Miraculously, finances stood the strain. Bert was doing well, and
sometimes made several good commissions together--not as large as the
famous commission, but still important. Neither he nor Nancy kept
accounts any more, bills were paid as they came in, and money was put
into the bank as it came in. Nancy had a check book, but she rarely
used it. Sometimes, when Mrs. Biggerstaff or Mrs. Underhill asked her
to join a Girls' Home Society or demanded a prize for the Charity
Bridge, Nancy liked to show herself ready to help, but for other
purposes she needed no money. She ordered all household goods by
telephone, signed "chits" at the club, kept her bridge winnings loose
in a small enamelled box, ready for losing, and, when she went into
town, charged on her accounts right and left, and met Bert for
luncheon. So that, when they really had their first serious talk about
money, Nancy was able to say with a quite plausible air of innocence,
"Well, Bert, I haven't asked you for one cent since the day I needed
mileage. I don't WASTE money! I never DID."
"Well, we've got it!" Bert said uncomfortably, on the day of this talk.
He had vaguely hoped, as the month went by, that it was going to show
him well ahead financially. However, if things "broke even," he might
well congratulate himself. Certainly they were having a glorious time,
there was no denying that.
"Do you recognize us, Bert?" Nancy sometimes asked him exultingly, as
she tucked herself joyously into somebody's big tonneau, or snatched
open a bureau drawer to find fresh prettiness for some unexpected
outing. "Do you remember our wanting to join the Silver River Country
Club! That little club!"
"Gosh, it's queer!" Bert would agree, grinning. And late in the second
summer he said, "If I put the Buller deal over, I think I'll get a car!"
"Well, honestly, I think we ought to have a car," Nancy said seriously,
after a flashing look of delight, "It isn't an extravagance at all,
Bert, if you really figure it out. The man does errands for you, saves
you I don't know how much cab fare, takes care of the place, and Mary
Ingram's man has a garbage incinerator--and saves that expense! Then,
it's one of the things you truly ought to have, down here. You have
friends down Saturday, you play golf, you play bridge after
dinner--well and good. Sunday morning we swim, and come home to lunch,
and then what? You can't ask other friends in to lunch and then propose
that they take us in their cars down the island somewhere? And yet
that's what they do; and I assure you it embarrasses me, over and over
again."
"Oh, we'll have to have a car--I'm glad you see it," said Bert.
The Buller deal being duly completed, they got their car. The
picturesque garage was no longer useless. A silent, wizened little
Frenchman and his wife took possession of the big room over the
kitchen, Pierre to manage the garden and the car, Pauline to cook--she
was a marvellous cook. Nancy kept Agnes, and got a little maid besides,
who was to make herself generally useful in dining room and bedrooms.
The new arrangement worked like a charm. There was no woman in the
Gardens who did not envy the Bradleys their cook, and Nancy felt the
possession of Pauline a real feather in her cap. Pauline exulted in
emergencies, and Nancy and Bert experienced a fearful delight when they
put her to the test, and sat bewildered at their own table, while the
dainty courses followed one another from some mysterious source to
which Pauline alone held the clue.
The children were somewhat in the background now, but they seemed well
cared for, and contented enough when they made their occasional
appearances before their mother's friends. There was a fine private
school in the Gardens, and although the fees for the two boys, with
music lessons twice weekly, came to thirty dollars a month, Nancy paid
it without self-reproach. The alternative was to send them into the
village public school, which was attended by not one single child from
the Gardens. The Ingram boys went away to boarding school at Pomfret,
Dorothy Rose boarded in New York, and the Underbill boys had a tutor,
who also had charge of one or two other boys preparing for college
preparatory schools. While the boys were away Anne drifted about with
her mother, or more often with Agnes, or was allowed to go to play with
Cynthia Biggerstaff or Harriett Fielding.