ON THE WAY TO PINEWOOD
For half a minute Nancy Nelson had been inactive. Her quick mind had
suggested the way the boy in the millrace might be saved; but the
chauffeur of the automobile was the instrument by which the helpless
victim's course down the current had been retarded.
But now it looked as though he would be lost, after all. Below the race
the water was most boisterous--and there were many jagged rocks. If he
was drawn through the race he would be seriously injured on the rocks,
if not drowned.
The bright-minded girl saw all this in those few seconds. She scrambled
down the steep bank, clutching at the chauffeur's ankle as she went.
"You'll have to hold both of us for a minute!" she cried.
"Go ahead! I understand!" he returned, swaying his body back as he clung
to the stout cord, and digging his heels into the bank.
Nancy hung over the swift current and stretched her right hand down to
the boy.
"Get hold! Grab me!" she called, gaspingly.
"I--I'll pull you in," he replied, in a strangled tone.
"Do what I tell you!" she cried, angrily.
She flung herself farther out just as his left arm was unhooked from the
inflated tire. She seized his wrist; he had presence of mind enough to
seize hers in return.
"Let go of the tire!" she sang out to the chauffeur, and he obeyed.
He was a strong young man. As the tire went whirling down the stream he
drew them both up the bank--the girl first, clinging with desperation to
the wrist of the half-drowned boy.
Wet, spattered, with mud, and exhausted, Nancy got a footing on firm
ground once more. The chauffeur grabbed at the boy's other arm, and he
was quickly lying on the bank, too.
"It--it almost got me!" gasped the boy.
His face was streaked with mud, and he was altogether a sorry spectacle.
But through it all he had clung to the bunch of water-lilies.
"Here! Take 'em!" he panted, thrusting the blooms into Nancy's hand.
"You--you're all right! Say! wha-what's your name----"
Nancy heard the other girls coming down the path now. The danger was
over and she suddenly realized that she must look a perfect fright.
"N-never mind! Thanks!" she blurted out, and turning sharply, dashed
into the cover of the thicket and was almost instantly out of sight--out
of sound, as well.
But she was so excited that she did not think again how she looked until
she appeared before Miss Trigg.
The short-sighted teacher looked up at her--stared, evidently without
identifying her charge for the moment--and then gave voice.
"Nancy! Nancy Nelson! Whatever have you been doing to yourself?"
"I--I----"
Nancy had already heard the motor get under way. She knew that the boy
and his friends were now out of hearing, or reach.
"Aren't these lilies pretty?" she asked, holding out the flowers as a
peace-offering to Miss Trigg.
"_What?_" screamed the teacher, getting up nimbly, and backing away from
the mud-bedaubed figure of the girl. "Your feet are wet! Did--did you
_dare_ get into such a mess, just to get those--those _weeds_?"
Nancy nodded. It was true. Her bedrabblement had been the forerunner of
the gift of flowers from the boy.
"Well! of all things!" gasped Miss Trigg.
"I--I believe you've taken leave of your senses. Why--why, whatever
will people think of you, going home? We--we can't ride in the car. They
wouldn't let you get on. And I'd be ashamed to be seen with you."
"Oh! I'm sorry, Miss Trigg," murmured Nancy.
"Being sorry won't take the mud off that dress--or bring a new pair of
stockings--or clean those boots. We've got to have a cab--a closed cab.
I wouldn't go home with you in anything else."
"I--I'll go home alone, Miss Trigg," said the contrite girl.
"No! While Miss Prentice is away you shall never again be out of my
sight in waking hours--no, Miss! And for a bunch of weeds!"
"Oh Miss Trigg! they are _so-o_ pretty----"
"Don't you say another word!" commanded the teacher. "And you stand
right here until I can signal a cab on the drive below. There, there's
one now!"
The teacher burst through the bushes and waved madly to a taxi rolling
slowly along the macadam below the hill. The driver saw her and stopped.
"Come!" spoke Miss Trigg. "Here! give me those--those _things_."
She snatched the lilies from Nancy's hand and flung them in the path.
The girl looked back at them longingly; but she thought it best to
trifle with the teacher no further.
So she followed slowly the gaunt, angry woman down the steep path, and
only the memory of the boy's gift remained with her through the rest of
the days of that last vacation at Higbee School.
Nancy was in disgrace with Miss Trigg, and was very lonely. She wondered
who the boy was--and where he lived--and who the girls were with
him--and if he had suffered any bad result from his adventure.
Above all, she wondered if she should ever see him again.
But that was not likely. Miss Prentice came home in a week, and in
another week the school would open.
Mr. Gordon had sent the ticket for Nancy's fare to Clintondale. Her
modest trunk was packed. Miss Prentice bade her a perfunctory good-bye.
It was a cold farewell, indeed, to the only home the girl could remember
and in which she had lived for at least three-quarters of her life.
But as the cab which was to take her to the railway station was about to
start, Miss Trigg hurried out. She had scarcely recovered from the
shock of Nancy's adventure at the millpond; but after all there was a
spark of human feeling deep down in the teacher's heart.
"I--I hope you'll do well, Nancy," she stammered. "Do--_do_ keep up well
in your studies and be a credit to us. And for mercy's sake don't
venture into a pond again after nasty weeds. It's not--not ladylike."
Nancy thought she was going to kiss her. But it had been a long time
since Miss Trigg had kissed anybody, and it is doubtful if she really
knew how. So she thought better of it, shook hands with Nancy in a
mannish way, turned abruptly, and stalked back into the house.
The taxi rolled away, and Nancy winked back the tears. It was not hard.
After all, the orphan girl was leaving nothing behind that she really
_loved_.