastily: "Well, +I think I can understand. I admire your independence, Miss Prescott. +I say," he asked suddenly, with a touch of shyness, "would you mind if +I should call you Nancy? It sounds so much more friendly." +</P> + +<P> +"I—-I'd like you to," replied Nancy, simply. "It makes me feel sort +of old to be called Miss Prescott." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, and it makes me feel quite antique to be called Mr. Arnold. +I wish you'd flatter me into believing myself young once more by +calling me George." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, goodness, I don't believe I could! I—I mean that sounds so +dreadfully cheeky!" exclaimed Nancy. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I must seem actually prehistoric to you," he said with a +laugh that sounded just a little bit forced. "But if you practised a +bit, you'd probably find that it would get easier for you, and it would +please me very much. To return to business—I think that if you will +let me have the ring, I can get the money on it for you this afternoon. +I know the best place to go, where you will get something really +proportionate to its value, and on the best terms." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy could have hugged him in her relief and gratitude. She protested +a little feebly against his putting himself to any trouble, but he +waved her words aside, and she took the ring from her bag, and gave it +to him. He looked at it curiously; inside the broad finger band was +inscribed in characters almost obliterated by wear, the words, "To +George, on his 21st birthday, 1891."' +</P> + +<P> +"It was Father's. Uncle Thomas gave it to him," explained Nancy, +simply, and at the same moment both of them were thinking of the +eccentric old gentleman, whose gift to a beloved nephew was now being +used to assist that nephew's daughter in a difficulty in which <I>his</I> +help was denied her. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, how would you like to spend your time for three-quarters of an +hour or so?" asked Mr. Arnold, as they walked out of the restaurant. +"I am going off with this ring and I'll be back with the money as soon +as I possibly can. You pick some place for me to meet you." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy glanced up and down the street, trying to find some spot where +she could amuse herself. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'd like to look around some book-shop—is there one near +here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm an authority on the subject. I know every book-shop in New York, +and if you'll follow me I'll show you my favorite haunt. Then I can be +sure that you won't wander away—my only trouble will be in getting you +out of the place, and if I were wise I wouldn't let you go there under +any circumstances. But my generosity was always very much greater than +my wisdom." +</P> + +<P> +He conducted Nancy, accordingly, to this paradise, and rather +lingeringly withdrew on his errand, leaving her in the quaint little +shop, where perfect tidal waves of books rose on all sides of her, +distracting her with alluring, familiar titles, with the sight of +hundreds upon hundreds of rare old volumes, and with that peculiar +smell of leather and paper and ink and mustiness which is to the +nostrils of the book-lover as the scent of earth and trees is to the +wanderer. +</P> + +<P> +On one of the shelves her eyes caught a glimpse of a name on the back +of three or four delicately bound volumes, and she quickly took one of +them down to inspect it, suddenly remembering her uncle's remark about +that "author-person." The name on the back of the book was "George +Arnold." It was a volume of stories, finely bound, and illustrated +with pen drawings by a very famous artist and designer; and was +prefaced by a foreword from the pen of one of the most celebrated of +the present-day English critics. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy promptly climbed up on a high stool that stood near the shelf, +and with her heels hooked on the second rung and the book spread open +on her lap began to read. She had time to glance only here and there; +and it was with surprise and pleasure that she saw a sentence in the +preface which spoke of the "writings of Mr. Arnold" as being "an +example of the most delicate artistry. A talent so rare, so peculiarly +sensitive, so rich in a wholly inimitable poetry, and waywardness of +fancy, that one hardly hesitates to pronounce it actual genius." And +it was this "genius," this "prophet in his own country," who at the +present moment was hurrying off in <I>her</I> service. Nancy felt a +positive thrill of dismay, mingled with something else that was wholly +pleasant and exciting. But how in the world could she ever call him +"George." Imagine calling a famous writer by his first name—it seemed +impertinent, to say the least. +</P> + +<P> +To tell the truth, she spent a good deal more of her time thinking +about this simple, friendly gentleman than in browsing over the +book-shelves which, under ordinary circumstance, would have been so +fascinating to her. Why was he so very nice to <I>her</I>—insignificant +her? How could she possibly be interesting to a man who had probably +been intimate with many of the most celebrated men and women of the +day? But, of course, it was very likely that he wasn't particularly +interested in her, and was only that he had a generous disposition. He +was ever so much older than she was—thirty-four anyway—and probably +he thought she was a nice child. +</P> + +<P> +She was pondering thus, the book still open on her lap, and her back to +the door, when he returned, flushed with satisfaction, and also with +haste. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, I've done a marvellous stroke of business," he announced, as he +came up behind her. "You seem to have found a very absorbing book, +Nancy—aren't you at all interested in learning what my amazing talent +for high finance has accomplished?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't tell you how good you have been to me," began Nancy, +gratefully and shyly. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't been good to you a bit. It's you who have been good to +<I>let</I> me help you," he said, smiling down into her eyes. "I take it as +a very high compliment that you were frank enough with me to tell me +how I could serve you; because there is nothing, you know, that I would +rather do. That sounds rather flowery, doesn't it? But it's quite +true. Now listen—I have brought you the sum of one hundred and fifty +American dollars. That's more than you expected to get on the ring, +isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"A hundred and fifty!" +</P> + +<P> +"Here it is, in beautiful clean notes. I'll explain it all to you +presently. Did you find anything nice? What book have you got there?" +He glanced at the volume she held, and seeing what it was, laughed, and +took it away from her. +</P> + +<P> +"How did you ever find <I>that</I>?" he asked, in a deprecating voice, +though, at that, genuinely modest as he was, he was not ill-pleased. +"I thought you would have found something better. I'm not posing as +the modest author, and all that sort of thing, but there are some +wonderful books in here that you shouldn't have missed." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I didn't know you were—I mean——" +</P> + +<P> +"You mean you didn't know that I was all that that critic chap says I +am? Well, I'm not. He's just gotten into the amiable habit of saying +kind things in his old age—so that he can get into Heaven when he +dies, in spite of all the damage he did in his youth. Come +along—unless you want to look about you some more." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be ready in a moment," said Nancy, slipping off the stool. +"I—there's something being wrapped for me that I want to get." With +that she went off to the back of the store and had the little volume +tied up, and paid for it with the last cent in her pocketbook. Then +she returned. +</P> + +<P> +"All right now? Here is your money." He took a fat envelope out of +his pocket and gave it to her, and they left the shop. +</P> + +<P> +As they walked across to Fifth Avenue, he explained to her rather +vaguely the proceeding by which he had raised the money for her; but +while she quite failed to understand it all she rested upon her faith +in his superior intelligence in business matters. +</P> + +<P> +"When I want to get the ring back again, what do I do? and don't I have +to pay interest?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, you don't have to pay interest, that's the wonderful part of +it. And when you want it back, you just tell me. I'll have to get it +for you, but you won't mind that, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no—oh, you <I>have</I> been so kind, Mr. Arnold, I mean, G-George. +Only you won't say anything to Uncle Thomas—of course you won't, but +I'm just mentioning that." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't breathe a word to any living thing on land or sea. This is +our own private conspiracy, and no one shall have any part in it," he +assured her, gaily. "Only please promise me that, if you should need +any help again, you'll ask me. I—it disturbed me very much to find +you at old Zeigler's, though of course it was my good fortune." +</P> + +<P> +There was an abundance of time before Nancy's train left, so they +strolled at an easy pace down Fifth Avenue, stopping to look in at the +shop windows whenever they saw anything that caught their fancy, and +chatting together as if they had known each other all their lives. At +the corner of Forty-fourth Street, Mr. Arnold suddenly dove into a huge +florist's shop on the corner, and in a moment returned bearing a bunch +of Parma violets, tied with a silken cord and tassel. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, will you wear these?" he asked, bluntly. "You know, I always +wanted to give a bouquet to a young lady, but I never could find the +young lady to whom I wanted to give them. The flowers were plentiful, +but I began to think that the lady didn't exist." Nancy colored at the +compliment with which he proffered her the flowers, and dimpled as only +a rosy girl can dimple. His attentions were very flattering, and his +half-shy, boyish manner made them doubly so. +</P> + +<P> +"Now do tell me what book you have there?" he asked, as they turned +east on Forty-second Street. "Is it something very learned or very +frivolous?" +</P> + +<P> +With a little laugh, Nancy handed him the package. +</P> + +<P> +"You can open it, if you promise to tie it up again," she said, +watching his face out of the corners of her eyes, as he untied the +string. He glanced from the book to her face, trying to look +disapproving, though he could not quite conceal his look of naïve +pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Very</I> frivolous. I see that I shall have to direct your book-buying +as well as your business. Why didn't you let me get it for you if you +wanted it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because I wanted to get it for myself—you probably wouldn't have let +me get it." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if I had given it to you, I could have written something in it, +and that's something I always wanted to do, you know, something about +'the compliments of the author' in a flowing script." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, why don't you write something in it anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"May I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only not 'the compliments of the author.'" +</P> + +<P> +He took her to the train, and then standing beside her seat, took out +his fountain pen, and scribbled on the fly-leaf of the little volume. +</P> + +<P> +"There," he said, handing it back to her. "Now, good-bye. I am going +to see you again in the holidays, am I not? I have enjoyed two or +three hours to-day more than I have enjoyed anything in years." He +took her hand and shook it warmly, and then as the train gave a warning +jerk, he hurried off. +</P> + +<P> +With the great fragrant bunch of violets at her waist, with money in +her pocket to set her mind at rest, and with the memory of a singularly +pleasant episode, Nancy saw the wintry landscape, over which a fresh +snow was beginning to fall, through rosy spectacles. Somehow, not even +the thought of the latest and greatest trouble loomed so very black and +terrifying in her mind. She glanced down at the little book in her +lap, and then opened it at the fly-leaf. He had written, "To +commemorate To-day," and had signed it simply, "George." It had been a +day of unusual unhappiness and unusual pleasure—not even he had +understood what the mingling had been for Nancy, but the memory of the +pleasure outweighed the memory of trouble; as if ashamed of herself she +tried to fix her thoughts on plans for helping and advising her mother +and Alma; but at length she gave it up, to review the little, +delightful trivial memories of "To-day," putting off the recollection +of trouble until To-morrow. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +PARADISE COTTAGE +</H4> + +<P> +The twenty-second of December, a red letter date, indeed, for some +fifty excited, bustling girls, dawned without bringing much of a thrill +to the two Prescotts. Neither of them could enter with genuine +enthusiasm into the gay holiday anticipations of the others, finding in +them too depressing a contrast to their own expectations of a not very +happy Christmas tide. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy had shown Alma their mother's letter, and had had several long +and serious talks with the poor child, who had been almost overcome +with despair. Neither of them even thought of the matter of the +examination, that trouble having been completely wiped out by the newer +and heavier one, nor did they draw any particular satisfaction from the +fact that Alma's Latin examination had been credited, and her name +cleared of suspicion, while the identity of the actual culprit remained +their own secret. The debt to Mildred had been paid, Alma evidently +believing that the money had been sent by Providence, and asking Nancy +no questions. +</P> + +<P> +So far as the matter of the examination was concerned, Miss Leland had +allowed the subject to drop, simply announcing her gratification at the +fact that there had unquestionably been a mistake, and that Miss +Drinkwater was satisfied on this point. A coldness that reached the +condition of an almost habitual silence sprang up between Alma and +Mildred, and the fact that Mildred asked for no explanations gave +further circumstantial proof of her own guilt. +</P> + +<P> +The incident of her trip to New York with the ring and her meeting with +Mr. Arnold Nancy did not mention; feeling a peculiar shyness about it, +and a wholesome dread of being teased. Her violets had been smuggled +up to her room so that they would not lead to questions and jokes, and +had faded away slowly in an inconspicuous corner, diffusing their +fragrance extravagantly as they drooped and wilted over the edges of a +tooth-brush mug. But two of them had been chosen to immortalize their +memory, and had been carefully pressed between the pages of the little +volume of stories. +</P> + +<P> +After a first outburst of despair and tears, Alma had taken the bad +news from home with a quiet pluck that surprised and touched Nancy. +Her old-time unquestioning faith in Nancy was revived again, and she +felt that if Nancy could take a cheerful view of the outlook, why, it +could not be so very bad. +</P> + +<P> +They left for home again, on the early afternoon train, with ten or +fifteen of the other girls, all of whom were, of course, in the highest +spirits. Only Charlotte knew that they would not return to Miss +Leland's after the holidays, and her sorrow at parting with Nancy was +touchingly apparent in her effort to seem cheerful. +</P> + +<P> +It was after four o'clock when the two girls, trudging up from the +Melbrook station, through the snow, at length came in sight of the +little brown house. The long red rays of the sinking sun threw the +shadows of the bare trees across the unbroken white surface of the +lawn; and the cottage, with its gabled roof, was silhouetted against +the ruddy, western sky, so that it looked as if the light were +radiating from it. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Nancy!" Alma turned a shining face to her sister. "I don't much +care what happens—it's home, and nothing can change that! Mother and +Hannah's inside, and there's a fire, and it's all so snug, and safe, +and <I>loving</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +Nancy, who was gazing at the beloved little place with bright, dreamy +eyes, and that tender smile on her mouth that always gave her face a +singularly winning sweetness, answered: +</P> + +<P> +"It makes me think of a picture I saw once—it was called the 'House at +Paradise'—I don't know why. It was just the picture of a quaint +little house, that seemed to be glowing from something inside of +it—and perhaps because the house in the picture made me think of our +home, I've always thought of this as 'Paradise Cottage.' Oh, my dear, +let's run!" +</P> + +<P> +It was not until after supper, when they had gathered around the +fireside just as they used to, in dressing-gowns and slippers, that +they opened the council of war. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my dears, what can you do?" sighed Mrs. Prescott. "I had hoped +for so much. It will kill me to feel that my daughters are forced to +work for their living by my fault." +</P> + +<P> +"I really do think that I'd sort of like to make some money," added +Alma. "Of course I'm not fitted for anything in particular, but, do +you know, I was just wondering why I couldn't get some position like +that girl in Mr. Dixon's office.—Do you know what, she said that after +the first of the year she expected to get a position in New York, and +I'll bet my hat that I could get that very place!" +</P> + +<P> +Inspired by this sudden idea, Alma sat bolt upright on the shabby sofa, +and pursing up her lips, with self-satisfaction looked from her mother +to Nancy, who promptly applauded. +</P> + +<P> +"Brilliant! I remember her saying that, too. Let's go over and see +Mr. Dixon to-morrow," said Nancy. "I don't see why <I>I</I> couldn't give +lessons, you know, tutor children—like the two little Porterbridge +girls, for example. Margaret doesn't go to school because she's so +delicate, and I know that last winter Mrs. Porterbridge kept Dorothy at +home with her. I might even be able to get up a little class. I don't +look so awfully young, and lots of girls my age have done it. Miss +Drinkwater at school told me that she had begun to help her father with +his pupils when she was less than seventeen, and I'll be eighteen in +March. I'd love it, too." +</P> + +<P> +Soon they were all chatting and laughing like schoolgirls, the three of +them. +</P> + +<P> +"I used to think I wanted ever so many things," observed Alma, with a +pretty little air of earnest thought fulness. "But do you know what, +I've discovered that I never really wanted anything more than what I've +already got—you and Nancy, Mother." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE MR. PRESCOTT +</H4> + +<P> +A little after five o'clock on a dull January afternoon the two sisters +met on the road that ran from Melbrook to the cottage. It had been +just a week since they had actually started in "working." Alma had +just spoken in time to get the position that had been opened in the +young village lawyer's office, guided by a kindly Providence. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see how you are clever enough to teach, Nancy," said Alma, +looking at her sister's rather tired face with admiration. "I'd be +throwing books and things inside of five minutes. But isn't it +wonderful to think that we are really and truly making money? Did you +ever believe that we could do it? I just hope that Uncle Thomas hears +what we are doing—that'll just show him that we don't want anything +from <I>him</I>. I wonder what Mildred would say to us—wouldn't she be +shocked, though?" +</P> + +<P> +Inside the little house, Alma banged the door behind her, while Nancy +shouted gaily to her mother up-stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, well, what is all this noise for?" inquired a calm, +masculine voice from the sitting-room. The two girls stopped still, +thunderstruck; for the voice, unfamiliar in its genial accents, was +nevertheless unmistakably the voice of Mr. Prescott! Alma stared at +Nancy, Nancy stared back at Alma, neither of them knowing whether to +stay where they were or to go forward. +</P> + +<P> +"I shan't bite," remarked Mr. Prescott, mildly. Nancy boldly advanced, +being on more familiar terms with the "Ogre" than the frankly terrified +Alma, and to Alma's amazement he proceeded to kiss them both, and then, +as if embarrassed, cleared his throat, and said "How-do-you-do" in a +dry, formal tone. +</P> + +<P> +In a few moments Mrs. Prescott came downstairs. She looked older and +sadder than she had the last time he had seen her, and, because she had +denied herself any new clothes since she had lost the money, she now +wore an old gown which she had had for years. It was not a pose with +her, for she no longer pitied herself, or bemoaned her limited means, +but rather a sincere half-childlike desire to punish herself for +having, as she believed, deprived her daughters of what she considered +the best things in life. Nevertheless, her natural instinct for +daintiness had asserted itself in the little touches of lace at the +neck and wrists—and she looked pretty and dignified as she greeted Mr. +Prescott. +</P> + +<P> +It was not long before the first feeling of constraint wore off. As +Alma said afterwards, it was impossible to believe that they had been +laughing and chatting with the "Ogre" "just as if he were a nice old +man." He called Mrs. Prescott "Lallie," and paid her two compliments. +He gave them a very long discourse on the value of a scientific +education for everybody, and from that veered off into a heated tirade +against the uselessness of modern education, anyway. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I to understand that you two young ladies are—earning money?" +inquired Mr. Prescott. Amusement, chagrin, curiosity, and admiration +were mingled in his changing expressions. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed we are," replied Alma, quite beaming with self-satisfaction. +"<I>Ever</I> so much. Of course, Nancy makes more than I, now—Nance is +much cleverer than I, but Nancy's work is more the intellectual kind, +you know, and Nancy will probably be famous, and I'll be rich." +</P> + +<P> +"Bless my soul!" gasped the "Ogre," then suddenly he threw back his +head, and laughed and laughed, nor could Nancy and Mrs. Prescott keep +from joining in. The more Alma proclaimed her enthusiasm for business, +the more patent her utterly delightful inaptitude for it became. +</P> + +<P> +Then he grew grave, and turning to Mrs. Prescott said, in a gentle, +friendly voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Lallie, I wish you would tell me—everything that has happened. I +would be very dull, indeed, if I could not guess that you and my nieces +have had a new misfortune. I blame myself. I—I have made mistakes, +and—well, life is very short." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Prescott was silent for a moment, and sat up stiffly, as if +uncertain whether she should listen to the dictates of her pride or of +her hopes. Then presently, speaking in a quiet, monotonous voice, she +told him about her bad investment, and why she had made it. +</P> + +<P> +When Mrs. Prescott had finished speaking, everyone was silent for a +little while. Then Mr. Prescott said, abruptly: +</P> + +<P> +"You have been only vain, Lallie." Then, bluntly but not unkindly, +turning to Mrs. Prescott. "Very vain, very foolish. And now that +we've talked business, I'm going to ask if I may stay to supper?" +</P> + +<P> +Of course he stayed. And Hannah, as she saw the last of her delicacies +vanishing silently down the "Ogre's" lean, old throat, indulged in a +bright vision of his eventual surrender. +</P> + +<P> +But, having stuck to his principles for thirteen years, Mr. Prescott +was not a man to change them in a moment of impulse. After that +evening at his niece's he made no further reference to their affairs, +and seemed quite oblivious of their difficulties. Some very narrow +straits lay ahead of the Prescotts, and they had to deny themselves +things that once their little income had allowed them. +</P> + +<P> +Winter wore away into spring, and the girls went on doggedly with their +tasks. Miss Bancroft had gone away for a month or so. They had been +to see her several times during the winter, and she had dropped in to +see Mrs. Prescott fairly often. There had been something very +delightful in those few afternoons spent with her; for she was one of +those charming old ladies who remain perennially girlish, and her +interest and sympathy in their talk had won from them a very warm +affection. Mr. Arnold had not appeared on the scenes during the entire +winter and spring; having gone to England, Miss Bancroft had casually +explained, for an indefinite stay. This intelligence had depressed +Nancy unaccountably, but she explained her depression to herself on the +grounds that she was worried about reclaiming the ring, which she +valued so dearly. +</P> + +<P> +As the days grew longer, they had their tea out in the little garden, +which Nancy zealously tended. And these pleasant evenings made the +whole day seem quite cheerful—if it had not been for the incessant +worry about the future. +</P> + +<P> +One afternoon in the middle of the month, they were sitting out in the +little arbor, where the vines, covered with a veil of delicate, sticky +little leaves, already offered a light shade from the beams of the +western sun. As Nancy turned her head to say something joking to Alma, +she noticed for the first time how very quiet her sister had been while +they had been talking. Alma was lying full length on the little bench, +with her arm across her eyes. Evidently feeling that her mother and +sister were wondering what was the matter, she took away her arm, +revealing a feverishly flushed face and heavy eyelids. "I just have a +beastly old headache," she explained drowsily. "It isn't anything but +spring fever." +</P> + +<P> +"You poor little kid!" cried Nancy, going to her in concern and +throwing her arm around her. +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't anything," said Alma, feebly. "I had it yesterday, too, but +it wasn't so bad." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm going to see if you have any fever, anyway," Nancy said +quietly, not liking the look of Alma's hot cheeks and crimson lips. +</P> + +<P> +They got Alma to bed, and in a few moments after her head had sunk into +the cool pillow, she had dozed off into a heavy sleep. Nancy tried to +conceal her uneasiness, but Alma had a fever of a hundred and one, +which is not common to a simple headache. +</P> + +<P> +But the visit from Dr. Bevan, cheerful as he was, did anything but set +their fears at rest. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy could only stare from him to her mother in speechless +consternation, when it developed next day that Alma had the measles +beyond a doubt. In the morning Mr. Dixon and the Porterbridges were +notified that the Prescotts could not be at their work. The situation +was indeed a pretty serious crisis in their career; for their income +was reduced at once by something over a hundred dollars a month. This +worry, however, was completely dwarfed when, on the third day after +Alma had fallen ill, Dr. Bevan announced that he thought it best to +send a trained nurse. +</P> + +<P> +Nancy had had about all that she could bear, and without saying another +word, rushed off, to bury her face in the sofa cushions, and smother +her frantic sobs from her mother's ears. It seemed to her absolutely +certain that Alma was going to die, and her mind filled with little +forgotten memories, each of which stabbed her with an agonizing pang of +misery. +</P> + +<P> +The nurse, a very tall, strong, rosy woman named Miss Tracy, arrived +about noon-time and, quickly changing into her stiff white uniform, +ordered Mrs. Prescott off to lie down, telling Nancy that there was no +need for either of them to worry. Her presence, her brisk, thorough, +confident manner, lifted a hundred pounds from their hearts, and for +the first time in three days they drew a breath of relief. Mrs. +Prescott, who sadly needed sleep, lay down in her own room, and Nancy, +who had not been out of the house since Alma had fallen ill, took a +book and went out onto the porch to free her mind of worries that +seemed to have dulled her thoughts. Everything had become so +complicated, it was so utterly impossible to know what was to be done, +that she felt as if it were no use worrying, as if something unforeseen +would have to happen to solve difficulties that were absolutely beyond +their power to solve. And so she merely wondered idly how the nurse's +bills and the doctor's bills were to be paid. And finally, the warm +air and the whirr of the lawn-mower, and the sleepy hum in the vines, +made her drowsy; her eyelids fell, opened, and then closed again. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, I'm a very great man. I know the King of England +intimately," someone who did not look at all <I>like</I> Mr. Arnold, a fat, +pompous-looking man with mutton-chop whiskers, who, however, was Mr. +Arnold, kept repeating to her; and she kept wondering, "Why did I think +he was so nice? Why did I think he was good-looking?" +</P> + +<P> +Then all at once she heard someone coming up the wooden steps of the +porch. She sat bolt upright, putting hasty hands to her tumbled, curly +hair, and with dazed, sleepy eyes stared at the newcomer with a +positively unintelligent expression of amazement. At length she +articulated, in an almost reproachful tone: +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you were in Europe. You <I>were</I> in Europe." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. But one doesn't have to stay in Europe, you know, unless they +put you in jail over there, and I always try to avoid that," returned +Mr. Arnold pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"But you've been there for months," said Nancy, quite aware that she +wasn't talking perfectly good sense. And then they both burst out +laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"Alma is ill," Nancy told him. "She has measles, and we are in +quarantine, so you ought to go away." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her tired face, where the strain of fear and trouble +showed in her pale cheeks and heavy eyes, and then he smiled in his +warm, understanding way, and said gently: +</P> + +<P> +"You've been worried to death about something, haven't you, Nancy? +Well, I'm not going to ask you any questions now, only, whenever you +feel that you want to, remember that you can tell me anything. Would +you rather I went away now and came back later on, when you are less +troubled? Is there anything I can do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't go away—I mean, it's very nice to see you. Alma has a +nurse now, and I think she is going to be better soon—and it's so +<I>cheerful</I> to see you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Does Mr. Prescott know of Alma's illness?" he asked, after a moment's +hesitation. "I don't think my aunt does. She has just come back. I +landed the day before yesterday, and came down here last night. I—I +asked her about you all, and she said nothing about Alma's being ill." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I don't suppose Uncle Thomas does know," answered Nancy. "He +comes over to see us every now and then, but then again he'll shut +himself up for quite a long while, and I don't think he knows what we +are doing any more than we know what he's doing." +</P> + +<P> +"You know I'm buying a house here in Melbrook," said Mr. Arnold, rather +irrelevantly. "A very nice house—do you know that yellow one, with +the white columns and the porte-cochère over on Tindale Road?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do know the one you mean," cried Nancy. "It's a beauty. There's +the loveliest old-fashioned garden——" +</P> + +<P> +"That's it—that's the one. I—you're sure you like it?" +</P> + +<P> +For some reason or other Nancy turned pink at this simple question, and +tried to stammer a casual reply. Then he went on serenely: +</P> + +<P> +"I expect to have it in pretty good shape in a week or two, and when +your sister is better, I'd love to have you and your mother and Alma +come over and have tea with me. Aunt Eliza is directing the furnishing +and all that—she's quite in her element, but I'd love to have your +expert advice too. Heavens, <I>I</I> don't know anything about chintz, and +scrim, and all that sort of foolishness." +</P> + +<P> +He chatted along, telling her about his trip, recounting amusing little +incidents of the things that had happened on the boat, and completely +carrying her thoughts away from her own personal affairs. But after a +little while she began to notice that he was really not thinking about +what he was saying, that he seemed to have something on his mind, which +he was always on the point of saying, and then veered off to something +else. All at once he got up and remarked abruptly: +</P> + +<P> +"What the dickens do I care personally for chintzes and scrim? I don't +know which is which." Nancy stared at him, thinking that he had taken +leave of his senses. He rammed his long, brown hands fiercely into the +pockets of his gray trousers, took them out again, and thrust them into +the pockets of his coat; then, as if he had taken a deep breath, and +was holding it, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Will you marry me, Nancy?" +</P> + +<P> +She could not have uttered a word. She simply sat and stared at him. +Then, without being conscious of a single idea in her head, she jumped +up and made a dive for the door. He caught her hand and made her turn +around and face him. He had begun to smile, slightly, and it was that +gentle, wonderfully sweet smile, half-amused and half-tender, that made +her blush from the yoke of her gingham dress up to the edge of her hair. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—will you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I don't know," stammered Nancy; with that she promptly turned and +fled into the house. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Arnold stood regarding the screen-door with a blank expression; +then, after a moment or two, he walked away slowly. It was not until +he had reached the gate that he remembered he had left his hat on one +of the porch chairs. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +<SPAN STYLE="letter-spacing: 2em">*****</SPAN> +</P> + +<P> +Alma was sitting up. Wrapped in a pink blanket, with her yellow curls +pinned on top of her head, where they nodded like the heads of +daffodils, surrounded by her admiring family, including Hannah and the +trained nurse, and a perfect garden of spring flowers, which had been +arriving daily since the appearance of Mr. Arnold, she was convalescing +visibly. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know that Mr. Arnold was back," said Alma, burying her small +nose in a huge bouquet of white lilacs. "Isn't it perfectly dear of +him to send these things, when I only met him once in my life?" Upon +which guileless remark Nancy turned a lively and hopelessly noticeable +scarlet. To make her embarrassment quite complete, Alma looked +directly into her eyes and grinned deliberately. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder why he takes such a tremendous interest in us?" she went on, +mercilessly. "I feel it in my bones. I feel as if something perfectly +scrumptious were going to happen." Mrs. Prescott laughed and kissed +her. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Nancy, come on, and 'fess up," was the bomb which Alma hurled +without a word of warning. "I know perfectly well that you've got +something on your conscience, and I've got a suspicion already that +it's Mr. Arnold." +</P> + +<P> +If she was desirous of creating a sensation, she should have been amply +satisfied with the result of her remarks. Mrs. Prescott, as if she had +been suddenly aroused from sleep, opened her pretty mouth and stared at +her elder daughter for a moment and then exclaimed: +</P> + +<P> +"I must have been dreaming!" Nancy squirmed. She looked reproachfully +at Alma, then at her mother, and at length said simply: +</P> + +<P> +"He—he asked me to marry him." And then she followed with the whole +story. She told them of her visit to her uncle, where she had seen Mr. +Arnold for the second time, and then went on to give a full account of +her memorable trip to the pawnbrokers' with the ring. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I would have told you everything long ago, but I didn't want you to +think that Uncle Thomas was 'relenting' because he asked me to visit +him—and about the other time——" Alma stopped her by leaning over +and kissing her. +</P> + +<P> +"You were paying for <I>my</I> experience," Alma said bravely. "I +learned—I don't know what exactly, except that people like Mildred, +whom I always thought as being important to know, weren't worth one +teeny little ounce of trouble. I learned to be honest with myself, and +that it's a whole lot better to work with your two hands than to be a +toady, for the sake of making things easier,—and lots else. And I'm +going to work hard, Nancy——" +</P> + +<P> +"Stuff and nonsense!" declared an angry voice from the doorway. From a +gargantuan bouquet of hyacinths, lilacs, and daffodils, issued the +voice of the "Ogre." Evidently, finding the front door open, and the +lower floor deserted, and hearing the sound of voices from above, the +old gentleman had borne his offering aloft, without a word of +announcement. Snorting with some inward indignation, he testily tossed +his head to get rid of an impudent lilac which was tickling his nose, +and glared over the bouquet. +</P> + +<P> +"This idea of working is pure foolishness. I never heard of such +women's nonsense before in my life. Here, where in the name of common +sense can I put these flowers, and why wasn't I informed of my niece's +illness?" When Nancy, stifling her unseemly laughter, had relieved him +of his offering, he grew calmer. +</P> + +<P> +"Why wasn't I told that you were ill, my dear?" he asked, sitting down +and taking Alma's hand in his. +</P> + +<P> +"We—we hardly thought of anything until she began to be better," +answered Mrs. Prescott. He looked at her sternly a moment, and then +his whole face softened, almost to a look of humility and +shame-facedness. +</P> + +<P> +"Once you told me that you were a foolish woman, Lallie," he said, "and +I must confess that for a very long time I was blind enough, and +selfish enough, to think it of you. Now it's only fair that I should +be as brave as you and admit that I have been a very foolish man. I +have been about the biggest fool that ever escaped the badge of long +ears. All I did was to deprive myself of a lot of happiness, and to +deprive some other very dear people of happiness that it was my +privilege to bestow. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, the truth is, that while my 'principles' were excellent,—they +wouldn't work. They didn't do <I>me</I> any good. Hang it all! Here I was +trying to make good, thrifty wives out of you two girls, for some young +rascal—and depriving myself of the sweetest pleasure in life for that +same impudent young husband who shan't have you, anyway! +</P> + +<P> +"They were excellent principles, too, their only fault being that +they—wouldn't work. +</P> + +<P> +"And now, ladies, I herewith adopt you. I shall establish my legal +right to you all. I—I feel—well, I hope I have made it quite clear, +that anything, everything—on this green earth, that I can give you, is +yours. And if you want to make me very happy, you'll demand it +instantly." +</P> + +<P> +For a little time no one said anything, then, heaving a great sigh, +Alma burst out: +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle Thomas, I'll expire if I don't hug you!" +</P> + +<P> +And when she <I>had</I> hugged him, until there was more likelihood of <I>his</I> +demise than her own, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid I'm breaking up a brilliant business career for you, ma'am. +The little that I can offer you is a mere nothing compared to the +dazzling prospects which were opening before you——" +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't be jocose, Uncle," interrupted Alma, severely. "Many a +millionaire started on only five cents, and <I>I</I> started on fifteen +dollars!" +</P> + +<P> +"I hear that young Arnold is buying a house here," remarked Mr. +Prescott. "Now, what in the world is he doing that for?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, indeed?" murmured Alma, wickedly. "The truth is, Uncle Thomas +that he is madly in love with me. He sent me all these flowers, and, +measles or no measles, he has been serenading me every night; hasn't +he, Miss Tracy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Alma! You ridiculous creature," cried Mrs. Prescott, joining in the +laugh at this nonsense. Uncle Thomas looked amused but puzzled, hardly +certain whether to believe there was an element of truth in this +rigmarole or not. He glanced from Mrs. Prescott to Alma, to Nancy, and +there he paused. He was a good enough reader of faces to know now +where the wind lay, and his eyes grew sober. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, my dear little niece, you're pretty young," he said gently, "but +one is never too young to be happy. What do you think, Lallie?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Prescott smiled, although there were tears in her eyes, and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Ask Nancy, Uncle Thomas." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Nancy?" +</P> + +<P> +Nancy tried to laugh, as she took her mother's hand and Alma's, and +faltered again: +</P> + +<P> +"I—I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +But here we, who can see into the minds of all these people, have no +hesitation about saying in just so many words, that she did know very +well; only she didn't know that she knew. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +<SPAN STYLE="letter-spacing: 2em">*****</SPAN> +</P> + +<P> +The "Ogre" had sent a note to his nieces, asking them for dinner on a +certain June evening. And strange to relate it was Nancy who delayed +the proceedings. When she finally joined her admiring family she was +deliciously conscious that a dress of pale gold-colored organdie, and a +broad-brimmed hat trimmed with delicate blue flowers, were about the +most becoming things she could possibly wear. And she was not entirely +ignorant of the fact that she could be very, very pretty when she +wanted to. It was pleasant to register this interesting fact on other +people also, Miss Bancroft and the Ogre, and—well, George Arnold, for +instance. +</P> + +<P> +It was partly on account of the gathering darkness, no doubt, or partly +because Alma wanted to look at the summer-house while Nancy and George +wanted to continue to look at the roses, but however it was—well, +there they were—Mr. Arnold and Miss Prescott, absorbedly looking at +the roses. Or perhaps they weren't even looking at the roses. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, look here, Nancy, if you'll be a good girl, and say what I tell +you to, I'll give you something nice. It's not a candy, either." +</P> + +<P> +"Wh-what do you want me to say?" gasped Nancy, suddenly feeling quite +terrified. +</P> + +<P> +"First of all, put your hand in mine, so," he took her hand gently, and +then lifted it to his lips. "And now say—'I love you, George!'" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—I c-can't!" whispered Nancy, feebly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you can. Try it, dear." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, don't you, Nancy?" For the first time he sounded very grave, +and his eyes looked anxious. Then somehow Nancy felt quite calm and +happy and brave, she answered him, honestly: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I do. I love you, George." +</P> + +<P> +She felt him take her left hand and single out the third finger. Then +she felt something cool slipped on it. She gasped. The first diamond +she had ever owned caught and flashed back a moonbeam. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—I didn't know it was that!" she stammered. "I would have said +what—what you wanted me to, anyway, George. I mean, <I>I</I> wanted to, +awfully." +</P> + +<P> +He promptly kissed her. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Nancy of Paradise Cottage, by Shirley Watkins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NANCY OF PARADISE COTTAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 33554-h.htm or 33554-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/5/5/33554/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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