That night they slept in the garage. With a flash of her old
independence, Nancy so decided it. She was firm in declining the
hospitable offers that would have scattered the Bradleys among the
neighbouring homes for the night.
"No, no--we're all together," Nancy said, smiling. "I don't want to
separate again, for a while." She calmly estimated the salvage--beds
and bedding, some chairs, rugs, and small tables, tumbled heaps of the
children's clothes, and odd lots of china and glass.
Priscilla was presently set to amuse herself, on a rug on the lawn, and
the enraptured children and Agnes and the new puppy bustled joyfully
about among the heterogeneous possessions of the evicted family, under
Nancy's direction. There was much hilarity, as the new settling began,
the boys were miracles of obedience and intelligence, and Anne laughed
some colour into her face for the first time in weeks. Nancy was in her
element, there was much to do, and she was the only person who knew how
it should be done. Even Bert stood amazed at her efficiency, and
accepted her orders admiringly.
In the exquisite summer twilight she sent him to the Biggerstaffs'.
Nobody had yet found sleeping wear for the man of the family, that was
message one. And message two was the grateful acceptance of the fresh
milk that had been offered. Everybody he met wanted to add something to
these modest demands. Bert had not felt himself so surrounded with
affection and sympathy for many years. At seven o'clock he was back at
the garage, heavily laden, but cheerful.
Nancy leaned out of the upper window, where geraniums in boxes bloomed
as they had bloomed when first the Bradleys came to Holly Court and
called out joyfully, "See how nice we are!" The children, laughing and
stumbling over each other, were carrying miscellaneous loads of
clothing and bedding upstairs. Bert picked up two pillows and an odd
bureau drawer full of garments, and followed them. His wife, busy and
smiling, greeted him.
"That's lovely, dear--and that just about finishes us, up here. You see
we've cleared out these two big rooms, and the Ingrams' man came just
in time to set up the beds. This is our room, and Agnes and the girls
will have the other. The boys will have to sleep on the double couch
downstairs, to-morrow they can have a tent on the lawn right back of
us. Bring that drawer here, it goes in this chest. I thought it was
missing, but we'll straighten everything out to-morrow, and see where
we stand. The piano's out there on the lawn, and I wish you'd cover it
with something, unless you get some one after supper to help you move
it in. It goes in the corner where the boys' sleds were, downstairs.
Supper's ready, Bert, if you are!"
"Perhaps you'd like me to dress?" Bert said, deeply amused. Anne and
her brothers laughed uproariously, as they all went down the narrow
stairs.
"No, but do come down and see how nice it is!" his wife said eagerly.
Hanging on his arm, she showed him the comfort downstairs. The big room
that had been large enough to house two cars had been swept, and the
rugs laid over the concrete floor. Through a westerly window crossed by
rose-vines the last light of the long day fell softly upon a small
table set for supper. Priscilla was already in her high chair demanding
food. At the back of the room, on the long table once used for tools
and tubes, Agnes was busy with a coal-oil stove and Nancy's copper
blazer. A heartening aroma of fresh coffee was mingling with other good
odours from that region.