A PRINCE IN HIDING
When Nora wrote to Barbara she drew word pictures of the beauties at
Woodland Wilds. She shed a tear of real joy when writing about Cousin
Jerry and Captain, and when she fondly recited the virtues of Cousin Ted
she felt she put more in that one word "Motherly" than could otherwise
have been conveyed.
It was in the writing of that letter that she took account of her actual
self, for in wording it she had naturally summed up.
"I am not just sure whether I entirely suit or not," she told Barbara.
"Sometimes I feel so different. Of course they all love me, even Vita
the cook, and I love them fondly, but don't you know, Babs, you always
told me I saw 'foohey' and you would not explain what it was to be that
way? But I guess I am, whatever it is, for a lot of alterations have
already been ordered," she wrote.
"My new outdoor clothes have arrived," the letter ran, "they are of
brown cloth" (she avoided the use of the word khaki) "and they will
stand a lot of hard wear. Cousin Jerry says we get them that color and
so we won't scare the birds and other woodland creatures. They are
supposed to think we are part of the landscape."
Nora then told of the attic, and its chest of treasures, and added she
expected to try on a couple of outfits the very first day she was free
from accompanying the surveying party.
All of which showed the visitor was "taking root," as Jerry would have
said.
A long tramp out in a marshy territory was to be undertaken by the two
veterans, Ted and Jerry, but because of the bad footing Nora was not
asked to go along. This provided the very opportunity Nora had been
waiting for, and hardly had the reliable old flivver "fluvved" away,
then she hurried up to the attic in search of a costume.
"Come on, Cap," she whispered, eluding Vita, but unwilling to go up in
the attic alone. She had not forgotten the suspicions of her first
night.
Too glad to obey, Cap led the way, and presently Nora forgot even the
"spook cabinet" in her interest over the open costume chest.
Things were mussed and musty, rumpled and wrinkled and crinkled; but
what colors and what a lot of bright tinsel!
"Oh joy," she exclaimed, dragging from the tangles a real Fauntleroy
costume. "I have always wanted to see how I would look dressed in this
sort of outfit," she thought, for the black velvet "knickers," the
little velvet jacket, and the lace blouse were all there, and yes, there
was a wonderful, bright silk scarf to go around the waist.
The cap was prettiest of all, and it was resting on Nora's yellow curls
before Cap could possibly make out what the whole proceedings meant. He
stood over in his corner and blinked, but Nora insisted on having his
opinion.
"Isn't it wonderful, Cap? And don't you like Nora in it?" she demanded.
He gave one of his peculiar exclamations rather louder than she had
expected, and to prevent the sounds from reaching Vita's ears, Nora put
both arms around Cap's neck and hugged him into silence.
She was very much excited. Ever since her arrival at the Nest she had
been planning a private masquerade, and now the time had come for her to
indulge in it.
Fanciful dream child that she was, the character of little Lord
Fauntleroy had always strongly appealed to her, and as for most girls
the boy's costume had a peculiar charm for her heroic ventures into the
world of make-believe.
"We'll take them down stairs," she told Cap. "We can dress much more
comfortably in my room."
Poking her head out to make sure Vita was not around, she tucked the
velvets and laces into her arms and hurried to the next floor. Seldom
had she locked the hall door, but she did so now, dismissing Cap
peremptorily, for there was no need of his protection on the second
floor.
"I suppose it's too big," she reasoned, when the little knickers were
pulled up as high as the button and button hole line. Yes, it was big,
this costume had been worn by a gay lady at a big country club dance,
and little Nora was scarcely a sample of the personality for which the
jaunty outfit had been created.
But mere size did not worry her. It was effect that she craved. The lacy
blouse fell into place quite naturally, and it did look boyish, while
the overblouse of black velvet completed the Fauntleroy picture.
"If the buckles would only stay buckled," she sighed, trying for the
third time to fasten the knee straps and keep them that way. It was not
pretty at all to have them slink down below her knees, like an untidy
schoolboy; and a pin had no possible effect on the heavy, velvety
finish.
"I know," breathed Nora, "I'll roll them." And she did that skillfully;
for in the season just past many and many a sock had she rolled and they
had stayed, although Barbara never could acquire the same knack.
It was all finally finished, and she inspected herself in the mirror,
slanted to the very last angle to show the full length. A pat of the
cap, a brash of the tie and a swish of the flying scarf gave the
finishing touches.
Really Nora made "a perfectly stunning" little Lord Fauntleroy. Had she
been more accustomed to the sayings of the day she might well have
exclaimed, "All dressed up and no place to go," but her culture admitted
of no such expressive parlance. Instead, she asked herself in the
looking glass: "Wonder if I dare go outside? It is so comfortable to
wear this style"; and she skipped around as every other girl on earth
has ever done the very moment she felt relieved of the trammel of
skirts.
The morning was unusually quiet. Vita must be away picking greens, the
surveyors were miles out, and there was no one but Cap to criticise. Why
shouldn't she stroll out grandly in her princely costume?
She did. The birds twittered and the rabbits scurried and the pet
squirrel stood up and begged. But Nora was not feeding the animals this
morning, instead, she flounced her lace sleeve in a most courtly gesture
and passed on to the cedar tree grove. Cedars seemed more appropriate
for velvets than did the other wild trees; besides, no underbrush grew
in the cedar grove, and it was much safer for costly finery.
On the rustic seat Nora felt exactly as she had felt the day Miss Baily
took her to sit for her picture, except that she crossed her legs
comfortably now, whereas, then, she was not even allowed to cross her
hands.
Presently the actress removed her (his) cap and poised it on the arm of
the chair. Did Lord Fauntleroy go out in his grounds alone? Perhaps she
should have called Cap to go along.
Then came thoughts of Nannie. Why must she, little Nora, always be so
far away from that pretty mother? And why did the picture life--the
make-believe--charm her like some secret failing? Did other girls really
like the horrid brown uniforms never pictured in books, that is, never,
until very lately? So raced her unruly thoughts.
Everything was so still, but Nora was not lonely--her own reflections
kept her such noisy company that isolation had no terror for her. Just
outside the cedar grove a strip of road waited for traffic. Few persons
passed, but even woodlands must have roads, just as skies must have
clouds.
Feeling more at home in her costume every moment, Nora stepped proudly
outside the grove into the clearance. A fat little hoptoad crossed the
path, but otherwise the prince was lord of all he surveyed. The whole
world was busy, evidently, and even a visiting prince attracted no
attention in the wild woodlands.
Nora wanted to whistle. She felt a prince, with hands in pockets
inspecting his domain, would surely whistle, but she had never made much
of a success at the wind song--it was Barbara who did all the whistling
for both. Still, she tried now, and the sound wasn't any worse than the
cracked call of the blue-jay, except that it did not carry so far.
What would Barbara say to this game of characters? A companion would add
to the possibilities of good times, Nora secretly admitted, but what
companion could she find in these wilds?
Just as a sense of loneliness came creeping over her she heard the
leaves somewhere crackle. The next moment a girl appeared a few paces up
the road, and called to her quickly: "Oh, I say boy! Have you seen the
Girl Scouts----"
The voice stopped as suddenly as it had started. The girl in uniform
looked so surprised, Nora was conscious of scrutiny, even at the
distance between them. She turned her head instinctively and so evaded a
direct look; but presently the girl called again:
"I am looking for the girls who are going over to the Ledge. Did you
happen to see them pass this way?"
"No," faltered Nora, in a voice not her own. "I just came along. I'm
looking for a car----"
"Oh, I saw one. It drove down the turn----"
"Thanks," jerked out Nora, taking the cue to escape, and waving her hand
in lieu of further conversation. She dodged behind the heavy elderberry
bush and almost gasped in fright. What would a Girl Scout think of her
in such a costume? Of course, she had no possible opportunity of seeing
her face, and she surely could never recognize her again. Making
positive she could get back to the Nest without again stepping out into
the roadway, Nora sped back as quickly as her feet could carry her. It
was always these Scouts; a sense of humiliation was now added to that of
dislike. Would they all talk about her? Perhaps make fun of her or think
her odd and foolish?
Too inexperienced to realize that the entire blame was her own, Nora
crept up to the flap-jack path that led directly to the cottage door.
Here she was stopped again, for Vita sat out by the big stump, either
counting or selecting something from her apron. So engrossed was she in
her task she did not hear Nora's footfall, and this gave the "prince"
another chance to escape detection. She darted back into the arbor and
waited. The only other way to enter the house was at front and she might
meet almost anyone in that way.
Her game was losing its charm. She would have given much to be free of
the finery and garbed again in her own simple clothes. It was rather
mortifying to be considered queer, and that one saving grace, a sense of
humor, was entirely lacking in the girl's make-up. Otherwise she might
have jumped down from a tree and frightened Vita out of her wits, thus
making a lark out of a difficulty.
She waited impatiently. What could Vita be doing that so held her
attention? Then the attic memories flashed back to Nora's mind and she
wondered.
"Cousin Ted leaves too much to that maid," she was deciding. "I might be
able to help by keeping a lookout."
But for what? Vita was surely trustworthy and even extremely kind to
Nora, the intruder.
A burr pricked the knee that refused to hold fast to the buckled finery.
It must have been rather a nuisance to dress like that. Nora rolled the
band tighter and lost her fancy hat in the effort.
Voices!
Girls' laughter. The Scouts, of course, and coming back toward the
cottage!
Without waiting to consider Vita's opinion, Nora sprang from her hiding
place and darted up the path into the cottage.
Voices within as well as without!
Cousin Ted was back from the woods and had company. How could Nora reach
her room without being seen?
She crouched behind the kitchen cabinet, hoping the voices would leave
the hall and enter the living room, but, evidently, there was a reason
for delay, and the big seat was right at the foot of the stairway!
Now Vita's flat slippers patted the stones and she was coming into the
kitchen.
Disgusted with the entire affair, Nora turned into the back stairway.
She had never mounted those stairs, they were used only by the maid, but
just now there seemed no other avenue of escape. She heard the shuffling
feet of Vita as she climbed the bare treads.
They were narrow and dark, only a small window cut in an opening
somewhere allowed enough light to penetrate to make sure the steps were
those of stairs. A narrow landing marked the line where the second floor
must be. Then there was another turn, a sort of sharp twist in the queer
ladder-like climb.
Nora was too far up now to hear Vita's step in the kitchen.
"But this must lead to the attic," she reasoned. "I may as well go on up
as to go--down."
Cobwebs a-plenty here. She jerked back from their tangles, fearing
spiders and other crawling things.
"Oh," she exclaimed. "I do wish I had not come this way. It's
so--spooky!"
At every step the darkness increased and the light dwindled. Reaching a
good-sized platform, Nora stood, thankful to draw an easy breath. She
could just about see that she had only one short flight of steps to go
to reach a door.
"I would never have believed this house was so high," she pondered. "I
feel as if I came up from a cellar to a tower."
Then, resolutely, the pilgrim started on again. Only a few steps and she
found herself face to face with two doors. They were unpainted and each
stood at angles from the landing.
"Which?" she asked instinctively; for, while she wanted to reach the
attic, she was careful to remember which way she had come in this
crooked, gloomy place. Besides this, the attic was a mysterious part of
that pretty house, Nora realized.
"It must be all right to go in here--all of the rooms are ours and
Cousin Ted said they were all kept clean."
With this caution she pushed open one of the unpainted doors and stepped
inside.
She gasped! The place was in almost total darkness!