A WELCOME GUEST
Three days later, when Jenny entered the farmhouse kitchen, Grandpa Si,
who was washing at the small sink pump, looked up twinkling-eyed to
inquire: “Wall, Jenny-gal, them examinations are over now, ain’t they? I
reckon they wasn’t nigh so terribul as yo’d figgered, when you got plumb
up to ’em, was they now?”
Jenny, looking very pale and weary, dropped into the big armed chair
opposite her grandmother, who was shelling peas for supper.
Then, unexpectedly, she burst into tears. Instantly the pan of peas was
placed on the table and her grandmother had comforting arms about the
girl. “Dearie, what is ailin’ yo’? Warn’t yo’ able to get the right
answers for them examination questions?”
The distressed grandfather also hovered about, saying huskily: “Now look
a-here, little un, we don’t keer, not a farthing’s worth, whether you
knowed them answers or didn’t know ’em. I reckon you’re smarter’n most,
how-so-ever, ’twas.” Jenny, who had been clinging to her grandmother,
astonished them by saying between sobs: “’Tisn’t the examinations I’m
crying about. It’s Lenora. They let me see her for a moment this
afternoon and she is so weak and oh so unhappy. She thinks she will never
get well, not if she has to stay in that cold, dreary old seminary, and
Oh, Grandma Sue, how I do want her to get well. I have always longed to
have a sister, and when I found Lenora Gale, I made believe she was the
sister I had so wanted. No one knows how I love her.”
The old couple were greatly distressed. All these years their “gal” had
so longed to have a sister of her very own, and all that time she had had
one, whom she didn’t know. Grandma Sue smoothed the rumpled hair and
kissed Jenny on the forehead. “Go to your room, dearie, and rest till
supper time,” she said soothingly. “You’re all tired out with them
examinations. You’ll feel better after you’ve had suthin’ warm to eat.”
Jenny permitted her grandfather to help her out of the chair and to lead
her toward her room. There she flung herself down on her bed, and the
loving old man drew a cover over her. Then he tiptoed back to the
kitchen. “Ma,” he said, “I reckon us and Mis’ Poindexter-Jones have got
suthin’ to answer for, makin’ it so them two gals grew up not knowin’ as
they was sisters.”
“Mabbe so,” the old woman had resumed her pea-shelling. “Mabbe so, Silas,
but it’s too late now. That proud, haughty gal wouldn’t thank no one to
tell her she’s our Jenny’s sister, and she wouldn’t be no comfort to our
gal, bein’ as she’s been fetched up so different. But that sweet Lenora
Gale, her as is a farmer’s daughter, she’s a friend more suitin’ to our
Jenny.” For a few moments the old woman’s fingers were busy, but she was
silent and thoughtful. When the peas were ready for the pot, she poured
them into the boiling water, then turned and said: “Silas Warner, you and
me keer more to have Jenny happy than anything else, don’t we?”
“I reckon we do, Ma. What be yo’ aimin’ at? I kin see easy thar’s suthin’
yo’ want to say. I’m agreeable to it, whatever ’tis.”
The old woman seemed relieved. “I was thinkin’ as how it would please our
Jenny if we was to let her invite her friend Lenora to visit her here a
spell. Jenny could sleep on the couch in the livin’ room, and let the
sick gal have her bed. I think more’n half what’s the matter with Lenora
Gale is that she’s pinin’ for a place that’s home wi’ folks in it to keer
for her. Jenny says she’s allays speakin’ of her ma, lonesome-like,
because she’s dead.”
The old man blew his nose hard, then said blinkingly: “Pore little gal! I
was jest a thinkin’ how it might o’ been our Jenny that was sick up to
that school prison wi’ no one as really keered.”
Jenny’s joy knew no bounds when she learned that she might invite her
dear friend Lenora Gale to come to her home and make her a real visit. So
sure was she that the sick girl would accept, Jenny was up the next day
with the sun. Tying a towel about her curly light brown hair and donning
an all-over apron, she swept and scoured and dusted her very own room
until it fairly shone. Then she brought in a basket of flowers and put a
tumbler full of them in every place where it would stand, with a big bowl
of roses on the marble-topped center table. When Grandma Sue called her
to breakfast, she skipped to the kitchen and, taking the old couple each
by an arm, she led them to the door of her room, singing out: “What do
you think of that as a bower for the Princess Lenora?”
“Wall, now,” said the old man admiringly, “if our gal ain’t got it fixed
up handsome. I reckon your little friend’ll get well in no time wi’ you
waitin’ on her, and so much cheeriness to look at.”
It was not until they were seated about the table eating their breakfast
that Jenny suddenly thought of the possibility that something might
happen to prevent Lenora from coming that day. “Maybe she’ll have to
write and ask her daddy or her brother and wait for an answer.” For a
moment this fear shadowed the shining face, but it did not last long. As
soon as the breakfast was over she sprang up and began to clear things
away, but her grandmother gently took a dish from her hand. “Thar now,
dearie, you have no need to help. I reckon you’re eager to be drivin’
over to the seminary. You’d better start right off.”
Impulsively the girl kissed a wrinkled cheek of the old woman. “Oh,
Granny Sue, was there ever any other person quite so understanding as you
are? I’ll go, if you’ll promise not to do a single thing but the dishes
while I am away. Please leave the churning for me to do when I come back
with Lenora.”
“Tut! tut!” said her grandfather. “Don’t get your heart set on fetchin’
that Lenora gal back with you right to onct. Like as not she won’t be
strong enough to ride along of Dobbin today.”
But Jenny would not allow herself to be discouraged. “Time enough for
that when I find Lenora can’t come,” she confided to Dobbin while she was
harnessing that faithful animal. He looked around at her, not without
curiosity, as though he wondered why it was his little mistress was so
often elated. Impulsively, Jenny hugged him as she said: “Oh, Dob, you
old dear, you have no idea how happy I am, nor who it is you are going to
bring back to Rocky Point Farm. Have you, now?” She peered around his
blinder, but seeing only a rather sleepily blinking eye, she climbed upon
the high seat of the wagon, backed from the barn and, turning to wave
toward the house, she drove out of the lane singing at the top of her
sweet voice.
No vehicle was in sight as she carefully crossed the wide Coast Highway.
Her granddad had told her always to come to a full stop before driving
across, as there were often processions of high-powered cars passing
their lane. It was, however, too early for pleasure-seekers to be abroad
and so Dobbin started climbing the canyon road leading to the seminary,
and even there they met no one. Jenny’s heart was so brimming over with
joy that she could not be quiet. When she was not confiding her hopes to
Dobbin, she was singing.
Suddenly she stopped, for, having reached a turn in the road, she saw
ahead of her a young man on horseback. He had drawn to one side and was
evidently waiting for the singer to appear. Jenny flushed, for she knew
that he must have heard, as she had been trying some high soprano arias
of her own composing. The young man had a frank, kind face with no
suspicion of a smile, and so the girl decided that he was merely waiting
for someone whom he expected, but, as she drew near, he lifted his cap
and asked: “Pardon me, but can you tell me if I am on the Live Oak Road?
You have so many canyon roads about here leading into the foothills. I am
looking for the Granger Place Seminary, where my sister Lenora Gale is
staying.”
Jenny impulsively put her hand to her heart. “Oh!” she gasped. “Are you
going to take Lenora away? Please don’t!”
Charles Gale, cap in his hand, gazed inquiringly at the girl, who hurried
on to explain: “You see, Lenora and I are best friends and she is so
unhappy up at that school, where she doesn’t know anyone, really, and she
has been so sick, my grandmother told me I might bring her over to our
house to make a visit. Granny Sue said just as I left, ‘Jenny, tell your
little friend she may stay with us as long as she wants to, until she is
real well, anyway.’” So this was Jenny Warner.
The girl paused for breath and the young man, smiling at her, said
sincerely: “I am indeed glad to learn that my sister has so true a
friend, indeed, more than one, I judge, since your grandmother sent such
a kind message to her, but I have come to take Lenora back with me.”
Jenny’s ever expressive face registered such disappointment and sorrow
that the young man could not but add: “Suppose we go up to the seminary
together and talk the matter over with my sister. Perhaps, if she is not
strong enough to travel, it may be well for her to remain with you for a
week or two. I would be glad to leave her in a pleasant place at least
that long, as I shall not be through at the agricultural college for two
weeks yet. Then I can accompany Lenora back to Dakota where our father so
eagerly awaits her coming.”
Realizing that, as he had not introduced himself he said: “I presume that
my sister has mentioned her brother Charles.”
“Oh, yes, I knew you at once.” Jenny’s clear brown eyes gazed out at him
with friendly interest. “You look like Lenora, though I can’t say just
how.” Then, as she again started Dobbin up the hill road, she beamed at
her companion as she said: “This is going to be a happy day for your
sister. How surprised she will be, and how glad! And I’m glad that I met
you, for Miss Granger might have said that Lenora could not visit me, but
if you say that she can, no one else will have any authority.” Then
impulsively: “I’m going to be your friend forever and ever.” Then with
one of her sudden changes, Jenny flashed a bright look at him, as she
pointed ahead: “There, did you ever see a view like that before?” They
had reached the top of the hill road and were near the seminary gate.
The view across the valley to the towering mountains was indeed
magnificent. Then Jenny looked back of her and again pointed, this time
toward the sea. “That is Rocky Point, just below the canyon road,” she
said, “and that old adobe is our farmhouse.”
Charles was much impressed with the beauty of it all, and, as his gaze
wandered back to the glowing face of the girl, he heard rather than
thought, “You’ll just love Jenny Warner.”
Aloud he asked: “And is this the seminary?” His companion nodded and led
the way between the high stone gate posts.
“Maybe I’d better wait outside while you go in and see Miss Granger,”
Jenny suggested when they drew rein at the front of the seminary.
But Charles Gale would not agree to that. Having dismounted, he fastened
the reins about a hitching post and asked if his companion could safely
leave her horse.
“Oh, yes, indeed,” Jenny replied brightly. “Dobbin wouldn’t move until I
came again, if it was never.”
Together they went up the wide stone steps and Charles lifted the iron
knocker. A maid admitted them, staring in amazement when she saw the
girl, who delivered eggs and honey at the kitchen door, arriving at the
front with a fine-looking young man in a golfing costume.
Charles, not knowing of this, could not understand the surprised
expression directed at his companion. Jenny smiled and said “good
morning” in her usual pleasant way. Having asked to see Miss Granger, he
presented his card.
“Walk in,” the maid said. “I’ll tell Miss Granger that you’re here, sir.”
When they were alone in the prim little reception room, Jenny confided:
“Maggie has never seen me coming to the front door. My grandfather raises
chickens and bees, and I often deliver honey and eggs around at the back
door. Perhaps Miss Granger may think it queer if——”
“Of course it isn’t queer!” Charles interrupted with emphasis. “My
sister’s best friend has the right to enter the front door of——” He did
not complete his sentence, but rose instead, for a stately, rather
haughty appearing woman had appeared. The visitor was warmly received.
“Mr. Gale, I am indeed pleased that you have come. Poor little Lenora has
not been at all well of late, and that is why I sent for you. She has
been at perfect liberty to do as she wished, as you requested, but she
contracts frequent colds, and this last one has lingered.”
Miss Granger hesitated, then confessed. “The truth is, your sister does
not seem to be real happy here. She is timid and does not care to mingle
with her schoolmates.”
Then she added frankly: “I find that, on the whole, the young ladies are
rather heartless. They do not make an effort to include in their
pleasures one who is naturally reserved and who, in turn, seems to care
nothing at all about being included.”
Miss Granger, on entering the room, had bowed somewhat distantly to Jenny
Warner, whom she did not recognize, as she had seldom seen her. Charles,
noting this, asked: “Miss Granger, are you acquainted with little Miss
Warner, whose grandfather is a farmer in this neighborhood?”
The woman, whose manner was rather frigid at all times, lifted her
eyebrows ever so slightly as though marveling that a young man whose
sister attended her select seminary should be found in the companionship
of a hired farmer’s granddaughter.
Their own father, Mr. Gale, might own a farm, but that was very
different, as he had countless acres of wheat lands, she understood, and
was very rich, while the Warners were merely hired to conduct a small
farm belonging to the Poindexter-Jones estate. All this went quickly
through the woman’s thoughts and she was astonished to hear the young man
saying:
“I have decided, Miss Granger, to remove my sister to the farm home of
Miss Warner for the two weeks remaining before I complete my studies at
the Berkeley Agricultural College. My sister is very fond of Miss Jenny,
and I feel that the companionship she will have in that home will do much
to help her recover the strength she will need for the long journey to
Dakota.”
Miss Granger prided herself on being able to hide all emotions, and on
never expressing surprise, but she could not resist saying:
“I was unaware of this friendship, which is the result, no doubt, of the
freedom of action which you wished your sister to have, but if it is a
friendship sanctioned by Lenora’s brother, I, of course, can say nothing
concerning it.”
Rising, she held out her hand: “I will have Miss Gale’s trunk packed at
once, and shall I have it sent to the Poindexter-Jones farm?”
“Yes, if you please, and thank you, Miss Granger, for your many
kindnesses to my sister.”
With a cold nod toward the girl and with a formal reply to Charles’
polite speech, she swept from the room. The lad turned with an amused
smile toward his companion. In a low voice he said:
“I understand now why Sister never wrote me that I would be sure to love
Miss Granger.”
Charles was shocked indeed at the appearance of the sister who was dearer
to him than life itself. Pale and so wearily she came into the room
leaning on the school nurse. Throwing her arms about her brother’s neck
she clung to him. “I’ve been so lonely for mother lately,” she sobbed. “I
dream of her often just as though she were alive and well. Then I am so
happy, but I waken and realize that mother is never coming back.”
The young man, much moved, pressed his cheek close to the tear-wet one of
the girl. “I know, darling, I know.” Then, striving to keep a break out
of his voice, he said cheerily: “See who is here, Sister. Someone of whom
you have often written me. And she has a wonderful plan to suggest.”
Lenora smiled wanly and held out a frail white hand. “I love Jenny
Warner,” she said as though informing her brother of something he already
knew. Then she asked, looking from one to the other: “Where am I going?
Home to father?”
“Not quite yet, dear girl,” her brother replied. “Jenny’s grandmother has
invited you to visit them for two weeks, or rather, until I am through
with my studies, then, if you are strong enough, I will take you home to
Dad.”
Before Lenora could express her pleasure, the ever watchful nurse stepped
forward, saying: “Miss Gale ought not to be kept standing. Miss Granger
has ordered the closed carriage and bade me accompany my patient to her
destination.”
“That’s fine.” Charles found it hard to keep a note of anxiety out of his
voice when Lenora sank into a near chair and began to cough. He followed
the nurse from the room when she went to get her wraps. “Please tell me
my sister’s condition,” he said in a low, troubled voice. “Her lungs are
not affected, are they?”
“No, I am glad to say they are not. The trouble seems to be in her
throat.” Then, after a thoughtful moment, the nurse added, glancing about
to be sure that no one was near: “I would not wish to be quoted, but I
believe Miss Gale’s recovery depends upon her being in an environment
which she will enjoy. Here she is very lonely and broods continually for
the mother who is gone.”
“Thank you for having told me.” Charles was indeed grateful to the nurse,
whose name he did not know. “I shall see that such an environment is
found for my dear sister if it exists anywhere. Our mother has been dead
for several years, but, as time goes on, we miss her more and more.”
“I understand,” the nurse said as though she, too, had had a similar
loss, then she glided quietly away.
On returning to the reception room, Jenny suggested that she would better
go at once to the farmhouse that she might be there to welcome Lenora and
the nurse. Charles agreed that the plan was a good one, and so, tenderly
kissing her friend, Jenny went out; the young man opening the door for
her.
When she had driven away, Charles returned to his sister, who smiled up
at him faintly as she said: “Wasn’t I right, Charles? Isn’t Jenny the
sweetest, dearest girl you ever saw?”
But her brother shook his head. “No, indeed,” he said, emphatically,
taking one of the listless hands from the arm of the chair. “The
sweetest, dearest girl in this world to me is your very own self, and,
although I am quite willing to like any girl whom you may select as a
best friend, you will never get me to acknowledge that she is sweeter
than my very own sister. However, I will agree that I am pleased with
Miss Jenny Warner to the extent of being willing, even glad, to have you
in the same house with her until you are strong enough to travel to our
home with me. I’ll wire Dad tonight. I have purposely kept your illness
from him. It would be unwise for him to come here at this time of the
year. We cannot both be away from the farm at seeding time.”
The nurse reappeared, saying the coach was waiting. The young giant of a
lad lifted his sister and carried her out of the seminary which she was
indeed glad to leave.
Jenny and her grandmother were on the side porch of the picturesque adobe
farmhouse when Charles Gale on horseback rode up, immediately followed by
the closed carriage. Susan Warner with tender pity in her face and voice,
welcomed the pale girl, who was lifted out of the conveyance by the
strong arms of her brother. Lenora’s sweet gray eyes were brimmed with
tears and her lips trembled when she tried to thank the old woman for her
great kindness. “There, there, dearie. Don’t try to be sayin’ anything
now. You’re all petered out with the ride.” Then cheerily: “Jenny’ll show
you where to fetch little Lenora, Mister—” she hesitated and the girl at
her side hastened to say: “Grandma Sue, this is Charles Gale, Lenora’s
brother. Miss Granger had sent for him.”
The pleasant-faced young man bowed as he apologized for his inability to
remove his hat. His sister having recovered from her first desire to cry,
smilingly did it for him. “Haven’t I a giant for a brother?” she asked;
then holding out a frail hand to the nurse, who had descended from the
carriage carrying the wraps and a satchel. Lenora said: “Mrs. Warner,
this is Miss Adelaide Wells, who has been very kind to me.” Then, as
memory of the place she had left surged over her, the tears again came:
“Oh, brother,” she half sobbed, clinging to him, “promise me I’ll never,
never have to be sent to a seminary again.”
“Why, of course not,” he assured her. “When I have finished my schooling
you and I will go back to our farm home and stay there forever and
forever. If you need any further instruction, I can help you, so put that
fear quite out of your thought.”
The girl smiled, but seemed too weak to make a reply. Charles followed
Jenny through the kitchen and the cheerful living room into the bedroom
which had been decked in so festive a fashion only that morning. After
the nurse had put Lenora to bed, she returned to the seminary. The weary
girl rested for a while with her eyes closed, then she opened them and
looked about her.
She found Jenny sitting quietly by her bedside just waiting. Lenora
smiled without speaking and seemed to be listening to the rush of the
waves on the rocks, then she said: “That is the lullabye I once said I
would like to hear in the night. It’s like magic, having it all come to
pass.”
She smiled around at the flowers. “How sweet they are! I know that each
one tells me some message of the thoughtfulness and love of my friend.”
Holding out a frail hand, Lenora continued: “Jenny Warner, if I live, I
am going to do something to make you glad that you have been so kind to
me.”
A pang, like a pain, shot through the listener’s heart. “If I live.” She
had not for one moment thought that her dear, dear friend might die. She
was relieved to hear the other girl add in a brighter manner, as though
she felt stronger after her brief rest: “I believe now that I shall live,
but truly, Jenny, I didn’t care much when I lay all day up there in that
cold, dreary seminary with no one near to mind whether I stayed or went.
But now that I am here with you in this lovely, cheerful room, somehow I
feel sure that I shall live.” Before her companion could reply, she
asked: “Where is brother Charles?”
Jenny glanced out of the window. “Oh, there he is, standing on that high
rock on the point, the one that canopies over our seat, you know, where
we sat the last time you were at the farm. Shall I call him, dear?”
Lenora nodded and so Jenny, bareheaded, ran out toward the point of
rocks. Charles, turning, saw her and went to meet her. “Has my sister
rested?” he asked. Jenny said that she had, then anxiously she inquired:
“Mr. Gale, what does the nurse think? Lenora is not seriously ill, is
she?”
There was a sudden shadowing of the eyes that looked down at her. “I
don’t know, Miss Jenny. I sincerely hope not. At my request Miss Wells
will send me a daily report of my sister’s condition. The nurse takes a
walk every afternoon, and, if your grandmother is willing, she will stop
here until our little Lenora is much better.”
“I think that a splendid plan. It will be better than having a doctor
call every day.” Then brightening: “Oh, Mr. Gale, I am sure Lenora will
get well. She is better, come and see for yourself.” And so together they
went indoors.