CHRISTMAS VACATION
After Don's discovery, things settled down into their normal course,
and the days followed one another in a monotonous row. Weeks passed,
and with the first really cold snap came the Christmas holidays.
Miss Carter and the two girls started on a Friday afternoon for Old
Chester. There was only one cloud on their happy day and that had been
the last good-bys to Sally, who, with Daphne, had come down to the
station to see them off.
"I simply refuse to think of school without her," Phyllis said, as the
train pulled out of the tunnel and roared through the northern end of
the city.
"Not only school," sighed Janet, "but afternoons and Sundays. No more
skating parties at the rink, no more walks in the park, and no more
Saturday evenings at the movies, with Sally to make us laugh at the
wrong places."
"Oh, come, children, it's not as bad as that," Miss Carter protested.
"Sally will be home for the Easter holidays, and June isn't so very far
away."
"But we are going to Tom's in June," Phyllis reminded her.
"And when we come back Sally will be going back to that hateful old
school again," Janet added tragically.
"Oh, dear, dear, dear," laughed Auntie Mogs; "it's a very black world,
isn't it? I wonder, if I told you a secret, if you would cheer up and
see the sun shining once more?"
"What is it?"--the girls leaned forward eagerly; they had caught the
note of mystery in their aunt's voice.
"Well," said Auntie Mogs very solemnly, "it's only the beginning of a
secret, so you mustn't take it too seriously; but, just for fun,
suppose that next year Sally didn't go back to school alone; suppose
the Page twins went with her."
"Auntie Mogs!" Phyllis and Janet exclaimed so loudly that several
people in the parlor car turned to look at them, and one old gentleman
winked above his open paper.
"I only said suppose," Auntie Mogs reminded them, and she picked up her
paper with the most casual air in the world and began to read.
It is not difficult to imagine what the topic of conversation was
during the rest of the trip. In fact, they were still talking about it
as they drew in to the station.
"I hope I see somebody I know!" Janet exclaimed, as they followed the
porter with their bags; "but I don't suppose I will. It's exciting,
just the same; I feel as if I were dreaming," and she sighed happily.
Dreaming or not, it is certain that she was totally unprepared for the
sight that awaited her on the little platform. All Old Chester seemed
to be waiting to welcome her, and she stood looking at them in a daze.
The Blake girls and their mother were almost under her feet as she
stepped from the train, and Martha was just behind them. Harry
Waters's grin of welcome seemed a thing apart from his freckled face as
he took the bags away from the porter, his mother directing him fussily
the while. And off, a little to one side, stood Mrs. Todd, tall and
mannish as ever, but smiling her heartfelt welcome.
There was a hub-bub of greetings that lasted for several minutes, then
Mrs. Todd took command of affairs in her usual masterly way.
"Come along, Moggie, and call those children or we'll never get home.
My carriage is waiting just around the corner; the horses don't like
the train, sensible beasts, so Peter had to hold them. I suppose he's
died of impatience by now though," she added, smiling.
"Go with Mrs. Todd, dearie," Martha directed as she had always done.
"I am going home with Tim and the trunks, and I'll be there before you."
"All right," Janet agreed, smiling. It did seem good to hear her old
nurse's orders again. "Come on, Phyl," she called.
Phyllis nodded good-by to the Blake girls and joined her.
"If Sally were here she would call on Aunt Jane's poll parrot to
witness the mob,"--she laughed. "Aren't you proud, Jan?"
"Not a bit. Why should I be? They came to welcome you just as much as
they did me."
They joined their aunt and Mrs. Todd and walked to the back of the
station, where Harry, with Peter's aid, was stowing away the bags.
Janet could hardly believe her eyes, for it was a changed Peter indeed.
Gone were the faded blue overalls and the torn straw hat; a
well-fitting overcoat and a cap took their place, but they did not
succeed in hiding the mop of hair or the merry blue eyes.
"Hello, fairy princess," he greeted and then stopped, confused, as both
girls smiled up at him.
"Well, which are you?" he demanded, and Janet held her breath. Would
he, or wouldn't he know her?
A clear, jolly laugh reassured her.
"You had me guessing for a minute, but now I know." He took Janet's
hand and wrung it. "It's great to see you again," he said, still
smiling.
Janet introduced Phyllis and Miss Carter, and they all got into the
carriage.
"Come and see us to-morrow, Harry," Janet called, as they drove off.
"Morning, you betcha," Harry answered, waving his hat.
"Child, don't make too many plans," Mrs. Todd warned. "Peter and I
have filled up as much of your time as we dared."
"And we dared an awful lot," Peter added, laughing. "Fact is, I don't
think we left you more than a few minutes a day."
"Oh, tell us what we have to do?" Janet begged.
"One thing at a time," Peter replied gravely. "In case you forget,
to-morrow, if your Royal Highness so pleases, you are to take lunch
with us and inspect your domain. You will find many changes, but I
think you will approve of them all."
"Not the Enchanted Kingdom?" Janet protested.
"No, that is almost exactly as you left it," Peter assured her.
"Oh, Jan, I can see the house," Phyllis called, as they left the tiny
village behind them, and Janet's heart beat so fast as she recognized
the two big chimneys that looked, in the twilight, as though they were
swinging the widow's walk between them, that she thought she would
surely suffocate.
Peter drew up to the old carriage block with a flourish, and they all
jumped out. Martha was standing in the doorway to welcome them again.
They said good night to Mrs. Todd and Peter, and promised to be ready
when the carriage called for them the next day.
Janet walked up the garden path holding tight to Phyllis's hand, as
though she feared to wake up. Everything in the house was exactly as
she had left it. The old grandfather clock ticked out its steady song,
and the polished table reflected the shining candlesticks as of old.
Janet looked at her grandmother's door half fearfully.
"Go upstairs and take off your wraps," Martha was saying, "and then
come down. Your grandmother wants to see you before dinner."
Janet still held Phyllis's hand, as a few minutes later she knocked at
that closed door.
Mrs. Page proped herself up on her elbow and surveyed her two
granddaughters; her small bright eyes seemed more restless than ever.
They roved all over the room.
"Well, what have you got to say?" she demanded in the old querulous
tone.
"How are you, Grandmother?" Janet spoke first, and she laid her hand
timidly on the withered one that lay on the white counterpane.
"Hello, Grandmother; it's awfully nice to see you again. How are you?"
Phyllis, undaunted as always, leaned and kissed the withered cheek.
Mrs. Page laughed, a hard cackling laugh.
"You're as alike as two peas," she said, "but there's a mighty
difference. Janet, you haven't changed much," she added.
"Oh, but I have," Janet insisted, forgetting her self-consciousness for
the moment.
"Well, you don't show it," her grandmother snapped, and before Janet
could stop she heard herself saying, "Yes, Grandmother," in the
patient, respectful voice she had always used.
"How do you like us dressed alike?" Phyllis inquired cheerfully.
"Your hair's mussy," Mrs. Page replied shortly. "Why don't you braid
it?"
"Oh, but it's so much more becoming this way," laughed Phyllis.
"Fiddlesticks!" The word seemed to terminate the interview, for after
it was uttered Mrs. Page turned over, her face to the wall.
"Good night, Grandmother," Janet said softly, but Phyllis lingered long
enough to ask,
"Are you quite comfy, dear? Sha'n't I push this pillow so?" she won a
grudging "good night" for her pains.
After supper the girls went up to the widow's walk. It was a cold,
clear night, myriad stars winked down at them from the ice-blue sky,
below them the water lapped the beach incessantly, and the foam
sparkled in the starshine.
The girls watched it in silence for a minute, and then Phyllis said,
"Tell me something, Jan; does New York seem like a dream now that
you're back or does Old Chester?"
"Old Chester does," Janet replied after a little; "it all seems as
though my life here was a million years ago, instead of three short
months. I wonder why?"
"Because you're happier in New York, my angel child," Phyllis declared
happily. "And now let's go down again. I love your widow's walk, but
I am frozen to death."
They went down together and found Auntie Mogs sitting before the fire
in the living-room, roasting chestnuts, while Martha stood in the
doorway and offered suggestions and gossip.
It was late before they went to bed, but when Janet finally fell asleep
she was still holding Phyllis's hand in her firm grasp.