IN WHICH MANY THINGS HAPPEN
Although Winston was indeed glad that he and his small sister were being
rescued, his heart was too full of anxiety concerning his mother’s fate
to really share in the hilarious rejoicing of his companions. Not
wishing to depress them by reminding them of his possible loss, he
smiled as cheerfully as he could, whenever he was addressed, but
Virginia noticed that he held little Peggy close to him during the sail
to the mainland.
Luckily the wind was back of them and they did not need to delay for
frequent tacks. While the other girls were telling the story of their
unexpected voyage to their three rescuers, Eleanor managed to find a
seat near Winston. She lifted shining eyes to her new-found cousin, but
in them tears slowly gathered. Then quietly she told him the story of
her mother’s long search for her sister Dorinda, “I cannot understand,”
the lad seemed perplexed. “I know that my mother repeatedly sent letters
to a sister in America, but the name on the envelope was never Burgess.”
“That is true,” the reply was sadly given. “Aunt Dorinda never knew that
my father was not—well, not what a husband should be to the best woman
in the world. It was because of his unworthiness that Mumsie took back
her maiden name.”
“I remember that my mother wrote everywhere that she could possibly hope
to find her sister, but the letters were always returned, unopened.
Sometimes on them would be stamped: ‘Name not in directory,’ and so my
mother, grieving over the loss of my father, was even more saddened by
the fear that she had also lost her sister. Broken in health and with
very little money, we went to England where I tried to work a small
farm. I learned a lot about it, and liked it tremendously, but mother
longed to get back to her home country. It was at that time that my
father’s brother sent us money for our passage, asking us to visit him
until my mother had regained her strength. The very thought that she
might hear what had happened to her sister made it possible for mother
to undertake the voyage, but now—” The lad, visibly affected turned
away. Eleanor slipped her hand over his.
“Dear cousin,” she said softly, “I have a feeling, deep in my heart,
that somehow, someway, all is to be well. Let’s keep hoping until we
know.”
They could say no more as the mainland dock had been reached. Virginia
had glanced at Winston and realizing that he and Eleanor wished to
converse alone, she had kept the others interested and occupied. Then as
they all landed, Betsy Clossen exclaimed: “Why, if here isn’t that
little red feather that led us into all this—this—what _shall_ I call
it?”
“A very wonderful something.” It was Eleanor who spoke. “For, because of
it, my dear cousins have been rescued.”
“I’m glad it all happened just as it did,” Virginia said. Then turning
to Benjy and his two companions, she held out her hand, adding: “I’m
going to be a self-appointed spokesman and thank you on behalf of us all
for your great kindness. Will you return with us to Vine Haven?”
“Rather, I am going to suggest that you accompany us to the village
which is reached much more easily, as the road beyond the cliff leads
directly there, and then we will take the next train back to Drexel,
while you can telephone for the school bus to come after you.”
This really excellent suggestion was acted upon. When the station was
reached, Benjy suggested that Winston accompany the three boys. One of
them, Jack Dennison, being the same build as the stranded youth, quietly
offered to loan him clothes until he could procure for himself the
things he needed.
“From there,” he told Eleanor, “I shall go directly to Boston in search
of my mother as that was the port where the boat hoped to put in to
await calmer seas.”
“And little Peggy shall go to Vine Haven with me.” The small girl looked
up happily and nestled confidingly close to her new-found relative.
It was all very mysterious to her but she accepted Eleanor
unquestioningly since her wonderful brother did.
Luckily the train was drawing into the station at the moment of their
arrival and so the four boys swung on up to the platform and almost
before the girls realized, they found themselves alone. Virginia at once
called up Mrs. Dorsey, who burst into tears when she learned that her
charges were safe and for several seconds she could not make herself
understood.
After that, in an unaccountably short time, or so it seemed, Micky
appeared with the bus. The little fellow was overjoyed to see his
beloved Babs once again. When the school was reached, the door was
thrown open and the stout and motherly Mrs. Dorsey ran down the steps,
her apron flying, her arms outstretched as though she would gather them
all into her warm embrace. “You darlings!” she sobbed, as she held close
those who were nearest. “This is the happiest moment, I guess, in the
long life of me. I was so dreading that I’d have to tell poor Mrs.
Martin that I hadn’t been worthy of the trust she’d put in me.” Then,
wiping her eyes with her apron, she added: “But do come in, you poor
tired-out creatures. I’ve been running around ever since you telephoned,
trying to get you up a good hot meal, and, as soon as you’re washed and
ready, it will be the same. Not washed, of course,” the kind woman
smiled through the tears that still came, “but anyhow ’twill be ready.”
Peggy, she had taken as a matter of course, not stopping to ask or
wonder how Eleanor Burgess had procured a little cousin on her strange
voyage.
The girls started away and had reached an upper landing when a flustered
and visibly excited housekeeper reappeared at the foot of the stairs.
“Oh, Eleanor Burgess,” she exclaimed. The girls all turned to listen.
“There’s been a phone call coming for you every little while. It’s long
distance and nobody but the operator speaks, so I don’t know who ’tis
that’s wanting you. Fearing it was your mother, I didn’t say anything
about your being lost. I just said call later, which I’m expecting they
will.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dorsey.” Then Eleanor turned glowing eyes toward her
friends. “Mother has come back even sooner than she had expected, I do
believe, and probably she is sending for me to come to her in Boston.
Oh, how glad I am that she knows nothing of our recent adventure.”
“You’ll be glad to see her, dear, won’t you?” Virginia kissed the
flushed cheek of her friend. Then they went to their rooms to change
their dresses. Eleanor hardly knew what to put on little Peggy.
The queer costume of the child had escaped Mrs. Dorsey’s notice since
Betsy Clossen, who was the smallest among them, had put her sweater coat
over the little one’s shoulders and it reached nearly to her knees.
“I have a dress in my trunk that I long ago outgrew,” Betsy said, “but I
liked it so much I have kept it. I believe it can be taken in with
safety so that at least it won’t slip off.”
A merry time the roommates had washing and dressing the little maid.
They did not attempt to take the tangles out of the child’s hair. “It
will have to be cut off, but we can’t do that now,” Eleanor said, and,
even as she spoke, a familiar gong sounded through the corridors.
“Good! My, but I’m hungry.” Betsy skipped to the door and flung it wide
open. Outside the other girls waited and then down the front stairs they
ran in a manner that was never seen at Vine Haven when Miss King awaited
them in the lower hall.
Eleanor glanced toward the telephone as they passed, wondering when it
would ring again. They were descending the stairs to the dining room
when she heard its summons. “Eleanor, come quick!” Betsy shouted from
the end of the line. “It’s probably for you!”