CHAPTER XIITHE UNEXPECTEDTim met them at the head of the gangplank; and after having their chairs placed, he and Nancy strolled about the deck to inspect the crowd.Finally a little tug, carrying the end of a heavy cable attached to the steamer, swung out into the harbor. After describing a wide semicircle, it took up its position waiting for a signal. Soon it was given; and by skilful manipulation the little boat pulled the big one slowly away from the wharf and headed it out to sea. Its work done, the tug steamed fussily back to the dock.“So,” said Martha suddenly, as they all lay in their steamer chairs, wrapped in rugs, and watching the rapidly receding shores of Nova Scotia against the sunset, “we got away without my having my third fall, or Nan losing her third pocketbook.”“But,” said Jeanette, “you nearly fell, when you turned on your ankle, Mart; and Nan nearly lost her little red purse.”“A miss is as good as a mile,” declared Martha.“Peut-on dire d’une chose qu’elle est perdue quand on sait où est die?”1quoted Jim softly.“What’s that?” asked Martha.“Didn’t you ever have that French exercise which tells about the sailor who lost the silver teapot?”“Yes, of course; but what’s that got to do with it?”“If you don’t know, I’ll never tell you,” laughed Nan.Jeanette said nothing; for she was quite certain that the little red purse was not in Nan’s possession.“My goodness, it’s getting rough,” complained Martha presently. “I’m going down to bed.”“So am I,” said Jeanette.They made their way to their respective staterooms as rapidly as possible.“Will it be like this all the way, do you suppose?” asked Nancy anxiously.“I doubt it. This is the wash from the Bay of Fundy that we're getting now. It will be calmer after a while,” replied Jim, slipping a big warm hand over her cold one under the edge of the steamer rug. “Go to your stateroom if you want to; but I think if you lie here, perfectly quiet, you will be quite all right.”Presently the moon came up, and the ocean was a scene of fairyland. It was a couple of hours later when Nancy crept in beside Jeanette, who was sleeping soundly under heavy blankets in the big stateroom, filled with fresh salt air which was sweeping in through the open port hole.Toward morning, the foghorn began to blow; and Nancy looked at her watch. Five o’clock. They were due to dock between seven and eight. Too early to get up; but, try as she would, she could not go to sleep again. So she lay, thinking over the things she and Jim had talked about the preceding evening on deck. At half-past five she rose, dressed, and began to pack.“If I have all this done early, there will be more time to spend on deck. I'll do Janie’s too,” she decided, after finishing her own. “Dear, dear Janie!”She had just closed her own suitcase, and had Jeanette’s all ready to slide in the last things, when a terrific jar threw her forward onto the floor.“Oh, what is it?” cried Jeanette, who was instantly aroused by the unusual motion. “Nan dear, are you hurt?”Nancy assured her that she was not.The sound of opening doors, running feet, shouts, curt directions were heard; then—the ringing of the big alarm!Thatmeant for everybody to get out on deck.“Get dressed as quickly as you can, girls,” called Miss Ashton from the opposite state room. “We’ve been struck; but, don’t get frightened.”In less time than she ever dressed before, Jeanette got ready to go up on deck.Jim met them in the passageway.“Your life preservers,” he said, “are under the berths. Get them,” taking their bags from them. “I’ll show you how to put them on.”He quickly buckled them in place; his own was already on. Then he helped Miss Ashton and Martha with theirs, and they all joined the throng of passengers who were trying to get to the promenade deck.Ship officers were everywhere, keeping order among the startled passengers. It was a calm crowd, fortunately, rather inclined to treat the accident as an adventure.“I woke up,” said one man whose stateroom was on the lowest deck, “to find the nose of some other steamer in my room. ‘Well, old girl,’ I said, ‘either you or I’ll have to get out of here. I must have some privacy! And I guess it had better be me.’ So here I am.”“Well, I looked all over for my toothbrush,” said one woman, “while Joe hollered at me all the time to hurry. ‘You go on if you want to,’ I said to him at last; ‘but I won’t stir until I find that toothbrush.’ And Ididn’t.”She was carrying it carefully in her hand, evidently having left all her other belongings behind.Another woman was taking great care of an umbrella and a box of candy. Martha clung fast to her untouched basket of fruit.A strange sight met their eyes when they reached the promenade deck. Beside them, in the dense fog, was the steamer which had rammed them, her bow still in the hole she had made; apparently just “standing by” until help came.The passengers surged in all directions. Some were crying, some laughing hysterically; others pale and silent; but most were as calm as if this were an everyday occurrence, or at least an interesting one. A few blustered angrily over the delay and the inconvenience. The kicker, like the poor, we have always with us.“There is really no danger,” cried John Pierce, working his way in and out among the people. “An SOS has been sent out, and assistance will soon be here.”He had no time to linger with Martha now, but paused beside her long enough to say, “Don’t get excited. There is no need for worry.”Jeanette and Martha, pale with anxiety, sat on the arms of Miss Ashton’s chair; for Jim had succeeded in finding a place for her to sit down. He and Nancy were half leaning, half sitting, on a pile of camp stools near by.“Frightened, Nan?” he asked, looking down at her.“Not—exactly,” she replied, bravely smiling up at him, but she shook with nervousness. “If there were only something one coulddo, instead of just having to wait passively.”“I imagine it won’t be very long,” he said, slipping his arm around her to steady her a little. “We are so close to Boston that a boat, should reach us very quickly.”“Isn’t it queer,” she observed presently, “how persistent a part the fog has played in this trip? The morning we landed at Yarmouth, that first night in Halifax, several times on our motor trip——”“And on Turtle Head,” interrupted Jim in a low tone.“And now it is pushing us into Boston,” she finished, smiling at him.“Pushing us in!” echoed Martha, who had caught her last sentence. “How do you get that way? Keeping usout, you mean!”“Miss Scott has recovered her speech at last,” observed Jim. “Is she often silent for so long a time?”“Very seldom; but Jim, why don’t you call her Martha? Miss Scott sounds so very formal.”“It isn’t very easy for me to get on familiar terms with people,” he replied slowly. “I never have made friends quickly—at least,” he corrected himself as he caught sight of her dancing eyes and funny little smile, “never until the present instance.”“The exception which proves the rule?” she inquired.“Exactly.”“But Jim,” she added, more seriously; “the girls like you, and—and my friends must be yours too.”“I know; I want them to he; and mine yours. You’ll like my special pal Griff Burton. He’s the most unconventional chap you ever saw; a perfect riot. But a prince of a fellow. I hope there will be a chance for you to meet him before you go home.”“Shouldn’t you think they were sitting calmly in a living room somewhere on dry land, all by themselves, instead of here in a crowd of people on a foggy ocean, not knowing whether we’re going to the bottom or not?” whispered Martha, glancing at the two, absorbed in each other.“Goodness, Mart, what a cheerful idea”; exclaimed Jeanette, ignoring the first part of her remark.Miss Ashton made no comment; but she gazed rather thoughtfully out to sea.“How long do you expect to stay in Boston?” continued Jim.“I really don’t know. Our plans for the time subsequent to getting into Boston are not at all definite. If Madelon had been with us, you know I told you about Miss Ashton’s protégée, the little French girl?—we expected to run about the city a bit; and there were a couple of boys who spoke of meeting us here.”“Who are they?” asked Jim quickly.“One is a Junior at Roxford—his name is Phil Spenser; the other is his cousin, Tom Mixer. He’s a grad. They are having such a funny experience this summer,” and she went on to tell him of their adventures. “If we had come back to Boston when we expected to, I think it unlikely that they would have been here. But I sent Phil a card after our plans changed, and it may be that by this time they have made enough money to come on.”“I should like you to meet my father and mother before you go back,” said Jim, after she had finished her story of the boys. “My brother is in Bermuda at present——”“Oh, is he? That’s where Janie and I want to go next summer. We’re planning to ask our folks to give us the trip as a graduation present.”“And after that, what?”“I honestly don’t know, Jim. I wish I did. During this last year at college I’ll have to think hard, and come to some decision. Imightteach, for I love youngsters——”“But only for, say a year or two?” interrupted Jim, in a very low tone.“Why, I don’t know. I probably should keep at it if I liked it.”“I mean just until I get well settled, and can take care of you?”There was dead silence, broken only by the harsh sound of the foghorn, and the subdued voices of the crowd around them. Nancy’s heart raced madly; and although she felt Jim’s anxious eyes upon her, and knew he was waiting, she could not force herself to reply at once.“You’re not angry; are you, Nan?” he asked at last.She shook her head.“And—and—you’ll do it?”“Do what?”Even in a serious moment like this, her fondness for mischief got the upper hand.“You know perfectly well what I mean, Nancy,” he replied very gravely.He had not meant to speak so soon; not for a long time. But in the excitement of the collision, and their possible danger—for truly help did seem mighty long in coming, and he knew that by this time water must be filling the hold of the steamer—he had thrown aside all reserve. He must let her know how very much he cared.At that moment, a huge bulk loomed out of the fog, and there were shouts of joy from the passengers. Help had come.Two at a time, “Like the animals going into the ark,” remarked the irrepressible Martha, the people were all transferred to theCity of Bostonwhich had come to rescue them; and the disabled steamer, being lightened, prepared to limp into port with her cargo, under her own power.In the excitement Nancy managed to whisper to Jim:“I can’t answer you now, with all this going on; maybe we’ll be able to have a few minutes together before I go home?”“I’ll see that we do,” was his firm reply.Rumors of the accident had reached Boston, and the wharf was thronged with people. Some were friends or relatives of the passengers on the unfortunate steamers; others merely seekers of excitement. Jim managed to get his party through the crowd, and into a taxi.“Sorry to hurry you away from Pierce, Miss—Martha,” he said, after they were seated in the cab and on their way to Miss Ashton’s apartment.Nancy flashed him an approving glance.“Oh, that's all right,” replied Martha frankly. “He knows where he can find me.”[1]Can one say of a thing that it is lost if one knows where it is?CHAPTER XIIIA LETTERDear Mary,“I don’t know how you will feel about it, but in spite of my careful chaperoning” [Miss Ashton smiled shrewdly to herself as she wrote that] “I’m afraid that I have let your little girl fall in love.“I fancy I can see you stiffen up at that, and hear you say, ‘What nonsense! She is only a child.’ Perhaps she is in your eyes, still a little girl—I suppose that, to their own mothers, children never really grow up; but to others she is a very lovely and lovable young girl. She was always most attractive, but how wonderfully she has developed and improved during these last two years! I have not seen her, you know, since that summer she was so crushed by her uncle’s departure for Germany; and I imagine I see the change more clearly than you do.“To get back to the subject in hand, I do not want to forestall Nancy’s confidences to you; for I am sure she will tell you about her new more-than-friend very soon, if she has not already; but I do want to give you my impressions of the case, as well as to let you have some information which will perhaps move you to smile, instead of frown, upon these two young things.“James Jackson, the driver of the bus and conductor of our motor trip through Nova Scotia, is, except during the summer, a student at Harvard; and, from what I have found but, a very good student. This will be his senior year. His father and mother are well-known and highly esteemed descendants of the founders of the city. He has one brother, Edmund, who is at present running a lily farm in Bermuda. They are not wealthy people, but are very comfortable and live in one of the lovely old-fashioned houses in Cambridge. So much for his antecedents and position.“Now, for the lad himself. Really, Mary he is a dear! A big, strong, manly fellow, but gentle and bashful as a girl—I correct myself, as girls used to be. He talks very little, and hides his ideas and emotions behind his serious face and quiet manners. There is plenty of character, force, and determination, however, in the background, ready to be exercised whenever needed. He has dark hair and eyes, though not quite so dark as Nancy’s; but he is much taller, and of course heavier, than she.“Her manner toward him, as well as his toward her, have given no opportunity for criticism even by the most severe judge. It is such an ideal little romance that I just love to watch it. They are over in the Public Gardens now, looking at the flower beds. Whether they will really see them or not, I am not prepared to state.“Seriously, Mary, they seem to be perfectly suited to each other—made for each other, as we used to say. What is the modern term? Soul mates, or some such foolish expression. It does not matter what we call it, however, as long as real love, respect, and honor form the foundation.“The girls will be here for a few days longer. Run down, if you like, and look Jim over; or invite him to go home with Nancy for the week-end.“Sincerely,“Lois Ashton.”CHAPTER XIVPLANSIn the meantime, Nancy and Jim were sitting on a bench which was placed on a tongue of land jutting out into the lake in the Public Gardens. A white swan, which Nancy had been feeding with gingersnaps, uttered its peculiar harsh cry to call her attention to its desire for more food.“Well, Nan,” Jim was saying, “have you been thinking about what I asked you on the steamer this morning?”“Yes, I have very seriously, in the intervals of fitting ourselves and belongings into Miss Ashton’s tiny apartment.”“And you decided——”“It’s this way, Jim,” said Nancy slowly, as if choosing her words very carefully. “I’m going to be perfectly frank. I—I care a lot for you, and just now I’m sure I’d never want to marry anyone else. But it seems to me that we would be foolish to tie ourselves up with an engagement just now, when we both have a whole year more at college. The senior year is a very important one, and we’ve got to be deciding what we want to do after we finish, and make preparations for work of some kind.”“We could do all that just the same even if we were engaged,” protested Jim.“Yes, but suppose this last year you should meet some other girl you care a lot for——”“I won’t,” said Jim decidedly.“You can’t be absolutelysure, Jim; and while I think there is no danger of my meeting anyone who could take your place, such a thingis, after all, a possibility, if not a probability. Just think! A month ago we had never even seen each other! We have known each other such a short time, and under such unusual conditions, don’t you really, way down in your heart, think that it would be wiser, safer, for both of us to go back to our old normal familiar lives for this one year, unfettered?”“I see what you mean, even if I can’t enthuse over it very much.”“Don’t misunderstand me—dear,” faltered Nancy, for Jim’s tone was rather hurt. “It’s frightfully hard for me to take this stand; but I feel that it is the right one, and—” her voice broke pathetically.“Please—Nan,” begged Jim, “don’t. Fix things up to suit yourself, and I’ll do whatever you wish.”“We can write regularly, that is, if you want to.”Jim gave her such a disgusted look that Nancy smiled in spite of her earnestness.“And probably,” she added, “we’ll be able to see each other once or twice during the year. Then, if next June we both feel the same way as we do now, you may ask me again. Though, as a matter of fact, you haven’t yet asked meonce.”“Why Nancy, I did; I’m sure I did,” protested Jim so earnestly that she laughed.“Why, Jim, you didn’t; I’m sure you didn’t,” she retorted. “You asked me to wait until you were making enough to take care of me.”“Well, anyhow, you knew what I meant. But to make sure, if you must have it in so many words, Nancy, will you marry me?”“Ask me that question on Commencement Day, and I’ll answer it.”“Promise me one thing, Nan,” begged Jim very seriously; “that you won’t become engaged to anyone else until I have had my chance, again in June.”“Of course, I’ll promise that; and—and Jim.”“Yes?”“If you find some other girl, and feel that you don’t want to ask me again, just mail to me the little spray of wild roses that Janie gave us on the Harbor ride that day—what ages ago it seems!—and I’ll understand.”Jim laughed gayly.“Fat chance of that!” he declared.“But you’ll promise?” persisted Nancy.“Oh, yes; to please you I’ll promise,” he agreed indulgently.“My goodness!” exclaimed Nancy, looking at her watch after a long silence, during which the swan, disgusted at the lack of attention from the two human beings, sailed off down the lake, “do you know that it’s after five o’clock? Martha went off somewhere with Mr. Pierce; Jeanette was going through some of the shops; and Miss Ashton suggested that we all be back about five thirty. We had rather a ‘picked up’ lunch, as she called it; and to-night we’re going out to dine.”“I know it.”“You do? How?”“Because I invited you all to go to dinner with me.”“You did! When?”“I asked Miss Ashton this morning, and she accepted for the crowd.”“How very nice! And she never said a word about it.”“She’s an awfully good scout,” said Jim fervently, if a bit irrelevantly.“To-morrow,” he went on, “I hope to have you meet Mother and Dad. I told them all about you when I ran out home for lunch, and they want you, and the others too, of course, to come out for afternoon tea to-morrow.”“I shall love seeing them, and your home, Jim.”“They’ll love you, too. I’m going to have Griff there. I guess I’ll ask him for to-night too; and Pierce, if I can get hold of him.”“Jim, you’re extravagant, taking such a big party out to dinner; though of course it would be loads of fun.”“I have my whole summer’s pay, and we must celebrate some way.”“Celebrate what?” asked Nancy quickly; but Jim only looked at her and laughed.At six o’clock he was back at the apartment, bringing Griff with him. After introductions were over, they sat in the little living room waiting for John Pierce. Griff, a tall, blond youth, proved to be as lively and unconventional as Jim was serious and reserved. He roamed restlessly about, taking up ornaments and books and setting them down again, stumbling over footstools (whether accidentally of intentionally, it was difficult to tell), and getting into people’s way generally.“Excuse it, please,” he said, as he bumped into Martha who was just turning away from the window for the third time.“What’s the matter with you?” she asked bluntly, as she watched him continue his ramble about the room.“Me? Oh, I’m nervous.”“Over what?”“Meeting so many charming girls all at one time. It’s quite a strain on a fellow’s nerves. Didn’t you know that?”“Don’t pay any attention to him,” said Jim smiling. “He’s quite harmless.”“Indeed. And when you get really to know me,” added Griff, “you’ll like me a lot. Folks always do.”Jeanette did not know quite what to make of him, and sat watching him, half fascinated, half disapproving. He noticed her gaze, interpreted it correctly, and, being a born tease, decided to bother her.“Little blond girl,” he said, going over to her and taking her hand, “I feel that you are the only one here who really understands me. Come over on the window seat and talk to me, and I’ll sit as still as a mouse. Oh, have a heart,” he added, as she hesitated.“Yes, Janie,” urged Martha; “do take pity on the rest of us, and keep that Perpetual Motion quiet for a few minutes. It would be an act of charity.”Thus impelled, figuratively and literally, Jeanette, blushing to the roots of her hair, rose to comply with the request. Bowing low, Griff took her hand and led her ceremoniously across the room to the window seat, where he began to talk nonsense to her in a low tone.“You other people will have to amuse yourselves,” he paused long enough to say. “We are too busy to bother about you.”“Thank Heaven!” ejaculated Martha fervently.After talking nonsense for a few minutes, Griff led the conversation to the subject of books and plays; and Jeanette found him a really delightful companion.“I like to see the first impression Griff makes on strangers,” observed Jim to Nancy. “Martha is evidently going to fight with him all the time.”“Yes, and poor Janie is fussed to death. She doesn’t know what to make of him. But,” she added in a lower tone, “they seem to be enjoying each other’s company now.”“She’ll like him after a while. Girls always do.”“Sorry to be so late,” said John Pierce, coming in at that moment; “but it couldn’t be helped.”Jim introduced him to Griff, and the party went down in the elevator. A taxi soon whirled them through the streets to the Copley-Plaza Hotel.“Oh, I’ve always heard so much about this, and wished to see it,” whispered Nancy to Jim as they entered.A table for seven had been reserved for them at one side of the circular dining room, and they were soon making up for their “skimpy luncheon.” They had so many things to talk about, that they spent a long time over dinner.“Now, what should you like to do?” asked Jim, when they finally rose from the table. “A movie?”“I don’t know, Jim,” said Miss Ashton with some hesitation. “I should not like to be considered a spoil-sport, but it is half-past nine now, and we have had a most strenuous day. I think the girls had better forego the joys of the screen for the benefit of a little rest.”She had been looking at her party while they were at dinner, and saw how tired and excited they all were; and she didn’t want to send the girls home looking like that. So after a stroll through the hotel, they returned to the apartment.“I’m not going to ask you boys to come up,” said Miss Ashton, as they got out of the taxi. “But, let me see. To-morrow we’re going out to your house, Jim, for afternoon tea. In the morning we hope to go to church. Monday, these girls are going home. Suppose to-morrow night you all come here for a farewell supper. We’ll be crowded, but I know you won’t mind.”The exclamations of delight with which her invitation was received fully repaid her for any work which it would entail.Packing themselves away for the night in Miss Ashton’s tiny apartment was a problem, and they had so much fun over it that all inclination for sleep was destroyed.The living room had what Martha persisted in calling a “wall bed.”“Mart, it’s aMurphybed!” protested Jeanette, whenever it was mentioned.“That may be its official name,” retorted Martha; “but it comes out of the wall, just the same.”“Suppose you and Jeanette sleep here, Nancy,” suggested Miss Ashton, pulling it out. “Martha can take the davenport. We’ll push it over to the other side of the room.”“And what about you?” inquired Nancy. “I have a cot which I can set up in the dressing room.”“But you won’t be comfortable,” objected the girls. “Let one of us take the cot.”“Indeed I won’t. I’m used to sleeping anywhere. Wait until I get it fixed and you’ll see how cozy it really is.”It was. The cot fitted in between the wall and the dressing table in the tiny room which connected the living room with the bathroom; and plenty of air came in from the living room windows directly opposite, if the door between were left open.“This is heaps of fun,” declared Martha, when they were at last in bed, and the lights had been extinguished. “Who’d ever think that this time last night we were on the ocean, and to be shipwrecked before morning, and not knowing anything about it.”“If they could have known about it ahead of time, Mart,” laughed Nancy, “I suppose it might have been avoided.”“I saidwe, notthey!” retorted Martha, as she turned over with a flop. She was soon fast asleep, as was also Miss Ashton.“Janie, are you sleepy?” whispered Nancy after a while.“Not very. Are you?”“No. Janie——”“Yes, Nan?”“I suppose you noticed that Jim has been—has been—sort of nice to me.”“Yes.”“Well—he—he asked me to marry him.”“Oh, Nancy darling, I’m so glad!”Jeanette caught her friend in her arms, and squeezed her until she could hardly breathe. “I think he’s just fine, and I hope you’ll be just awfully, awfully happy.”“Not so fast! Not so fast!” protested Nancy. “I haven’t said ‘yes’ yet.”“You haven’t? Why Nan, don’t you care too? I thought you did.”“I do; but I must be positive. It is too eternal, too serious a thing to decide in a hurry. I’m not even engaged yet.”She went on to tell Jeanette the substance of Jim’s and her conversation on the subject; adding, as she finished, “Of course you know without my telling you that this is just between you and me. I suppose Miss Ashton suspects; and Jim has told his father and mother. I’ll tell Mother and Dad, and Uncle John, but I don’t want anyone else even to suspect it.”“But Martha?” said Jeanette.“Oh, she’s so wrapped up in Mr. Pierce that she probably hasn’t even noticed us,” giggled Nancy softly.“Don’t deceive yourself,” said Jeanette, smiling to herself in the darkness over Nan’s naivete, “Martha is more observing than you give her credit for being. She hides a lot under that rather abrupt way of hers.”“I wonder if I had better tell her, then, and caution her not to mention it.”“Of course, Nan, it isn’t necessary to tell her; but perhaps it would be as well if you did. She will appreciate your confiding in her, and will, of course, say nothing about it. And I think, Nan, that you have been very wise in your decision, hard as it must now seem to you and Jim.”“I felt that it was the only thing to do, Janie. I really want to finish college, and be prepared to earn my living in some way if it is ever necessary. So many girls think that if they can only get hold of a man, they need never lift a finger again.”“I know; and one can never be sure what will happen at some time in the future. It is foolish not to find out what one thing we can do well, and then fit ourselves to do it. Then, in an emergency, there is something to depend upon.”The girls talked for some time. They had missed their intimate companionship in the excitement and confusion of the past few days, and it gave both of them much pleasure to get together and talk things over in the old intimate way.“Well, now that we’ve talked it all over, and aired our ideas,” said Nan, “perhaps we’d better try to go to sleep. To-morrow is going to be a full day too, and we don’t want to be tired out.”“I’m glad to be going home to see the folks,” she went on, “for it seems ages since we left. I am a bit disappointed, though, at seeing nothing of Boston; aren’t you? I did hope todothe town while we were here.”“Yes; I’m disappointed too, Nan. It is such an interesting city—so different from other large cities.”“There is only one Boston, and I’ve wanted, ever since I studied history, to explore not only the city itself but also its surroundings.”“And Cape Cod, that Joseph Lincoln writes about,” added Jeanette.“Well, perhaps some time we shall be able to come back again,” said Nancy, yawning.“I am quite sure,” said Jeanette, squeezing her friend’s hand, “that at leastyouwill.”CHAPTER XVPARTIESAs a result of the late hours which they had kept, in spite of Miss Ashton’s resolutions, and also of the excitement and over-fatigue, it was eleven o’clock the next morning before any of the girls stirred.A stray sunbeam, coming through a tiny hole in the shade, shone directly in Nancy’s eyes, and awakened her. For a moment she did not know where she was; then the events of the preceding day rushed through her mind. She lay still for a while, listening to hear if anyone else was awake. Not hearing a sound, she drew her watch from under her pillow. Her involuntary exclamation roused Jeanette.“What’s the matter, Nan?” she inquired, sleepily.“Guess what time it is!”“Oh, about seven o’clock, I suppose. But please tell me it’s only five.”“Add four to your seven.”“Nan, you don’t mean it!”Nancy held the watch before Jeanette’s eyes. “Imagine! And I don’t think I stirred all night.”“I’m sure I didn’t. I never slept so late in all my life.”“Oh, did we disturb you?” Nancy asked, as Miss Ashton appeared in the doorway.“Disturb me!” she repeated. “It’s time somebody did. Do you two know the hour?”“Just discovered it. I’m afraid we won’t get to church to-day,” said Nancy, regretfully. Martha slept peacefully on.“It seems a shame to disturb her,” said Miss Ashton; “but we’ll be eating lunch before we have breakfast, if we put it off much longer.”“Mart,” said Nancy, shaking her.“What?”“Time to get up.”“Can’t be.” And Martha turned over and settled herself for another nap.“But it’s a quarter after eleven!”“You’re crazy!”She was now fully aroused.“I’ll start breakfast,” said Miss Ashton, going into the kitchen. “Come out as soon as you’re ready.”“Why don’t we have breakfast and lunch in one?” called Nancy. “Then, since we’re going to have afternoon tea, we won’t need any noon meal.”.“Not a bad idea,” replied Miss Ashton. “We’ll do that.”Soon they were gathered about the built-in table in the breakfast nook. The sun was streaming in through the double window, and Jip, the canary, flew merrily about his cage above their heads.“Can’t we do something to help you get ready for to-night?” asked Jeanette, as they were washing the dishes.“Indeed you can,” replied Miss Ashton promptly. “Lots of things.”“Good! Give us directions, and we’ll follow them to the letter,” said Nancy gayly.“We’ll try to, you mean,” amended Martha. “Remember; we’re amateurs.”“What are we going to have?” inquired Nancy.“The menu is on top of that cabinet,” said Miss Ashton.“Fruit cup,” read Nancy. “Um! I love it. Cream of pea soup, with croutons; celery, radishes and olives; breaded veal cutlet, with scalloped potatoes, and asparagus; tomato and lettuce salad with cheese wafers; vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce; cakes, and coffee. How lovely!”“Oh, it makes me hungry just to listen to it,” cried Martha.“Mart! And you’ve just finished your breakfast,” laughed Jeanette.“And not apetit déjeunereither,” said Nancy.“I didn’t eat any more than you did,” retorted Martha. “You had three muffins, an egg, and a heap of bacon, besides peaches and cream.”“Don’t let’s stop to quarrel over what we ate,” said Jeanette. “We must get right to work. You allot our tasks, Miss Ashton, and we’ll do our best to perform them.”It was two o’clock before everything that could be prepared ahead of time was finished.“What are you going to wear this afternoon?” asked Martha, as they left the kitchenette.“My flowered chiffon, I think,” replied Nancy; “and I’m going to keep it on for the evening, too. In fact, it is the only thing I have that is at all suitable.”“What about you, Janie?”“Would the powder blue georgette be too dressy, do you think?”“Not a bit, and you look so lovely in it,” replied Nancy. “And why don’t you wear your green and white figured georgette, Mart?”“I guess I will.”All three girls had white coats and white felt hats, and Miss Ashton thought they looked very nice as they sat waiting for the taxi.“This is called the Longfellow bridge,” said Miss Ashton, as they were crossing that lengthy span over the Charles River into Cambridge.“Oh, is this where he was when he wrote—‘I stood on the bridge at midnight’?” cried Martha.“This is the bridge he was referring to when he wrote that line,” laughed Miss Ashton. “He was inspired to write it, while standing on this bridge.”“Yes, Mart,” said the irrepressible Nancy, who was overflowing with fun to-day, “but he probably waited until he got home to write the poem. There wouldn’t be much light here on the bridge at midnight, you know; especially in Longfellow’s time.”Martha refused to say another word until they were going up the brick walk toward an old colonial house set well back on a shrub-dotted lawn, with several great elm trees spreading protecting branches over all.“Some house,” she whispered, inelegantly, to Jeanette.There was no chance to reply; for Jim stood at the top of the steps ready to welcome them. In the doorway was a beautiful white-haired woman, and in the dimness of the hall, just back of her, hovered a big, genial-looking man.“Come right in here,” said their hostess, after introductions were over, and Jim had taken their coats; and she led them into the library on the left of the long hall, which ran through the center of the house.“It's really not cool enough for a hearth fire to-day,” she went on; “but I think it looks so cozy that I just couldn't resist the temptation to have one started.”As they chatted of various matters, Mrs. Jackson’s keen, though kindly, eyes were taking careful stock of these new friends of her son.Mr. Pierce soon arrived, and shortly afterwards Griff burst in. Then all attempts at serious conversation ceased for a time. At five o’clock a maid brought in the tea service, and they all gathered about the table which Mrs. Jackson had placed near the hearth.Mr. Jackson, who had that fondness for young girls, which one so often finds in a man who has no daughters, busied himself waiting on the girls, and trying to make them comfortable.“Mother, Miss Scott’s cup is empty,” he would say, taking it away from Martha and carrying it to the tea table where his wife sat.“Do have a sandwich, Miss Pembroke! They are so small it takes a dozen to make one.”“Now you must see our garden,” said Mrs. Jackson, rising, when they had finished tea. “It is not very large, but we are quite proud, and very fond, of it.”While they strolled about among the flower beds and borders, and went on behind a tall hedge which separated the vegetable garden from the rest of the grounds, Mrs. Jackson managed to have a word or two alone with Nancy.“I do not find a vegetable garden and orchard so very interesting,” she said, taking the young girl by the arm. “Do you? Shall we sit down here beside the pool and watch the goldfish until the others came back?”“I should be glad to,” replied Nancy shyly.Jim turned around to see what had become of them; but at a look from his mother, he followed the others.“I want to say, dear, while I have a chance, that Jim has told me all about you; and I can quite understand why he has so completely lost his head, as well as his heart.”“You are very kind,” murmured Nancy.“I also want to commend you, my dear, on your very excellent sense. Now! That sounds funny, doesn’t it? As if I meant in choosing my Jim. But really, I mean your decision to wait a year to see how your sudden friendship wears.”“It was the only sensible thing to do, I thought,” said Nancy.“And you were quite right. You and Jim need to get better acquainted before choosing a life together. Naturally too, his father and I want to know you real well, if you will let us.”“I’ll be glad to.”“Then too, your parents will want to get acquainted with my boy. It is a pity we live so far apart; but there are ways of surmounting that difficulty, I think. We must do some planning together. You and Jim will have two or three short vacations during the college year, and we must make the most of them.”“It is good of you,” said Nancy impulsively, “to be so interested in me, when a month ago you had never heard of me; and to be so willing for Jim to be friends with me.”“I judged a great deal by what Jim told me about you yesterday, and I have added to my information by the impressions gained this afternoon,” replied Mrs. Jackson, smiling. “I always expected that sometime my boy would find the girl he wanted to marry; but I confess I was surprised that he found her so soon. I do not realize—mothers never do—that he is grown up. As you have doubtless discovered, Jim is quite diffident, and though he has gone about with the girls considerably, it was mostly in crowds, or with first one and then another. He has never gone with any one steadily; and that, coupled with the fact that he had no sisters, makes him in many ways quite unused to the ways of girls in particular.”The others came back to them at that moment, and all opportunity for further personal conversation was over.They all walked back to the house again. Mr. and Mrs. Jackson and Miss Ashton sat down before the fireplace; for the air was growing chilly, and they had spent some time in the garden. The young people went into the living room on the opposite side of the hall, and turned on the radio. The band music which immediately filled the room was an excellent cover for private conversation.Mr. Pierce and Martha drifted to a big davenport in an alcove formed by four small windows built out at one side of the room. Griff persuaded Jeanette to occupy the radio bench with him; for he loved to operate it, and could talk nonsense just as well while his fingers were busy with the dial. Jim coaxed Nancy into the sun parlor, which opened from the end of the room.“Well, Nan?” he asked, smiling at her as they sat down in big willow chairs facing the garden.“Oh Jim, your mother and father are lovely. I’m going to like them a lot, I know. Your mother and I had such a nice talk, and she was very, very nice to me.”Jim looked pleased.“I’m glad,” he said simply. “They like you too. I could tell by the way they acted. But who could help it?” he added.“I hope they will,” replied Nancy seriously, ignoring his last remark. “I certainly want them to like me.”“And you have a lovely home, Jim,” she added after a few minutes’ silence.“I like the old place, and I hope you will like it too. Dad said right away, when I told them about you, that this house was plenty big enough to add one small girl to it.”“That was nice of him——”“But?”Nancy only laughed, a bit embarrassed.“I know what you’re thinking, and I feel the same way—that we’d be better off by ourselves, even if we had only a very small establishment to start with.”“I’m glad that you feel that way too. But, how funny we are?” and Nancy stopped to laugh.“Why?”“We decided yesterday to be only friends, until June.”“Well, we’re just thinking what we’ll do when we’re more than friends.”“When?” repeated Nancy. “If, you mean.”“When, I said,” replied Jim decidedly.“Mother will want you to come here and make us a visit sometime before summer,” he continued.“Yes; she hinted at that, and spoke of our having several short vacations before that time.”“I hate to think of your going home to-morrow,” he said regretfully.“Yes, I’m sorry too; but Miss Ashton goes on a case this week, and poor Madelon won’t be able to get back for a while. Besides, my mother and Janie’s mother are anxious for us to get back. They have had no real chance to visit with us this summer; for Emma was there the first part of the vacation, and then we spent all our time getting ready for this trip. It won’t be long now, before college opens; and we really feel that we should give our people some attention.”Jim had been considering asking his mother to keep the girls a few days longer; but Nancy’s words made him reluctantly put aside the idea. After all, it would be better for her to come alone, say during the Easter vacation. Or perhaps at Christmas time.Thatwould be sooner.Miss Ashton appeared in the doorway.“I think we had better go now, young folks,” she said.They followed her out to put on their wraps, but they moved reluctantly.“I tried to persuade Mr. and Mrs. Jackson to join us to-night,” said Miss Ashton, as they stood for a moment in the hall before the final good-bys.“It is very nice of you,” replied their hostess; “but unfortunately we have made other plans for this evening. I shall hope to see you all again, though, before too long a time has passed.”After various expressions of pleasure over the afternoon’s visit, they all walked slowly down the steps and along the brick path to the street where Mr. Jackson had his car ready to take them home.“Good-by, my dear,” said Mrs. Jackson, kissing Nancy, who was the last one, except Jim, to get into the machine. “I hope you will be able to come again, and very soon.”“I’m not going to say good-by,” said Mr. Jackson, when they got out of the car at Miss Ashton’s apartment. “I hate the word, anyway; so I’ll just say ‘good night and see you in the morning.’”“What did he mean?” asked Nancy, as she and Jim walked up the steps together.“I don’t know exactly,” replied Jim. “Dad is a bit soft-hearted, though you’d never guess it to judge by his size and appearance; and, as he said, he never likes to bid people good-by.”“Soft-hearted,” thought Nancy. “Like father, like son. That is where Jim gets his big heart from. His mother is charming, but much more practical. I like both of them, but I fancy his father and I will be more especially chummy.”The supper party was a hilarious affair. Everybody felt very gay, and Griff quite outdid even himself. He insisted upon setting the table, but Jeanette had to follow him around, correcting his errors of omission and commission. The table had built-in benches on either side of it, instead of chairs, and the space between was very narrow. On one of his trips around the table, he slipped and fell, scattering a handful of silver in all directions. He could not, or pretended he could not, extricate himself; and the other two boys had to go to his rescue. With much laughter and difficulty they succeeded in getting him out, and gathering up the silverware.“Now,” said Martha firmly, taking him by the arm and leading him to a chair in the living room, “just come right in here and sit down. And don’t youdarestir until you are called.”She left him sobbing noisily, his face buried in his handkerchief.When the other two boys had finished setting the table, and supper was ready to serve, they went to call Griff; and they found him, spread out in the big chair, sound asleep.“Let’s leave him there,” suggested the hard-hearted Martha.“His fall must have tired him out,” remarked John Pierce, grinning.“Come on, Griff,” called Jim. “Eats!”“Where?” he cried, jumping up. “Oh, I remember.” He sighed deeply, sinking back and covering his face with his hands.“Oh, cut the comedy, and come on!” directed John Pierce, dragging him to his feet.Throughout the meal, he assumed the most exaggerated shyness, speaking only in a whisper, and hardly raising his eyes from his plate. No amount of razzing on the part of the others could make him change his manner; and it was only when they began to clear up and wash the dishes, that his real self reappeared.“Which is worse than the other,” declared Martha.The girls had managed to get their kodak pictures finished, and the rest of the evening was spent in going over them, and recalling amusing bits of their Nova Scotia tour.“Like Dad,” said Jim, when the boys prepared to leave, “we won't say good-by; for I'm sure some of us, I won’t say for sure how many, will be at the station in the morning. What time did you say your train goes?”“Nine something, I think. What is the exact time, Janie?” asked Nancy.“Nine fifty,” prompted Jeanette.“Then we’ll say, au revoir,” said Mr. Pierce.“Say au revoir, but not good-by,” caroled Griff in a lyric tenor.“Be quiet! Other folks in this house are probably asleep,” ordered Jim; and he and John Pierce pushed Griff rapidly along the hall in the direction of the elevator.“It was a lovely, party,” sighed Nancy, as they prepared the rooms for the night; “and it was most awfully nice of you, Miss Ashton, to have it.”“I was indeed glad to be able to,” replied their hostess; “and I think I enjoyed it almost, if not quite, as well as you young folks.”
CHAPTER XII
THE UNEXPECTED
Tim met them at the head of the gangplank; and after having their chairs placed, he and Nancy strolled about the deck to inspect the crowd.
Finally a little tug, carrying the end of a heavy cable attached to the steamer, swung out into the harbor. After describing a wide semicircle, it took up its position waiting for a signal. Soon it was given; and by skilful manipulation the little boat pulled the big one slowly away from the wharf and headed it out to sea. Its work done, the tug steamed fussily back to the dock.
“So,” said Martha suddenly, as they all lay in their steamer chairs, wrapped in rugs, and watching the rapidly receding shores of Nova Scotia against the sunset, “we got away without my having my third fall, or Nan losing her third pocketbook.”
“But,” said Jeanette, “you nearly fell, when you turned on your ankle, Mart; and Nan nearly lost her little red purse.”
“A miss is as good as a mile,” declared Martha.
“Peut-on dire d’une chose qu’elle est perdue quand on sait où est die?”1quoted Jim softly.
“What’s that?” asked Martha.
“Didn’t you ever have that French exercise which tells about the sailor who lost the silver teapot?”
“Yes, of course; but what’s that got to do with it?”
“If you don’t know, I’ll never tell you,” laughed Nan.
Jeanette said nothing; for she was quite certain that the little red purse was not in Nan’s possession.
“My goodness, it’s getting rough,” complained Martha presently. “I’m going down to bed.”
“So am I,” said Jeanette.
They made their way to their respective staterooms as rapidly as possible.
“Will it be like this all the way, do you suppose?” asked Nancy anxiously.
“I doubt it. This is the wash from the Bay of Fundy that we're getting now. It will be calmer after a while,” replied Jim, slipping a big warm hand over her cold one under the edge of the steamer rug. “Go to your stateroom if you want to; but I think if you lie here, perfectly quiet, you will be quite all right.”
Presently the moon came up, and the ocean was a scene of fairyland. It was a couple of hours later when Nancy crept in beside Jeanette, who was sleeping soundly under heavy blankets in the big stateroom, filled with fresh salt air which was sweeping in through the open port hole.
Toward morning, the foghorn began to blow; and Nancy looked at her watch. Five o’clock. They were due to dock between seven and eight. Too early to get up; but, try as she would, she could not go to sleep again. So she lay, thinking over the things she and Jim had talked about the preceding evening on deck. At half-past five she rose, dressed, and began to pack.
“If I have all this done early, there will be more time to spend on deck. I'll do Janie’s too,” she decided, after finishing her own. “Dear, dear Janie!”
She had just closed her own suitcase, and had Jeanette’s all ready to slide in the last things, when a terrific jar threw her forward onto the floor.
“Oh, what is it?” cried Jeanette, who was instantly aroused by the unusual motion. “Nan dear, are you hurt?”
Nancy assured her that she was not.
The sound of opening doors, running feet, shouts, curt directions were heard; then—the ringing of the big alarm!Thatmeant for everybody to get out on deck.
“Get dressed as quickly as you can, girls,” called Miss Ashton from the opposite state room. “We’ve been struck; but, don’t get frightened.”
In less time than she ever dressed before, Jeanette got ready to go up on deck.
Jim met them in the passageway.
“Your life preservers,” he said, “are under the berths. Get them,” taking their bags from them. “I’ll show you how to put them on.”
He quickly buckled them in place; his own was already on. Then he helped Miss Ashton and Martha with theirs, and they all joined the throng of passengers who were trying to get to the promenade deck.
Ship officers were everywhere, keeping order among the startled passengers. It was a calm crowd, fortunately, rather inclined to treat the accident as an adventure.
“I woke up,” said one man whose stateroom was on the lowest deck, “to find the nose of some other steamer in my room. ‘Well, old girl,’ I said, ‘either you or I’ll have to get out of here. I must have some privacy! And I guess it had better be me.’ So here I am.”
“Well, I looked all over for my toothbrush,” said one woman, “while Joe hollered at me all the time to hurry. ‘You go on if you want to,’ I said to him at last; ‘but I won’t stir until I find that toothbrush.’ And Ididn’t.”
She was carrying it carefully in her hand, evidently having left all her other belongings behind.
Another woman was taking great care of an umbrella and a box of candy. Martha clung fast to her untouched basket of fruit.
A strange sight met their eyes when they reached the promenade deck. Beside them, in the dense fog, was the steamer which had rammed them, her bow still in the hole she had made; apparently just “standing by” until help came.
The passengers surged in all directions. Some were crying, some laughing hysterically; others pale and silent; but most were as calm as if this were an everyday occurrence, or at least an interesting one. A few blustered angrily over the delay and the inconvenience. The kicker, like the poor, we have always with us.
“There is really no danger,” cried John Pierce, working his way in and out among the people. “An SOS has been sent out, and assistance will soon be here.”
He had no time to linger with Martha now, but paused beside her long enough to say, “Don’t get excited. There is no need for worry.”
Jeanette and Martha, pale with anxiety, sat on the arms of Miss Ashton’s chair; for Jim had succeeded in finding a place for her to sit down. He and Nancy were half leaning, half sitting, on a pile of camp stools near by.
“Frightened, Nan?” he asked, looking down at her.
“Not—exactly,” she replied, bravely smiling up at him, but she shook with nervousness. “If there were only something one coulddo, instead of just having to wait passively.”
“I imagine it won’t be very long,” he said, slipping his arm around her to steady her a little. “We are so close to Boston that a boat, should reach us very quickly.”
“Isn’t it queer,” she observed presently, “how persistent a part the fog has played in this trip? The morning we landed at Yarmouth, that first night in Halifax, several times on our motor trip——”
“And on Turtle Head,” interrupted Jim in a low tone.
“And now it is pushing us into Boston,” she finished, smiling at him.
“Pushing us in!” echoed Martha, who had caught her last sentence. “How do you get that way? Keeping usout, you mean!”
“Miss Scott has recovered her speech at last,” observed Jim. “Is she often silent for so long a time?”
“Very seldom; but Jim, why don’t you call her Martha? Miss Scott sounds so very formal.”
“It isn’t very easy for me to get on familiar terms with people,” he replied slowly. “I never have made friends quickly—at least,” he corrected himself as he caught sight of her dancing eyes and funny little smile, “never until the present instance.”
“The exception which proves the rule?” she inquired.
“Exactly.”
“But Jim,” she added, more seriously; “the girls like you, and—and my friends must be yours too.”
“I know; I want them to he; and mine yours. You’ll like my special pal Griff Burton. He’s the most unconventional chap you ever saw; a perfect riot. But a prince of a fellow. I hope there will be a chance for you to meet him before you go home.”
“Shouldn’t you think they were sitting calmly in a living room somewhere on dry land, all by themselves, instead of here in a crowd of people on a foggy ocean, not knowing whether we’re going to the bottom or not?” whispered Martha, glancing at the two, absorbed in each other.
“Goodness, Mart, what a cheerful idea”; exclaimed Jeanette, ignoring the first part of her remark.
Miss Ashton made no comment; but she gazed rather thoughtfully out to sea.
“How long do you expect to stay in Boston?” continued Jim.
“I really don’t know. Our plans for the time subsequent to getting into Boston are not at all definite. If Madelon had been with us, you know I told you about Miss Ashton’s protégée, the little French girl?—we expected to run about the city a bit; and there were a couple of boys who spoke of meeting us here.”
“Who are they?” asked Jim quickly.
“One is a Junior at Roxford—his name is Phil Spenser; the other is his cousin, Tom Mixer. He’s a grad. They are having such a funny experience this summer,” and she went on to tell him of their adventures. “If we had come back to Boston when we expected to, I think it unlikely that they would have been here. But I sent Phil a card after our plans changed, and it may be that by this time they have made enough money to come on.”
“I should like you to meet my father and mother before you go back,” said Jim, after she had finished her story of the boys. “My brother is in Bermuda at present——”
“Oh, is he? That’s where Janie and I want to go next summer. We’re planning to ask our folks to give us the trip as a graduation present.”
“And after that, what?”
“I honestly don’t know, Jim. I wish I did. During this last year at college I’ll have to think hard, and come to some decision. Imightteach, for I love youngsters——”
“But only for, say a year or two?” interrupted Jim, in a very low tone.
“Why, I don’t know. I probably should keep at it if I liked it.”
“I mean just until I get well settled, and can take care of you?”
There was dead silence, broken only by the harsh sound of the foghorn, and the subdued voices of the crowd around them. Nancy’s heart raced madly; and although she felt Jim’s anxious eyes upon her, and knew he was waiting, she could not force herself to reply at once.
“You’re not angry; are you, Nan?” he asked at last.
She shook her head.
“And—and—you’ll do it?”
“Do what?”
Even in a serious moment like this, her fondness for mischief got the upper hand.
“You know perfectly well what I mean, Nancy,” he replied very gravely.
He had not meant to speak so soon; not for a long time. But in the excitement of the collision, and their possible danger—for truly help did seem mighty long in coming, and he knew that by this time water must be filling the hold of the steamer—he had thrown aside all reserve. He must let her know how very much he cared.
At that moment, a huge bulk loomed out of the fog, and there were shouts of joy from the passengers. Help had come.
Two at a time, “Like the animals going into the ark,” remarked the irrepressible Martha, the people were all transferred to theCity of Bostonwhich had come to rescue them; and the disabled steamer, being lightened, prepared to limp into port with her cargo, under her own power.
In the excitement Nancy managed to whisper to Jim:
“I can’t answer you now, with all this going on; maybe we’ll be able to have a few minutes together before I go home?”
“I’ll see that we do,” was his firm reply.
Rumors of the accident had reached Boston, and the wharf was thronged with people. Some were friends or relatives of the passengers on the unfortunate steamers; others merely seekers of excitement. Jim managed to get his party through the crowd, and into a taxi.
“Sorry to hurry you away from Pierce, Miss—Martha,” he said, after they were seated in the cab and on their way to Miss Ashton’s apartment.
Nancy flashed him an approving glance.
“Oh, that's all right,” replied Martha frankly. “He knows where he can find me.”
Can one say of a thing that it is lost if one knows where it is?
CHAPTER XIII
A LETTER
Dear Mary,
“I don’t know how you will feel about it, but in spite of my careful chaperoning” [Miss Ashton smiled shrewdly to herself as she wrote that] “I’m afraid that I have let your little girl fall in love.
“I fancy I can see you stiffen up at that, and hear you say, ‘What nonsense! She is only a child.’ Perhaps she is in your eyes, still a little girl—I suppose that, to their own mothers, children never really grow up; but to others she is a very lovely and lovable young girl. She was always most attractive, but how wonderfully she has developed and improved during these last two years! I have not seen her, you know, since that summer she was so crushed by her uncle’s departure for Germany; and I imagine I see the change more clearly than you do.
“To get back to the subject in hand, I do not want to forestall Nancy’s confidences to you; for I am sure she will tell you about her new more-than-friend very soon, if she has not already; but I do want to give you my impressions of the case, as well as to let you have some information which will perhaps move you to smile, instead of frown, upon these two young things.
“James Jackson, the driver of the bus and conductor of our motor trip through Nova Scotia, is, except during the summer, a student at Harvard; and, from what I have found but, a very good student. This will be his senior year. His father and mother are well-known and highly esteemed descendants of the founders of the city. He has one brother, Edmund, who is at present running a lily farm in Bermuda. They are not wealthy people, but are very comfortable and live in one of the lovely old-fashioned houses in Cambridge. So much for his antecedents and position.
“Now, for the lad himself. Really, Mary he is a dear! A big, strong, manly fellow, but gentle and bashful as a girl—I correct myself, as girls used to be. He talks very little, and hides his ideas and emotions behind his serious face and quiet manners. There is plenty of character, force, and determination, however, in the background, ready to be exercised whenever needed. He has dark hair and eyes, though not quite so dark as Nancy’s; but he is much taller, and of course heavier, than she.
“Her manner toward him, as well as his toward her, have given no opportunity for criticism even by the most severe judge. It is such an ideal little romance that I just love to watch it. They are over in the Public Gardens now, looking at the flower beds. Whether they will really see them or not, I am not prepared to state.
“Seriously, Mary, they seem to be perfectly suited to each other—made for each other, as we used to say. What is the modern term? Soul mates, or some such foolish expression. It does not matter what we call it, however, as long as real love, respect, and honor form the foundation.
“The girls will be here for a few days longer. Run down, if you like, and look Jim over; or invite him to go home with Nancy for the week-end.
“Sincerely,“Lois Ashton.”
CHAPTER XIV
PLANS
In the meantime, Nancy and Jim were sitting on a bench which was placed on a tongue of land jutting out into the lake in the Public Gardens. A white swan, which Nancy had been feeding with gingersnaps, uttered its peculiar harsh cry to call her attention to its desire for more food.
“Well, Nan,” Jim was saying, “have you been thinking about what I asked you on the steamer this morning?”
“Yes, I have very seriously, in the intervals of fitting ourselves and belongings into Miss Ashton’s tiny apartment.”
“And you decided——”
“It’s this way, Jim,” said Nancy slowly, as if choosing her words very carefully. “I’m going to be perfectly frank. I—I care a lot for you, and just now I’m sure I’d never want to marry anyone else. But it seems to me that we would be foolish to tie ourselves up with an engagement just now, when we both have a whole year more at college. The senior year is a very important one, and we’ve got to be deciding what we want to do after we finish, and make preparations for work of some kind.”
“We could do all that just the same even if we were engaged,” protested Jim.
“Yes, but suppose this last year you should meet some other girl you care a lot for——”
“I won’t,” said Jim decidedly.
“You can’t be absolutelysure, Jim; and while I think there is no danger of my meeting anyone who could take your place, such a thingis, after all, a possibility, if not a probability. Just think! A month ago we had never even seen each other! We have known each other such a short time, and under such unusual conditions, don’t you really, way down in your heart, think that it would be wiser, safer, for both of us to go back to our old normal familiar lives for this one year, unfettered?”
“I see what you mean, even if I can’t enthuse over it very much.”
“Don’t misunderstand me—dear,” faltered Nancy, for Jim’s tone was rather hurt. “It’s frightfully hard for me to take this stand; but I feel that it is the right one, and—” her voice broke pathetically.
“Please—Nan,” begged Jim, “don’t. Fix things up to suit yourself, and I’ll do whatever you wish.”
“We can write regularly, that is, if you want to.”
Jim gave her such a disgusted look that Nancy smiled in spite of her earnestness.
“And probably,” she added, “we’ll be able to see each other once or twice during the year. Then, if next June we both feel the same way as we do now, you may ask me again. Though, as a matter of fact, you haven’t yet asked meonce.”
“Why Nancy, I did; I’m sure I did,” protested Jim so earnestly that she laughed.
“Why, Jim, you didn’t; I’m sure you didn’t,” she retorted. “You asked me to wait until you were making enough to take care of me.”
“Well, anyhow, you knew what I meant. But to make sure, if you must have it in so many words, Nancy, will you marry me?”
“Ask me that question on Commencement Day, and I’ll answer it.”
“Promise me one thing, Nan,” begged Jim very seriously; “that you won’t become engaged to anyone else until I have had my chance, again in June.”
“Of course, I’ll promise that; and—and Jim.”
“Yes?”
“If you find some other girl, and feel that you don’t want to ask me again, just mail to me the little spray of wild roses that Janie gave us on the Harbor ride that day—what ages ago it seems!—and I’ll understand.”
Jim laughed gayly.
“Fat chance of that!” he declared.
“But you’ll promise?” persisted Nancy.
“Oh, yes; to please you I’ll promise,” he agreed indulgently.
“My goodness!” exclaimed Nancy, looking at her watch after a long silence, during which the swan, disgusted at the lack of attention from the two human beings, sailed off down the lake, “do you know that it’s after five o’clock? Martha went off somewhere with Mr. Pierce; Jeanette was going through some of the shops; and Miss Ashton suggested that we all be back about five thirty. We had rather a ‘picked up’ lunch, as she called it; and to-night we’re going out to dine.”
“I know it.”
“You do? How?”
“Because I invited you all to go to dinner with me.”
“You did! When?”
“I asked Miss Ashton this morning, and she accepted for the crowd.”
“How very nice! And she never said a word about it.”
“She’s an awfully good scout,” said Jim fervently, if a bit irrelevantly.
“To-morrow,” he went on, “I hope to have you meet Mother and Dad. I told them all about you when I ran out home for lunch, and they want you, and the others too, of course, to come out for afternoon tea to-morrow.”
“I shall love seeing them, and your home, Jim.”
“They’ll love you, too. I’m going to have Griff there. I guess I’ll ask him for to-night too; and Pierce, if I can get hold of him.”
“Jim, you’re extravagant, taking such a big party out to dinner; though of course it would be loads of fun.”
“I have my whole summer’s pay, and we must celebrate some way.”
“Celebrate what?” asked Nancy quickly; but Jim only looked at her and laughed.
At six o’clock he was back at the apartment, bringing Griff with him. After introductions were over, they sat in the little living room waiting for John Pierce. Griff, a tall, blond youth, proved to be as lively and unconventional as Jim was serious and reserved. He roamed restlessly about, taking up ornaments and books and setting them down again, stumbling over footstools (whether accidentally of intentionally, it was difficult to tell), and getting into people’s way generally.
“Excuse it, please,” he said, as he bumped into Martha who was just turning away from the window for the third time.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked bluntly, as she watched him continue his ramble about the room.
“Me? Oh, I’m nervous.”
“Over what?”
“Meeting so many charming girls all at one time. It’s quite a strain on a fellow’s nerves. Didn’t you know that?”
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” said Jim smiling. “He’s quite harmless.”
“Indeed. And when you get really to know me,” added Griff, “you’ll like me a lot. Folks always do.”
Jeanette did not know quite what to make of him, and sat watching him, half fascinated, half disapproving. He noticed her gaze, interpreted it correctly, and, being a born tease, decided to bother her.
“Little blond girl,” he said, going over to her and taking her hand, “I feel that you are the only one here who really understands me. Come over on the window seat and talk to me, and I’ll sit as still as a mouse. Oh, have a heart,” he added, as she hesitated.
“Yes, Janie,” urged Martha; “do take pity on the rest of us, and keep that Perpetual Motion quiet for a few minutes. It would be an act of charity.”
Thus impelled, figuratively and literally, Jeanette, blushing to the roots of her hair, rose to comply with the request. Bowing low, Griff took her hand and led her ceremoniously across the room to the window seat, where he began to talk nonsense to her in a low tone.
“You other people will have to amuse yourselves,” he paused long enough to say. “We are too busy to bother about you.”
“Thank Heaven!” ejaculated Martha fervently.
After talking nonsense for a few minutes, Griff led the conversation to the subject of books and plays; and Jeanette found him a really delightful companion.
“I like to see the first impression Griff makes on strangers,” observed Jim to Nancy. “Martha is evidently going to fight with him all the time.”
“Yes, and poor Janie is fussed to death. She doesn’t know what to make of him. But,” she added in a lower tone, “they seem to be enjoying each other’s company now.”
“She’ll like him after a while. Girls always do.”
“Sorry to be so late,” said John Pierce, coming in at that moment; “but it couldn’t be helped.”
Jim introduced him to Griff, and the party went down in the elevator. A taxi soon whirled them through the streets to the Copley-Plaza Hotel.
“Oh, I’ve always heard so much about this, and wished to see it,” whispered Nancy to Jim as they entered.
A table for seven had been reserved for them at one side of the circular dining room, and they were soon making up for their “skimpy luncheon.” They had so many things to talk about, that they spent a long time over dinner.
“Now, what should you like to do?” asked Jim, when they finally rose from the table. “A movie?”
“I don’t know, Jim,” said Miss Ashton with some hesitation. “I should not like to be considered a spoil-sport, but it is half-past nine now, and we have had a most strenuous day. I think the girls had better forego the joys of the screen for the benefit of a little rest.”
She had been looking at her party while they were at dinner, and saw how tired and excited they all were; and she didn’t want to send the girls home looking like that. So after a stroll through the hotel, they returned to the apartment.
“I’m not going to ask you boys to come up,” said Miss Ashton, as they got out of the taxi. “But, let me see. To-morrow we’re going out to your house, Jim, for afternoon tea. In the morning we hope to go to church. Monday, these girls are going home. Suppose to-morrow night you all come here for a farewell supper. We’ll be crowded, but I know you won’t mind.”
The exclamations of delight with which her invitation was received fully repaid her for any work which it would entail.
Packing themselves away for the night in Miss Ashton’s tiny apartment was a problem, and they had so much fun over it that all inclination for sleep was destroyed.
The living room had what Martha persisted in calling a “wall bed.”
“Mart, it’s aMurphybed!” protested Jeanette, whenever it was mentioned.
“That may be its official name,” retorted Martha; “but it comes out of the wall, just the same.”
“Suppose you and Jeanette sleep here, Nancy,” suggested Miss Ashton, pulling it out. “Martha can take the davenport. We’ll push it over to the other side of the room.”
“And what about you?” inquired Nancy. “I have a cot which I can set up in the dressing room.”
“But you won’t be comfortable,” objected the girls. “Let one of us take the cot.”
“Indeed I won’t. I’m used to sleeping anywhere. Wait until I get it fixed and you’ll see how cozy it really is.”
It was. The cot fitted in between the wall and the dressing table in the tiny room which connected the living room with the bathroom; and plenty of air came in from the living room windows directly opposite, if the door between were left open.
“This is heaps of fun,” declared Martha, when they were at last in bed, and the lights had been extinguished. “Who’d ever think that this time last night we were on the ocean, and to be shipwrecked before morning, and not knowing anything about it.”
“If they could have known about it ahead of time, Mart,” laughed Nancy, “I suppose it might have been avoided.”
“I saidwe, notthey!” retorted Martha, as she turned over with a flop. She was soon fast asleep, as was also Miss Ashton.
“Janie, are you sleepy?” whispered Nancy after a while.
“Not very. Are you?”
“No. Janie——”
“Yes, Nan?”
“I suppose you noticed that Jim has been—has been—sort of nice to me.”
“Yes.”
“Well—he—he asked me to marry him.”
“Oh, Nancy darling, I’m so glad!”
Jeanette caught her friend in her arms, and squeezed her until she could hardly breathe. “I think he’s just fine, and I hope you’ll be just awfully, awfully happy.”
“Not so fast! Not so fast!” protested Nancy. “I haven’t said ‘yes’ yet.”
“You haven’t? Why Nan, don’t you care too? I thought you did.”
“I do; but I must be positive. It is too eternal, too serious a thing to decide in a hurry. I’m not even engaged yet.”
She went on to tell Jeanette the substance of Jim’s and her conversation on the subject; adding, as she finished, “Of course you know without my telling you that this is just between you and me. I suppose Miss Ashton suspects; and Jim has told his father and mother. I’ll tell Mother and Dad, and Uncle John, but I don’t want anyone else even to suspect it.”
“But Martha?” said Jeanette.
“Oh, she’s so wrapped up in Mr. Pierce that she probably hasn’t even noticed us,” giggled Nancy softly.
“Don’t deceive yourself,” said Jeanette, smiling to herself in the darkness over Nan’s naivete, “Martha is more observing than you give her credit for being. She hides a lot under that rather abrupt way of hers.”
“I wonder if I had better tell her, then, and caution her not to mention it.”
“Of course, Nan, it isn’t necessary to tell her; but perhaps it would be as well if you did. She will appreciate your confiding in her, and will, of course, say nothing about it. And I think, Nan, that you have been very wise in your decision, hard as it must now seem to you and Jim.”
“I felt that it was the only thing to do, Janie. I really want to finish college, and be prepared to earn my living in some way if it is ever necessary. So many girls think that if they can only get hold of a man, they need never lift a finger again.”
“I know; and one can never be sure what will happen at some time in the future. It is foolish not to find out what one thing we can do well, and then fit ourselves to do it. Then, in an emergency, there is something to depend upon.”
The girls talked for some time. They had missed their intimate companionship in the excitement and confusion of the past few days, and it gave both of them much pleasure to get together and talk things over in the old intimate way.
“Well, now that we’ve talked it all over, and aired our ideas,” said Nan, “perhaps we’d better try to go to sleep. To-morrow is going to be a full day too, and we don’t want to be tired out.”
“I’m glad to be going home to see the folks,” she went on, “for it seems ages since we left. I am a bit disappointed, though, at seeing nothing of Boston; aren’t you? I did hope todothe town while we were here.”
“Yes; I’m disappointed too, Nan. It is such an interesting city—so different from other large cities.”
“There is only one Boston, and I’ve wanted, ever since I studied history, to explore not only the city itself but also its surroundings.”
“And Cape Cod, that Joseph Lincoln writes about,” added Jeanette.
“Well, perhaps some time we shall be able to come back again,” said Nancy, yawning.
“I am quite sure,” said Jeanette, squeezing her friend’s hand, “that at leastyouwill.”
CHAPTER XV
PARTIES
As a result of the late hours which they had kept, in spite of Miss Ashton’s resolutions, and also of the excitement and over-fatigue, it was eleven o’clock the next morning before any of the girls stirred.
A stray sunbeam, coming through a tiny hole in the shade, shone directly in Nancy’s eyes, and awakened her. For a moment she did not know where she was; then the events of the preceding day rushed through her mind. She lay still for a while, listening to hear if anyone else was awake. Not hearing a sound, she drew her watch from under her pillow. Her involuntary exclamation roused Jeanette.
“What’s the matter, Nan?” she inquired, sleepily.
“Guess what time it is!”
“Oh, about seven o’clock, I suppose. But please tell me it’s only five.”
“Add four to your seven.”
“Nan, you don’t mean it!”
Nancy held the watch before Jeanette’s eyes. “Imagine! And I don’t think I stirred all night.”
“I’m sure I didn’t. I never slept so late in all my life.”
“Oh, did we disturb you?” Nancy asked, as Miss Ashton appeared in the doorway.
“Disturb me!” she repeated. “It’s time somebody did. Do you two know the hour?”
“Just discovered it. I’m afraid we won’t get to church to-day,” said Nancy, regretfully. Martha slept peacefully on.
“It seems a shame to disturb her,” said Miss Ashton; “but we’ll be eating lunch before we have breakfast, if we put it off much longer.”
“Mart,” said Nancy, shaking her.
“What?”
“Time to get up.”
“Can’t be.” And Martha turned over and settled herself for another nap.
“But it’s a quarter after eleven!”
“You’re crazy!”
She was now fully aroused.
“I’ll start breakfast,” said Miss Ashton, going into the kitchen. “Come out as soon as you’re ready.”
“Why don’t we have breakfast and lunch in one?” called Nancy. “Then, since we’re going to have afternoon tea, we won’t need any noon meal.”.
“Not a bad idea,” replied Miss Ashton. “We’ll do that.”
Soon they were gathered about the built-in table in the breakfast nook. The sun was streaming in through the double window, and Jip, the canary, flew merrily about his cage above their heads.
“Can’t we do something to help you get ready for to-night?” asked Jeanette, as they were washing the dishes.
“Indeed you can,” replied Miss Ashton promptly. “Lots of things.”
“Good! Give us directions, and we’ll follow them to the letter,” said Nancy gayly.
“We’ll try to, you mean,” amended Martha. “Remember; we’re amateurs.”
“What are we going to have?” inquired Nancy.
“The menu is on top of that cabinet,” said Miss Ashton.
“Fruit cup,” read Nancy. “Um! I love it. Cream of pea soup, with croutons; celery, radishes and olives; breaded veal cutlet, with scalloped potatoes, and asparagus; tomato and lettuce salad with cheese wafers; vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce; cakes, and coffee. How lovely!”
“Oh, it makes me hungry just to listen to it,” cried Martha.
“Mart! And you’ve just finished your breakfast,” laughed Jeanette.
“And not apetit déjeunereither,” said Nancy.
“I didn’t eat any more than you did,” retorted Martha. “You had three muffins, an egg, and a heap of bacon, besides peaches and cream.”
“Don’t let’s stop to quarrel over what we ate,” said Jeanette. “We must get right to work. You allot our tasks, Miss Ashton, and we’ll do our best to perform them.”
It was two o’clock before everything that could be prepared ahead of time was finished.
“What are you going to wear this afternoon?” asked Martha, as they left the kitchenette.
“My flowered chiffon, I think,” replied Nancy; “and I’m going to keep it on for the evening, too. In fact, it is the only thing I have that is at all suitable.”
“What about you, Janie?”
“Would the powder blue georgette be too dressy, do you think?”
“Not a bit, and you look so lovely in it,” replied Nancy. “And why don’t you wear your green and white figured georgette, Mart?”
“I guess I will.”
All three girls had white coats and white felt hats, and Miss Ashton thought they looked very nice as they sat waiting for the taxi.
“This is called the Longfellow bridge,” said Miss Ashton, as they were crossing that lengthy span over the Charles River into Cambridge.
“Oh, is this where he was when he wrote—‘I stood on the bridge at midnight’?” cried Martha.
“This is the bridge he was referring to when he wrote that line,” laughed Miss Ashton. “He was inspired to write it, while standing on this bridge.”
“Yes, Mart,” said the irrepressible Nancy, who was overflowing with fun to-day, “but he probably waited until he got home to write the poem. There wouldn’t be much light here on the bridge at midnight, you know; especially in Longfellow’s time.”
Martha refused to say another word until they were going up the brick walk toward an old colonial house set well back on a shrub-dotted lawn, with several great elm trees spreading protecting branches over all.
“Some house,” she whispered, inelegantly, to Jeanette.
There was no chance to reply; for Jim stood at the top of the steps ready to welcome them. In the doorway was a beautiful white-haired woman, and in the dimness of the hall, just back of her, hovered a big, genial-looking man.
“Come right in here,” said their hostess, after introductions were over, and Jim had taken their coats; and she led them into the library on the left of the long hall, which ran through the center of the house.
“It's really not cool enough for a hearth fire to-day,” she went on; “but I think it looks so cozy that I just couldn't resist the temptation to have one started.”
As they chatted of various matters, Mrs. Jackson’s keen, though kindly, eyes were taking careful stock of these new friends of her son.
Mr. Pierce soon arrived, and shortly afterwards Griff burst in. Then all attempts at serious conversation ceased for a time. At five o’clock a maid brought in the tea service, and they all gathered about the table which Mrs. Jackson had placed near the hearth.
Mr. Jackson, who had that fondness for young girls, which one so often finds in a man who has no daughters, busied himself waiting on the girls, and trying to make them comfortable.
“Mother, Miss Scott’s cup is empty,” he would say, taking it away from Martha and carrying it to the tea table where his wife sat.
“Do have a sandwich, Miss Pembroke! They are so small it takes a dozen to make one.”
“Now you must see our garden,” said Mrs. Jackson, rising, when they had finished tea. “It is not very large, but we are quite proud, and very fond, of it.”
While they strolled about among the flower beds and borders, and went on behind a tall hedge which separated the vegetable garden from the rest of the grounds, Mrs. Jackson managed to have a word or two alone with Nancy.
“I do not find a vegetable garden and orchard so very interesting,” she said, taking the young girl by the arm. “Do you? Shall we sit down here beside the pool and watch the goldfish until the others came back?”
“I should be glad to,” replied Nancy shyly.
Jim turned around to see what had become of them; but at a look from his mother, he followed the others.
“I want to say, dear, while I have a chance, that Jim has told me all about you; and I can quite understand why he has so completely lost his head, as well as his heart.”
“You are very kind,” murmured Nancy.
“I also want to commend you, my dear, on your very excellent sense. Now! That sounds funny, doesn’t it? As if I meant in choosing my Jim. But really, I mean your decision to wait a year to see how your sudden friendship wears.”
“It was the only sensible thing to do, I thought,” said Nancy.
“And you were quite right. You and Jim need to get better acquainted before choosing a life together. Naturally too, his father and I want to know you real well, if you will let us.”
“I’ll be glad to.”
“Then too, your parents will want to get acquainted with my boy. It is a pity we live so far apart; but there are ways of surmounting that difficulty, I think. We must do some planning together. You and Jim will have two or three short vacations during the college year, and we must make the most of them.”
“It is good of you,” said Nancy impulsively, “to be so interested in me, when a month ago you had never heard of me; and to be so willing for Jim to be friends with me.”
“I judged a great deal by what Jim told me about you yesterday, and I have added to my information by the impressions gained this afternoon,” replied Mrs. Jackson, smiling. “I always expected that sometime my boy would find the girl he wanted to marry; but I confess I was surprised that he found her so soon. I do not realize—mothers never do—that he is grown up. As you have doubtless discovered, Jim is quite diffident, and though he has gone about with the girls considerably, it was mostly in crowds, or with first one and then another. He has never gone with any one steadily; and that, coupled with the fact that he had no sisters, makes him in many ways quite unused to the ways of girls in particular.”
The others came back to them at that moment, and all opportunity for further personal conversation was over.
They all walked back to the house again. Mr. and Mrs. Jackson and Miss Ashton sat down before the fireplace; for the air was growing chilly, and they had spent some time in the garden. The young people went into the living room on the opposite side of the hall, and turned on the radio. The band music which immediately filled the room was an excellent cover for private conversation.
Mr. Pierce and Martha drifted to a big davenport in an alcove formed by four small windows built out at one side of the room. Griff persuaded Jeanette to occupy the radio bench with him; for he loved to operate it, and could talk nonsense just as well while his fingers were busy with the dial. Jim coaxed Nancy into the sun parlor, which opened from the end of the room.
“Well, Nan?” he asked, smiling at her as they sat down in big willow chairs facing the garden.
“Oh Jim, your mother and father are lovely. I’m going to like them a lot, I know. Your mother and I had such a nice talk, and she was very, very nice to me.”
Jim looked pleased.
“I’m glad,” he said simply. “They like you too. I could tell by the way they acted. But who could help it?” he added.
“I hope they will,” replied Nancy seriously, ignoring his last remark. “I certainly want them to like me.”
“And you have a lovely home, Jim,” she added after a few minutes’ silence.
“I like the old place, and I hope you will like it too. Dad said right away, when I told them about you, that this house was plenty big enough to add one small girl to it.”
“That was nice of him——”
“But?”
Nancy only laughed, a bit embarrassed.
“I know what you’re thinking, and I feel the same way—that we’d be better off by ourselves, even if we had only a very small establishment to start with.”
“I’m glad that you feel that way too. But, how funny we are?” and Nancy stopped to laugh.
“Why?”
“We decided yesterday to be only friends, until June.”
“Well, we’re just thinking what we’ll do when we’re more than friends.”
“When?” repeated Nancy. “If, you mean.”
“When, I said,” replied Jim decidedly.
“Mother will want you to come here and make us a visit sometime before summer,” he continued.
“Yes; she hinted at that, and spoke of our having several short vacations before that time.”
“I hate to think of your going home to-morrow,” he said regretfully.
“Yes, I’m sorry too; but Miss Ashton goes on a case this week, and poor Madelon won’t be able to get back for a while. Besides, my mother and Janie’s mother are anxious for us to get back. They have had no real chance to visit with us this summer; for Emma was there the first part of the vacation, and then we spent all our time getting ready for this trip. It won’t be long now, before college opens; and we really feel that we should give our people some attention.”
Jim had been considering asking his mother to keep the girls a few days longer; but Nancy’s words made him reluctantly put aside the idea. After all, it would be better for her to come alone, say during the Easter vacation. Or perhaps at Christmas time.Thatwould be sooner.
Miss Ashton appeared in the doorway.
“I think we had better go now, young folks,” she said.
They followed her out to put on their wraps, but they moved reluctantly.
“I tried to persuade Mr. and Mrs. Jackson to join us to-night,” said Miss Ashton, as they stood for a moment in the hall before the final good-bys.
“It is very nice of you,” replied their hostess; “but unfortunately we have made other plans for this evening. I shall hope to see you all again, though, before too long a time has passed.”
After various expressions of pleasure over the afternoon’s visit, they all walked slowly down the steps and along the brick path to the street where Mr. Jackson had his car ready to take them home.
“Good-by, my dear,” said Mrs. Jackson, kissing Nancy, who was the last one, except Jim, to get into the machine. “I hope you will be able to come again, and very soon.”
“I’m not going to say good-by,” said Mr. Jackson, when they got out of the car at Miss Ashton’s apartment. “I hate the word, anyway; so I’ll just say ‘good night and see you in the morning.’”
“What did he mean?” asked Nancy, as she and Jim walked up the steps together.
“I don’t know exactly,” replied Jim. “Dad is a bit soft-hearted, though you’d never guess it to judge by his size and appearance; and, as he said, he never likes to bid people good-by.”
“Soft-hearted,” thought Nancy. “Like father, like son. That is where Jim gets his big heart from. His mother is charming, but much more practical. I like both of them, but I fancy his father and I will be more especially chummy.”
The supper party was a hilarious affair. Everybody felt very gay, and Griff quite outdid even himself. He insisted upon setting the table, but Jeanette had to follow him around, correcting his errors of omission and commission. The table had built-in benches on either side of it, instead of chairs, and the space between was very narrow. On one of his trips around the table, he slipped and fell, scattering a handful of silver in all directions. He could not, or pretended he could not, extricate himself; and the other two boys had to go to his rescue. With much laughter and difficulty they succeeded in getting him out, and gathering up the silverware.
“Now,” said Martha firmly, taking him by the arm and leading him to a chair in the living room, “just come right in here and sit down. And don’t youdarestir until you are called.”
She left him sobbing noisily, his face buried in his handkerchief.
When the other two boys had finished setting the table, and supper was ready to serve, they went to call Griff; and they found him, spread out in the big chair, sound asleep.
“Let’s leave him there,” suggested the hard-hearted Martha.
“His fall must have tired him out,” remarked John Pierce, grinning.
“Come on, Griff,” called Jim. “Eats!”
“Where?” he cried, jumping up. “Oh, I remember.” He sighed deeply, sinking back and covering his face with his hands.
“Oh, cut the comedy, and come on!” directed John Pierce, dragging him to his feet.
Throughout the meal, he assumed the most exaggerated shyness, speaking only in a whisper, and hardly raising his eyes from his plate. No amount of razzing on the part of the others could make him change his manner; and it was only when they began to clear up and wash the dishes, that his real self reappeared.
“Which is worse than the other,” declared Martha.
The girls had managed to get their kodak pictures finished, and the rest of the evening was spent in going over them, and recalling amusing bits of their Nova Scotia tour.
“Like Dad,” said Jim, when the boys prepared to leave, “we won't say good-by; for I'm sure some of us, I won’t say for sure how many, will be at the station in the morning. What time did you say your train goes?”
“Nine something, I think. What is the exact time, Janie?” asked Nancy.
“Nine fifty,” prompted Jeanette.
“Then we’ll say, au revoir,” said Mr. Pierce.
“Say au revoir, but not good-by,” caroled Griff in a lyric tenor.
“Be quiet! Other folks in this house are probably asleep,” ordered Jim; and he and John Pierce pushed Griff rapidly along the hall in the direction of the elevator.
“It was a lovely, party,” sighed Nancy, as they prepared the rooms for the night; “and it was most awfully nice of you, Miss Ashton, to have it.”
“I was indeed glad to be able to,” replied their hostess; “and I think I enjoyed it almost, if not quite, as well as you young folks.”