CHAPTER XXII
Thesummer was drawing to a close. There were only two weeks more of Camp, and Round Robin was resolved to make the most of this fortnight, before the little group should scatter to the four quarters of the land. For as Dick said it was like “boxing the compass” when they compared their winter plans. Dick was putting in long hours finishing up his studies with Hugh, before starting back to his home in the far West. Beverly, like the summer birds which were already showing restless flutterings in the treetops, would soon be flitting South. Victor was going to try his fortunes in New York, where Norma lived. Gilda and the Batchelders were due in Boston, where the public schools open early. And Cicely must sail back to England before the autumn storms were due.Nelly Sackett was still in High School at Old Harbor; she alone would remain, it seemed. Then there was Anne. What about Anne?
Round Robin was agreed that they must all treat Anne exactly as if nothing had happened. Anne was still Anne, and they had voted her a full and satisfactory member. The thing was to have as good a time and to make her have as good a time as possible in the short weeks left of the precious summer. There weren’t likely to be any more such exciting happenings as had kept them all on tenterhooks during these last days. But there were picnics and excursions planned; the hours were not long enough for all the delightful things they had put off till the end of summer, while the days were already growing shorter.
The morning Anne was expected back to camp Tante sent the Twins off to pick blueberries. Cicely and Nancy had already started with baskets for a “mushroam,” as they called a tramp to find the delicious tawny chanterelles that hid in the shadows under the spruce trees. Dick was studying in his tent; some of the others had gone for the mail.
Beverly announced that she was going to see Sal Seguin. The old Indian woman was free again, but Captain Sackett had let her live in his barn for a day or two, while she was being questioned about what she had seen that night when Idlewild was burned. Beverly wanted to give her a little present before she went home, for she and the old woman had become very good friends. Tante was left alone at Round Robin to welcome Anne; which was exactly what she had planned. She did not know that at this very moment Norma was racing breathless along the road, hoping to intercept Anne at the end of Cap’n Sackett’s lane.
“Heia! Hoia!” sang Norma in her musical soprano as she spied the two girls coming towards her, and in her dramatic Italian way she flourished a paper high in the air. Anne and Nelly, who were talking earnestly together, stopped their conversation and came up to her with a question. It did not seem as if there could be any event left to cause such excitement.
“Good news!” called Norma, her big eyesshining. And running forward she seized Anne in her arms and kissed her warmly. “I have had an answer to my telegram. I thought it would come this morning.” The girls still stared. They did not know about any telegram. But Norma explained that it was from her father in New York. “Let me read it,” she said unfolding the paper. “I ran all the way from the Post Office because I couldn’t wait, Anne.”
The telegram was, after its kind, brief and emphatic. “‘Wire needs of your girl friend. How much? Tell her bank on me. G. Sonnino.’—There!” said Norma triumphantly. “That’s just like Father! Now it’s all right.”
But Anne looked puzzled. “What do you mean?” she said. “I don’t understand.”
“It means that as soon as Father heard about—about your trouble, Anne, he just wanted to help. You can count on him for money enough to do whatever you please—for a while, anyway. Father will do anything for me, Anne. I am so glad!”
“Oh Norma!” exclaimed Nelly, glancing sidewise at Anne. She was afraid the impulsivegirl would hurt her cousin’s feelings. Anne flushed a little and hesitated.
“It is awfully good of you Norma, and your Father is kind as can be,” she said. “But—but I hope I shall not have to borrow any money from—from outside my family. I have a family, you know, Norma! Nelly is my cousin and Cap’n Sackett is my grandfather. I don’t think he would want me to take money from anyone else. Would he Nelly?”
Nelly shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said emphatically. Norma’s face fell.
“I am so disappointed,” she said. But she was wise enough not to press the point. “Well, I suppose I may as well wire Father now,” she said, turning reluctantly back towards the village. “He will be sorry. He loves to help.”
Here and there along the road a maple leaf turning red showed that the short summer was nearing its end. Blackberries were ripening above the stone walls. The birds were flitting in little groups through the treetops, keeping together, ready for their coming longflight. The golden rod stood suddenly ablaze, and the asters were putting on their royal purple.
“What a lovely road it is!” said Anne. “I never used to notice such things, but I have got new eyes this summer.”
They were about half way to Round Robin before they met Beverly. “Oh Anne!” she cried running up as soon as she saw the two cousins. “Iamso glad to see you again. I have missed you awfully. I’m on my way to see old Sal. But I’ll be back before luncheon. Let’s go for a swim as soon as I get back, shall we?”
“All right,” agreed Anne, glad to be offhanded.
Beverly turned on her heel as she was just disappearing down the path, “I say, Anne,” she drawled, “don’t you make any engagements for October! I’ve written Mother already that you are to come and visit us in Virginia for at least a month. We’ll have the best time! Everybody will want you; but don’t forget I’ve asked you first.” Annebeamed upon her with pleasure. Beverly was such a dear!
“I’d love to come, if I can,” she said. “But I’ll have to ask Grandfather, of course. And I don’t know about school yet.”
“We’ll fix it somehow,” Beverly nodded. “Mother will be crazy to see you. And you’ll love Liveoaks, our old place. Well, so-long! I’ll have to hurry if we are to get that swim.” And Beverly moved on, as fast as Beverly could.
“How dear they are!” thought Anne. “I never would have believed it, six weeks ago!”
Meanwhile, with Patsy in her lap, Tante sat on the piazza of the bungalow watching for Anne. As she darned the stockings of the Twins she glanced up every now and then anxiously. Anne was late. All these meetings and talks had delayed her and Nelly. When at last Tante saw the two girls coming along the path she laid down her mending and went to greet them with a sweet smile. “I am glad to see you back, Anne my dear!” she said, cordially. And Patsy arching his back seemed to agree with her, in an amiablepurr. “These two days have seemed long to us.”
Nelly lingered at the foot of the steps. She hated to give up this new-found cousin of hers. “I guess I will go back now,” she said, reluctantly. “Will you come over to-morrow, Anne?”
“Of course I will,” said Anne heartily. “Don’t feed the rabbit till I come. I want him to be glad to see me.”
“You don’t need to worry. We shall all be glad enough,” grinned Nelly. Anne waved her out of sight. Then she sat down on the piazza steps at Tante’s feet. It seemed as if she had been gone a week. But Tante acted exactly as if nothing had happened. Tante always treated everybody the same at one time as at another; which was one reason why everybody loved her so much. She told Anne some of the things the Club had planned for the next two weeks. Then she said quite casually that of course the Camp would be closed in September, and not opened till another summer.
“Another summer!” said Anne. “I supposeI shan’t see any of you till then. Won’t it be odd?” Tante asked her if she had any plan for the winter, and Anne hesitated. “Not any regular plan,” she asked. “You know everything about me, don’t you, Tante?” Tante said yes, she did.
“I have a foreign name now!” said Anne. “Isn’t it queer? I can’t quite get used to beingAnne Carlsen,” she spoke it strangely. Tante asked her if she liked her new name, and Anne confessed that it sounded better to her than the old one. Then Tante said a strange thing:
“Because, if you don’t like it we can change it. How would you like the name of Batchelder, for instance? How would you like to call Nancy your sister, and Hugh and the Twins your brothers, Anne?”
“Tante!” Anne gasped. What was she being offered? Nothing less than a new home and family. She had seen enough of that family to guess what a beautiful home they must have. Seeing Anne speechless, Tante went on to tell her how she had consulted her children and how they were pleased with theidea. They were not rich, she said. They lived in a simple city house, not in the least like the former luxurious home of Mr. Poole. They had no servants, and they all shared the work together, just as at Round Robin. Tante was a teacher, and so was Hugh. They would all have to earn their living some day. But, Tante said, all American children ought to be able to do that, whatever the future held in store for them. Anne should go to school with Nancy and learn the things she wished. Then in summer there would again be Camp, which was Tante’s “business.”
“You will be treated just the same as one of my own children, Anne,” said Tante. And Anne knew that Tante never said what she did not mean.
“Oh Tante! And you have such a big family already!”
“We have a big house,” smiled Tante. “We love to keep it filled.” Anne seemed to feel the warmth of happiness that must brim the rooms in Tante’s big house, radiating from Tante’s own big heart. Then suddenly she had a vision of the Captain’s happy look whenshe had first called him “Grandfather,” and of Nelly’s wistful good-bye. And she had a curious counter-pulling of her heart towards those people who really belonged to her.
“Does Grandfather know?” she said falteringly. Tante nodded.
“Certainly, I consulted him first,” she said. “He is willing you should choose for yourself, between his home and mine. Of course, you would still see him in the summer; but I should want to adopt you legally and have you take our name.”
Anne Carlsen stood looking at the ground, thinking harder than she had ever thought in her life before. What Tante had said made her very happy. To think that these lovely people wanted her in their family! And wanted to share with her their good old Yankee name! She was not yet quite familiar with her own proper Norwegian name; why should she mind giving it up so soon? And yet—strangely enough—Anne did not want to give it up!
“Myrealname is Carlsen,” she was saying to herself. “I never thought aboutwhat a real name meant, before. This one sounds foreign, but it ismine; given me by my good sailor father whom I never knew. I lost it once without knowing; now I have got it back again. And I’d like to keep it and make it real American. It is only asound; that is all the Batchelder name is, too. But it’smine. And I can only be myself, not a Batchelder.” She looked up at Tante with a wrinkle in her forehead, because she had been thinking so hard.
“You don’t have to tell me right away, Anne,” said Tante kindly. “Think it over, Dear.” But Anne shook her head.
“Oh, Tante, you dear Tante!” she replied in a low voice. “I love you all for inviting me. But if Grandfather wants me—and I think he does, Nelly says so—I want to be his girl. I want to make good with my own name, too. I think Grandfather would like that; because of my mother.”
Tante kissed her affectionately. “You are a dear little girl!” she said. “And you have thought things out pretty clearly, I see, in thisshort time. But you mustn’t be in a hurry. Take time before you decide, Anne.”
“That is what Grandfather said. But I have decided already,” said Anne firmly. “I know I am doing right. If Grandfather wants me, I am going to stay with him and Nelly. I shall do as he says, about school and everything.” And she told Tante what she hoped to be, when she should grow old enough to help in the world.
“I think you have chosen right,” said Tante. “But the children will be disappointed. Your Grandfather and I shall have to do some planning together.”
“Oh Tante! It is so nice to bewanted!” said Anne fervently.
Then the Twins came racing up. “Hooray, Anne!” cried Freddie. “Come and play Indian with us, will you?”
“Come and see how we’ve finished the house you began for us, Anne,” said Eddie pulling her by the hand. “It is so nice to have you back!”
“I’m coming,” said Anne. “And here’s Doughboy, too! But you just ought to seemy rabbits, Twins. Will you go over with me to Grandfather’s house to-morrow and see Plon and the others? That will be fun!”
Tante watched them racing down the path towards the sea; then went out to meet Nancy who was just returning from a visit to the Maguire children.
“Anne has decided to remain Anne Carlsen,” she said briefly. “I thought she would.”
“Well, I didn’t,” confessed Nancy. “I thought she’d jump at our family, Mother! The Golden Girl was just lonesome all the time, when we thought her disagreeable. I didn’t half understand her.”
“If you are going to write stories—or do anything else successfully, for that matter—you will have to learn to understand people,” said Tante smiling. “It is a great part of Imagination. Fairy Stories are only another small part, Nancy.”