FROM THE NEXT PILE OF ROCKS
Grave misgivings flooded into Nancy’s mind. She had known of Rosalind’s
peculiarities, had often heard her mother express keen regret that she,
Uncle Frederic’s own sister, could not have done something to supply
the mother-need for Rosalind when Katherine Fernell was taken from her
daughter.
And it seemed more unfortunate than otherwise, that Uncle Fred’s
position guaranteed so much hired care for Rosalind, because it was
this fact that had separated her from Mrs. Brandon, Nancy’s mother
herself having been separated from her brother through a circumstance
not unlike this very issue.
Not that Nancy bothered now to recall all this, but just because the
“why” of her own circumstances compared oddly with the “why not” of
Rosalind’s. It appeared that Rosalind did not know why she should not
“sneak off to ride with Gar” when she was supposed to be following all
the rules of Fernlode, which must have forbidden this.
“I suppose it is not that I’m any better than Rosa,” the puzzled Nancy
was thinking, “but just because mother made me think differently.”
“Nance, I suppose you are tired from that long, dirty train ride,”
suggested Rosalind, who was getting out a wrap for herself and another
for Nancy. “Suppose we just scout around a little?”
“Scout around?”
“Yeppy. First let’s make sure you’re acquainted with your room, because
you might want to come in before I do,” said Rosalind. “Here’s all the
night stuff, but I don’t suppose you try to bathe and scour off fat
as I do. At any rate, do just as you please. Lock your door and yell
through the keyhole at Margot, and if she asks for me--”
“Won’t you be--in?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Rosalind hurried to assure the puzzled girl.
“I’m just preparing for emergencies. You see, I always expect them, but
they somehow seldom come.” A little sigh took years from Rosalind’s
heavy shoulders. She was acting now like such a very little girl, just
sighing for romance and adventure.
On the big front porch, they tried the swing. As ever Rosalind cuddled
up to Nancy in that eager, impulsive way that made Nancy feel sort of
old. She, not being demonstrative herself, leaving that prerogative
for the small brother Ted, could not at once get used to Rosalind’s
effusions.
“You see, Nance,” bubbled Rosalind, “I’m going to do something
won-der-ful!” This last word was dragged out like a tape line
measuring thrills. “I waited until you came--you see, Orilla is really
won-der-ful. She’s the very smartest thing. And you see, Nancy, _you_
can’t realize the curse of being fat.”
A peal of laughter from the amused Nancy checked this.
“You can’t really mean it, Rosa,” she said. “Being fat isn’t anything.
You’re just growing, and you won’t always be so--so stout,” the visitor
assured her cousin, kindly.
“No, you just bet I won’t, not if I know it,” declared Rosa, who even
then chewed a chocolate drop. “I’m going to get thin while the folks
are in Europe. Wait until you see Betty, then you’ll understand. She’s
just eel-ly, and she loves slippery clothes, the shimmery-shimmery
kind. How could she ever own me as a step-daughter?” Again the catchy
little sigh betrayed Rosa’s state of mind. Nancy was beginning to
wonder if she might not be a little bit jealous of the famously
beautiful Betty.
“But don’t you know,” cautioned Nancy, feeling more and more like a
grandmother giving advice, “it’s awfully dangerous to--to take off fat
too suddenly.”
“Don’t believe a word of it,” declared Rosa. “I’d take a chance on
reducing pounds per day if I knew how. You see,” shifting the cushion
and kicking the swing into action, “I inherit it from Grandmother
Cashion, mother’s mother. She was fat. I have her picture. And she had
curly hair like mine, so of course I just had to be like her,” argued
the surprising girl.
“But you also got the curls,” suggested Nancy, in genuine admiration.
“Which I don’t want. Orilla says they make me look fatter, more
babyish, you know.”
“I suppose Orilla has thin hair,” Nancy could not resist saying, for
she was already convinced of Orilla’s methods.
“’Tis straightish, rather straggily,” conceded Rosa. “But, you see,
Orilla doesn’t have to be pretty, she’s so smart.”
“What is she so smart about?” pressed Nancy.
“Oh, well, ’most everything,” floundered Rosa. “She intends to be a
nurse, no, a beauty doctor,” she corrected herself. “That’s why she’s
helping me.”
“How’s she doing it?” demanded Nancy, frankly.
“Oh, it’s sort of a secret, but, of course, I’ll tell you later on,”
agreed Rosa.
“Does your--does Betty know?”
“Mercy me, no! She’s the very last person on earth to know,” said Rosa
tragically. “I’m going to surprise her, and dad. It’s all beautifully
planned and I’m just waiting for them to sail, then I’ll sail in.”
“You’re an awful lot like our Ted,” Nancy told Rosa, a compliment
unqualified.
“Is he fat?”
“A little. But I don’t mean that way. I mean in making plans. He always
has the most wonderful ideas--”
“I’d love Ted. What a shame you didn’t bring him along.”
“He would have been jolly,” agreed the sister wistfully. “But you see,
Ted needs to be trained. Being a boy without a father--”
“Just like me being a girl without a mother,” spoke up Rosa. “I’d
_love_ to go to camp. In fact, father almost agreed, but Betty! You see
Betty believes in white hands and slim ankles.”
“Oh,” said Nancy.
“Want to go around to the other side of the house? We can watch the
boats from there. We have a motorboat but that’s one thing dad is
strict about. He just won’t let me go on the water at night without
him--imagine his having to be along always. And he won’t let me go in
a canoe even in broad daylight, unless I almost swear I’ll stay in the
cove, or just hug the edge. Dad is such a darling, I never would think
of breaking my word to him,” declared Rosa, her hand bruising Nancy’s
arm in making the declaration.
“We do feel that way when we love folks, don’t we?” supplied Nancy.
“Mother hardly asks me to promise anything, except where something
might be dangerous, but it’s fun to keep a promise as well as to break
it, if you just think that way. I’ve a chum who spends most of her
time planning to fool folks. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but I’ve tried
it and it didn’t turn out so funny. Once when I tried to fool Ted by
locking him out, he just climbed in a window I couldn’t reach, and I
came pretty near having to stay out in the rain all night. You see,
Miss Manners, we call her Manny--is to us about like Margot is to you.
Except, of course, she isn’t a servant, she’s a dear friend we found
last year out at Long Leigh. We had a great time last summer,” Nancy
continued. “I’ll have to tell you about it some time.”
“I’d love to hear. You had a shop or something, didn’t you?”
“Yes, a funny little store we turned into almost everything but a
church,” laughed Nancy. They were moving around the winding porch and
Nancy felt relieved that Rosa seemed to be more contented than she had
been at dinner time. Surely she wasn’t thinking of stealing off any
place?
“Doesn’t the lake look lovely with all the boats lighted up?” Rosa
exclaimed. “With the big black mountains at the back and the little
firefly boats in front--I guess this is one of the most beautiful lakes
in America,” she finished.
“It is glorious,” agreed Nancy. “But it makes me feel sort of
awe-stricken,” she admitted.
“Not homesick? That isn’t just a nice way of saying you’re homesick,
Nance?” asked Rosa solicitously.
“Oh, no indeed, Rosa,” denied Nancy. “But I was just thinking how dark
it can be under all these trees.”
“And this house hasn’t a bright spot in it,” added Rosa. “I wonder why
folks build with black beams in forests? And they always seem to. If I
were planning a mountain camp I’d have white pine wood and turn yellow
paint on with a hose, inside and out,” she declared. A car was coming
up the winding drive, its headlights threading their way through the
trees in glaring billows.
“There’s Gar!” exclaimed Rosa, joy juggling the words. “I’m so glad he
came over! Now, you won’t be homesick.”
“I wasn’t,” defended Nancy. But the car was at the steps now and Rosa
was racing off in that direction. The prospect of meeting a strange
boy fluttered Nancy, naturally, but Perhaps she would have been more
self-conscious had the caller been a girl. Girls are supposed to be
critical, and Nancy’s wardrobe was not elaborate, but boys--well boys
ought to be jolly. She knew that Ted and his little friends would still
be when they grew up.
“My cousin, you know, Gar,” Rosa was exclaiming, as the youth in white
knickers, with his prep school sweater of violent yellow, came along
the porch.
The introductions over, Nancy knew she was going to like Garfield
Durand. His manner toward Rosa was that of a big brother, and he did
not hesitate to argue against many of her suggestions.
“Can’t take you out, Rosa, unless you’re sure your dad won’t mind,” he
said frankly. Then turning to Nancy, “Don’t _you_ think it’s silly to
be meeting that Orilla girl--”
“Gar!” came Rosa’s warning. “Please don’t tell _all_ my secrets at
once. I’m sorry if I bother you--”
“Oh, now Rose, you know well enough I don’t mean that,” interrupted
Gar. “It’s just that you’re so--so easy with Orilla, and she’s a fox,
only you won’t believe it,” declared the boy, flushing.
An awkward silence followed that remark. It was very plain that Rosa
objected to discussing Orilla and her ways before Nancy. It was also
quite plain that the boy was trying to avoid something, perhaps a
clandestined ride which Rosa seemed bent upon. He didn’t settle himself
down as one does who might expect to stay awhile; in fact, he first sat
upon the porch rail, next straddled a bench, then flung himself into a
rocker and seemed to find it impossible to obtain any position suitable
to his turbulent mood.
“It’s certainly early enough _now_ to take a drive,” Suggested Rosa,
pointedly.
“Oh, surely,” agreed Gar. “Can’t I take you and your cousin over to the
Point, or some place?”
“Like a dear,” replied Rosa. “I’ll run and break the news to Margot.
She still believes in you, Gar,” and then Nancy found herself chatting
to the boy, free from the unpleasant little discussion and at ease,
because he seemed so frankly boyish and so eager to take her for the
proposed drive.
“Don’t mind my scrapping with Rose,” he remarked. “She’s such a kid and
so easily influenced. And you see, Mr. Fernell trusts our folks to sort
of keep track of her.”
“Of course. That’s splendid,” agreed Nancy. “You see I’m sort of a
stranger myself, and I guess Rosalind has been a lot alone--”
“You’re the very thing for her, and maybe just in time,” he said under
his breath, with an intention by no means clear to Nancy.
“Just in time!” she thought. “Whatever can that mean?”