After her sister's death, Miss Drayton went with a cousin for a quiet
summer in the Adirondacks. Before leaving, she had meant to talk to her
brother-in-law about Anne, to tell him of her sister's wish to keep the
child, and to say that she herself would take charge of the little
orphan. But she was so tired! Life seemed very empty and yet she shrank
from any new responsibility. So day after day passed, and she went away
without saying a word about Anne. After all, it would be time enough,
she thought, when the children were brought back to America.
In his great new loneliness, Mr. Patterson's heart turned more than ever
to his son; and he put aside business engagements and went, by the
swiftest boat and the fastest train, to join Pat in Paris and bring him
home.
Father and son met with a formal but hearty handshake.
"Howdy, dad."
"Hello, son. How's your health?"
The French man-servant, looking on at this greeting, shrugged his
shoulders. "My son and I would have given the kiss and the embrace," he
commented to himself. "But they--how very American!"
'Very American' they both were. Mr. Patterson was a slim, alert business
man, with a firm chin cleft in the middle, mouth hidden by a tawny,
drooping mustache, deep-set gray eyes under a broad brow from which the
brown hair was rapidly receding at the temples. Pat had his father's
cleft chin, straight nose, and square forehead; but his mouth curved
like his mother's and like hers were the hazel eyes and curly dark hair.
He was a sturdy, well-set-up young American, who played good football
and excellent baseball and studied fairly well--not that he had any deep
interest in books, for he meant to be a business man like his father,
but his mother wished him to get good reports and a certain
class-standing was necessary to keep from being debarred sports.
Mr. Patterson was glad that Pat liked his school, glad that he did not
like it so well as to regret going home. "After all, there is nothing
like an American school for an American boy," he said.
"And baseball the way we play it at home is the thing," declared Pat.
They made plans for their voyage the next week, and then Mr. Patterson
rose to go, saying he'd be in again, but couldn't tell just when, as
he'd be pretty busy, examining some new motor machinery.
"Have you been to see little sister, father?" inquired Pat.
Mr. Patterson looked at his son without replying. How he had hoped
there would be a little sister--that his home would ring with the music
of young, happy voices! How sad and silent it was now! He pulled himself
together as Pat impatiently repeated the question.
"Father, have you been to see little sister?--Anne Lewis, you know.
Mother said she was to be my little sister--and I must be good to her.
She's a number one little chap. Can throw a ball straight and can reel
off dandy tales that she makes up herself. Don't you think she's
cute-looking?"
"I haven't seen her, son," answered Mr. Patterson. "Fact is, I had
really forgotten that child. I must see about her."
Anne, shy and silent always with strangers, entered the drawing-room
slowly. She put her hand timidly into Mr. Patterson's, then sat down,
very prim and uncomfortable, with her legs dangling from the edge of the
chair and answered his questions in a shy undertone and the fewest
possible words. Mr. Patterson was hardly less embarrassed than she.
After he asked about her health and her studies, and how she liked
school, and if she would be glad to go back to America, and told her
that he had seen Pat and Pat had asked about her, there seemed really
nothing else to say. It was a relief when Mademoiselle Duroc entered the
room and asked if Anne might be excused to practise a marching song.
"I beg ten thousand pardons for the interruption," she said. "But
monsieur understands, I am quite sure. The finals of school approach so
rapidly and we would not have the pupils fail to do credit to the kind
patrons."
"Of course, of course. That's all right," answered Mr. Patterson. "I
wished to talk to you, anyway--about this child--" as Anne accepted the
excuse and gladly departed. "Can you give me a few minutes now? Thank
you.--I cannot say. I suppose the child has improved. I had not seen
her before. She was alone on shipboard and my wife took charge of
her.--Oh, no! there was no formal adoption. I shall take her back to
America, of course. Her people may turn up or--or--I haven't decided
what I'll do about her. I haven't really thought about it. Tell me what
you can about the child, please."
Mademoiselle Duroc answered with careful details. Anne was clever,
fairly studious, well-mannered, amiable, rather quick-tempered. The
session marks had not been made out but they would show her standing
good in most of her studies. Deportment excellent. "Her mark in that
would be almost perfect were it not for the one affair. I refer to the
jewel episode. One has informed monsieur of that?"
Mr. Patterson confessed his ignorance and Mademoiselle Duroc related the
incident which we already know. No light had ever been thrown on the
matter.
"Do you suppose she stole the things?" asked Mr. Patterson, bluntly.
Mademoiselle shrugged her shoulders and thrust the question from her
with a sweeping gesture of both hands. "There has been nothing to
prove--nothing to disprove. Absolutely. I look at that slim, small child
sometimes and raise my hands to heaven in amaze."
Mr. Patterson rose. "Thank you. I have taken a great deal of your time.
You understand it was important for me to know about this child. My wife
wished to adopt her. If she had lived--but without her I should hesitate
under any circumstances; under these, I cannot undertake the
responsibility. I will put the little girl in an orphanage in her native
state. That is the best place for a child that needs oversight
and--er--probably severe discipline. I have engaged passage for the
twelfth. I will send a cab for the child. You will have her ready?
Thank you. If you will mail me your bill to Hotel Amitié, it shall have
prompt attention."
"Thank you, monsieur. If I am not to see you again, you will now take
charge of the small packet, the jewels?"
"No, no, indeed." Mr. Patterson drew back.
"But madame directed me to keep them for the child if there arose no
claimants," said Mademoiselle.
"Then turn them over to the child. You got them from her," said Mr.
Patterson. "I have nothing to do with them. Good-morning."
Awaiting the sailing-date set by Mr. Patterson, Anne lingered some days
after the other pupils. One morning Louise came in to pack her trunk and
to say that Mademoiselle Duroc wished to see her in the small study.
"I sent for you to bid you farewell and to return to you these jewels,"
Mademoiselle said. "It is grief to me that you have been so secret
about the matter and made the distress for your friends."
Anne's eyes filled with tears. It hurt her to remember that she had
refused to answer Mrs. Patterson's questions. How pale and troubled the
dear face had looked! And now she could never, never explain. Could she
ever tell Miss Drayton or Pat? Probably not. What a dreadful thought! "I
am so sorry, Mamzelle," she faltered. "Indeed, it is not my fault. I had
to promise. I was not to tell any one till we went to Nantes. I kept
hoping we would go. Now we never shall. And I do want to tell them."
Here was a clew and Mademoiselle's quick wit followed it. "Is it that
you mean, Anne," she asked, "that some one--a person whose wish had the
right to be regarded--told you that you might explain the matter to your
guardian when you went to Nantes?"
"Yes, Mamzelle, that was it," Anne responded eagerly. "He said I might
tell then."
"He," mused Mademoiselle. "Who, Anne?"
Anne did not answer.
"Where were you when he told you this?"
Anne hesitated, debating with herself whether her uncle would wish her
to tell. Mademoiselle changed the question.
"When he had you to promise that, were you expecting to go to Nantes?"
"Yes, Mamzelle." Anne was sure she might answer this. "And then seeing
Dr. La Farge changed all the plans, you know."
Mademoiselle nodded her head. Yes, she knew. "I begin to understand some
of the affair, Anne," she said, thinking intently and putting her
thoughts into slow English. "I think you have been making the mistake.
This person he wished you to let a certain time lapse before the telling
by you. For some reason. One week or two weeks or three. It was known
to him that you expected to go to Nantes? Ah! so he did tell you to
promise to await that time? So it was!"
"I haven't told you anything I ought not to, have I, Mamzelle?" inquired
Anne, anxiously. "He said if I told--before we reached Nantes, you
know--it would bring him dreadful harm."
"Indeed, no," laughed Mademoiselle Duroc. "You have told me nothing but
that you are the so faithful, so stupid promise-keeper. Take my word for
it, Anne," she continued gravely, "the time has long passed to which the
'he' wished to defer the telling about the jewels. It is due your
friends and you that you make the matter clear. As soon as possible. I
regret that we did not understand. I have much of interest for the
secret. But I see that it is not for me."
Louise tapped at the door and said that Miss Anne's trunk was ready and
the cab was waiting.
Mademoiselle gave Anne a stately salute and put the little package in
her hand. "Ask Mr. Patterson to take charge of this packet for you," she
said. "Good-by, my child. _Bon voyage!_"
Anne followed Louise who straightened her ribbons and tied on her hat.
"Louise," she said, in her halting French, "I've not been very much
trouble to you, have I?"
"Not more than the usual. Young ladies are born to be the
trouble-makers," responded Louise.
"Because I didn't want to. And I should like some one to be sorry I am
going," said Anne. "Here is the silver piece Mr. Patterson gave me. You
take it, Louise. Would you mind--won't you kiss me good-by, Louise, and
can you miss me one little bit?"
"A thousand thanks, little one!" exclaimed Louise. "How droll you are!
I will give you many kisses with all the good will. Yes, and I do grieve
to see you go, you alone little one!"
The return voyage was rough and stormy. Mr. Patterson was half-sick and
wholly miserable all the way. He lay pale and silent in his steamer
chair, trying to rouse himself now and then to talk with Pat about
subjects of schoolboy interest. But it was an effort and Pat felt it so;
after a few restless minutes, he was apt to say:--
"Excuse me, father, I've thought of something I want to tell Anne."
"Please tell me when it's ten o'clock, father; Anne and I are to play
ring-toss."
"Anne has been telling a ripping story. I'll go and hear some more of
it, if you don't mind."
Mr. Patterson did mind. He was, though he did not confess it to himself,
jealous of Anne for whom his son was always so ready and eager to leave
him. He justified to himself his dislike of the child by recalling the
jewel episode.
Anne had not given him even the half-way explanation that Mademoiselle
Duroc had obtained. She was going to tell Miss Drayton--how she longed
to see that good friend and pour forth the story! But Mr. Patterson
asked no questions and it never occurred to her to offer him any
information. She had given him her precious packet and asked him to take
charge of it, according to Mademoiselle's suggestion. He had accepted
the charge reluctantly, as a matter of necessity. As soon as they passed
the custom-house in New York, he sealed the articles in an envelope
which he handed to Anne, saying curtly: "You had these before; take them
again."
Mr. Patterson, Pat, and Anne took the first south-bound train, and a few
hours later found them in Washington. Passing from the noble Union
Station, they took an Avenue car and whirled past Peace Monument,
between the shabby buildings on the right and the Botanical Gardens on
the left. Mr. Patterson sat in frowning silence. A sorry home-coming
this. How eager he had been in former days to reach the old home in
Georgetown, which now was closed and silent. Ah! he must try not to
think about that. He pulled himself together and rang the bell.
"We are going to stop at the Raleigh," he said, in answer to Pat's
surprised look. "Our house is shut up, you know. I'll have you children
sent to your rooms. I must get off some telegrams and attend to some
business. We'll get out of this hot hole to-morrow."
Pat pleaded and was allowed to take Anne for a sight-seeing ride. What a
gay time they had! Everything delighted Anne--the stately Capitol, the
gold-domed Library of Congress, the noble-columned Treasury Building,
the sky-pointing Washington Monument, the broad streets over-arched
with stately trees, the grassy squares and flower-bordered circles
dotted with statues.
"Oh, isn't it beautiful? Isn't it beautiful?" Anne exclaimed over and
over. "I told them America was the best. I told them so. I do wish
Mademoiselle Duroc could see it and Louise and cook Cochon."
Mr. Patterson was waiting for his son in the hotel lobby. "Here, Pat,
come here," he said. "Orton, this is my boy.--Pat, here's a streak of
luck for us. I've just run across this friend of mine who's instructor
at George Washington University. He's taking a party of boys to a camp
in the Virginia mountains--fine boating and swimming, all the fun you
want. Starting to-night. Says he can manage to take another boy. How
would you like to go with him instead of to your Aunt Sarah?"
"Fine!" said Pat, eagerly. "I've always wanted to go camping. Good
fishing, too?"
"Great. You trot along with Mr. Orton, and let him help you get the
things you need. He kindly says he will."
"There's Anne, father," said Pat, looking toward the little figure
hovering shyly on the outskirts of the group. "Is Anne going, too?"
"This is just a boy's camp, Pat," laughed Mr. Orton. "There isn't any
room for girls in our rough-and-tumble gang."
Mr. Patterson summoned a maid to take Anne to her room. "I'm going to
take Anne to Richmond to-morrow," he explained curtly. "I'll try to run
up and see you, Pat, before I get back to work. Time's getting pretty
scarce, though. Run along and get your rig. Draw on me, Orton, for what
you need. Fit him out O.K."