One-sided Confidences
NELL had quite an ovation of welcome when she reached Bratley on
Saturday evening. Stout Mrs. Nichols was at the depot to welcome her
guest. Mrs. Sam Peters was there also, one baby in her arms, another
toddler clinging to her skirt, and two other small folk in the
background. The baggage-clerk received her with his melancholy smile and
the flourish of his cap usually reserved for railway inspectors and
other official personages.
“Why, it is just like coming home!” exclaimed Nell, ecstatically, as she
kissed all the Peters children, and tried not to notice how far from
clean their faces were.
“That is just how we want you to feel,” replied Mrs. Nichols, who was
wheezing and puffing more than ever from excitement and delight, as she
prepared to carry her visitor off in triumph.
“I must go and speak to Gertrude first,” Nell said, breaking away from
the others and making her way into the office.
Gertrude was hard at work, and could only look up, nod, and leave her
welcome until later, when she had a moment’s breathing space.
Nell sat down to wait patiently enough; then saw what she had not
noticed previously—a bundle in a rug lying on a bench behind the door,
which a closer inspection revealed to be Sonny Russell, curled up, fast
asleep and rosy.
“What a dear little fellow he is!” she exclaimed, when presently
Gertrude turned to give her a warm welcome.
“Oh, Sonny is a darling! His father generally brings him here to stay
with me when he is called away on a long journey, because the child
frets if he is left too much with old Miss Gibson. They board with her,
you know,” explained Gertrude.
“How are Teddy and the baby, and Flossie and Patsey?” asked Nell, whose
heart still yearned for the big family for whom she had toiled so
unweariedly.
Gertrude’s face grew overcast. “The children are well enough; even
Flossie seems better this spring. Father is not well—he does not get
strong nor does he lose his cough, and mother seems poorly too; neither
of them is able to get over the shock of losing the boys. It is very sad
for them.”
“What a pity they did not let you stay at home to comfort them!” cried
Nell, warmly.
“I thought so at first, and was very loth to leave home, but I am very
glad now that I came,” Gertrude said softly, while a rosy flush spread
over her face and right up to the roots of her hair.
Nell looked at her in a little surprise. Gertrude was usually so pale
and calm of aspect. But there was no time then for discovering the
secret of her agitation.
The evening was so pleasant, and the Sunday which followed pleasanter
still. There were one or two changes in Bratley, even in the six weeks
since Nell had gone away. It seemed funny to her to see Dr. Russell
walking along to meeting with little old Miss Gibson, who had never had
any one to board before, although her house was one of the largest in
Bratley. Then a family had gone away, another family having come in
their place, and actually a new house was to be built at the end of the
village.
“It looks as if we were going to be prosperous in Bratley,” Gertrude
said merrily, as, when meeting was over, she and Nell sauntered away
together.
“The population is increasing, certainly,” the other answered, with a
laugh.
“That is what I tell Dr. Russell, and I am quite sure he will do well in
time,” Gertrude said, the flush coming into her cheeks again.
“It is a pity he hasn’t got another trade to work at while he is waiting
for folks to get sick,” Nell replied, in practical fashion.
Gertrude laughed. “You mustn’t call doctoring a trade; it is a
profession, and a man who is a good doctor has no time to be anything
else. Nell, shall I tell you a secret?”
“If you like,” the other answered soberly, stealing a look at the
glowing face of her companion, and guessing what the secret was about.
Gertrude turned her head away, flicking at the grass with her black
parasol. Then she said, in a low unsteady tone—
“I believe that Dr. Russell is going to like me very much some day.”
“So he ought to do,” replied Nell, promptly. “Every one always likes
you.”
Gertrude shrugged her shoulders impatiently. “I couldn’t help it because
George Miller, our hired man, was always wanting to give me things and
take me on walks. I never encouraged him in any way, yet mother was
always grumbling at me about it, and saying she did not want me to make
a poor marriage, just as if she thought I should be likely to do such a
thing.”
“Dr. Russell isn’t rich,” commented Nell.
“Of course not. Indeed, I suppose he is really poorer than George Miller
at the present time; but it is the future that counts, and I’m quite
willing to wait for my future, only——”
“Only what?” asked Nell, rather brusquely. Confidences of this
description were apt to make her curt of speech, for, with her own
reserve concerning all things which touched her closely, she could not
understand the desire of some people to talk about the affairs of the
heart.
“Oh, I should like to be sure, that is all. Guesswork is very well in
its way, but it is not exactly satisfying. I wish he would say to me in
plain speech, ‘Gertrude Lorimer, I’d rather have you to share my life
than any one else, but I’m too poor to marry for a long time. Are you
willing to wait?’ Then I should know what I had to look forward to.”
“We can’t have all we want in this world, I suppose, or else I should be
able to get a good education,” Nell answered, with a sigh.
“Education is always what you are sighing for,” Gertrude said, rather
disappointed because Nell did not seem more interested in her
love-affair.
“That is because I want it so badly. A good education seems to be the
foundation of everything, and when one knows little more than how to
read and write, one is handicapped in every way. However, I’ve made up
my mind what I’m going to do.”
“What is that?” asked Gertrude.
“I’m going to save a hundred dollars somehow, and then I’m going to
spend it on educating myself,” Nell replied, with a vigorous shake of
her head, as if to imply that her plans were all made.
“But how will you set about it? The proper way to get an education is to
work up through the schools, win scholarships, and go to college; then
of course it isn’t so expensive, but any other way would cost a fearful
lot of money.”
Nell drew a long breath, and looked rather daunted for a moment; then
she said brightly—
“I’ll tell you what I mean to do, when I get my dollars saved. I’m going
to find out some learned person, and offer to do her housework in return
for teaching. Then I shall reap a double benefit, for no two people have
their housework done the same way; so I shall find out fresh ways of
doing things, and get my education as well.”
“You would certainly get cheated,” objected Gertrude. “The person would
be sure to get all her housework properly done, but you would not get
your share of education.”
“Then I should not stay,” replied Nell, stoutly. “I may be ignorant, but
I generally know when I am being cheated.”
“Don’t get in such a state of agitation; you have not won the hundred
dollars yet, you know,” laughed Gertrude. Then Nell laughed also; and
they rambled on through the sweet spring sunshine, chattering of the
present, making plans for the future, and thoroughly enjoying the brief
resting spell in their hard-working lives.
The day went all too quickly, as such days are apt to do; then came
Monday morning, and Nell went back to Camp’s Gulch to take up her lonely
life again, and zealously hoard the dollars which were to buy her a
store of book-learning later.
It was a huge relief to feel that she had restored the thirty dollars
and the portrait to their rightful owner, only for some weeks she had an
unrestful feeling, from fear of encountering the man whom old Joey had
identified for her.
About a month after her visit to Bratley, Joey Trip, who had as usual
spent his evening leisure at the Settlement, returned in a state of
great excitement, brimming over with news.
Mr. Brunsen had sold his copper interest to a syndicate for five
thousand dollars, and then had promptly disappeared, before the unhappy
syndicate had had time to find out that they had been most deliberately
hoaxed, and that the seam, which had looked so rich and thick, was
nothing but cleverly doctored shale, the copper ore having apparently
worn itself out. Of course it might recur again farther in, but that had
to be found out.
Meanwhile the syndicate were about the maddest lot of men in the
district, and vowed all sorts of vengeance on Brunsen and his
companions, if only they could be caught.
Nothing was heard of them, however. The weeks of summer sped on. June,
July, and then August wore away, until at last September came in with
fervid but shortening days, and Nell began to realize that it was almost
a year since she had left the Lone House on Blue Bird Ridge, and set out
to try her fortune in the great world.
She cherished no resentment against her grandfather for deserting her;
indeed she felt rather under an obligation to him for having gone away
and left her free to follow her own bent. He had given her good advice,
too, in telling her to get over the border, and she was always thankful
for the train of circumstances which had led her from one sort of work
to another, until at last she had reached a fairly permanent position.
The summer had been so crowded with work, that books had been perforce
relegated to the background. Joey Trip had a large garden spread out
alongside of the railway track, in which he cultivated a great
assortment of useful vegetables, and many bright but common flowers. But
the crops would have been terribly weed-choked that summer had it not
been for Nell’s unceasing energy in weeding. Early and late she plied
her industrious hoe, for fortunately the garden was within easy hearing
distance of the sounder.
The old people were very kind to her, and she in return was glad to do
what she could for them. Besides, the outdoor work had a fascination for
her, and despite her personal ambitions, it was impossible for her to
sit in her hot little office engrossed in books, whilst the sun and wind
were calling to her to come out and rejoice in the beauty of the summer
world, and the weeds were growing so fast that the crops must suffer if
they were not pulled out.
Arithmetic was her great stumbling-block on the road to knowledge. She
could reckon things quickly in her head, but when it came to setting a
sum out on paper, and working it by this rule and that, to bring it to a
proper result, she was hopelessly confused. Geography was so fascinating
that she had to look upon it as a play task, the study being altogether
too delightful to be regarded as work. It was much the same with
history, which in her own mind she classed with fiction, and she
sandwiched it in between graver studies. Grammar proved almost as
puzzling as arithmetic, but she struggled on, determined to write and
speak as correctly as possible, and in this she was much more successful
than any one might have deemed possible, considering the environment of
her daily life.
But now it was September, garden work would soon be over, and the long
dark evenings would give her the leisure she needed, to help her on
towards the goal of her strivings.
So she watched the fading of the great beds of golden-rod without
regret, although it had been one of the joys of the summer to her to
admire the patches of living gold which adorned the open spaces of the
valleys. The blue jays cried with shrill notes to each other as they
flew in and out of the yellowing trees, and the plaintive chickadee
cheeped mournfully through the quiet autumn days. But there was such a
joy of living and of striving in Nell’s heart, that the chickadee only
soothed instead of inspiring her with melancholy.
She had been down to Bratley but once since June, and now Mrs. Nichols
was away, visiting some friends of earlier days on the American side,
and Gertrude was sent to board meanwhile with little old Miss Gibson,
whose house was large enough to admit of her taking Gertrude as well as
Dr. Russell and his little son.
Miss Gibson had sent more than once asking Nell to come, but she would
not go, having an instinctive feeling that Gertrude had no room in her
heart for a girl friend just now.
“If ever she needs me, I’ll go to her quick enough, but I would rather
not be regarded as a nuisance, so I will stay away until I am wanted,”
Nell told herself, with quiet determination; for she had the rare
faculty of being able to stand aside, to efface herself if the occasion
required it, for the good of her friends, and although this entailed
upon her many hours of loneliness, it did not fail to bring its own
reward, all in good time—But that is anticipating.
Sometimes she had a long letter from Flossie Lorimer, detailing the
doings of Teddy and the baby; also of Patsey, who meant to be a civil
engineer when he grew up, and to invent as many things as Edison had
done.
Nell read and re-read those letters from Flossie, sometimes she even
cried over them, but that was on the rare occasions when she was low
spirited and melancholy. It had been a keen disappointment to her that
she had not been asked to spend her holiday at Lorimer’s Clearing.
Because no invitation had come, she had taken no vacation, for a holiday
is of little use to those who have no home in which to spend it.
Gertrude had not gone home either that summer, for she was anxious to
save as much money as possible, to make up for the months in which she
had been obliged to employ a deputy.
On the day before Nell’s birthday she had a letter from Flossie, which
disturbed her a good deal.
“I wish you were here now” (the child wrote), “for you used to
take all our burdens on your back, and I always felt so safe
because you were so strong. But now mother is poorly most days,
though she won’t let me tell father, and she says we can’t have
the doctor for her because of the big bill we owe Dr. Shaw.
Sometimes mother gets so short of breath that I’m afraid it will
stop altogether, but she is dreadfully angry if I look
frightened. Father has had a bad cough all summer, and he
couldn’t work at all well in harvest. Mother does not know I’m
writing this letter, but Patsey does, and he is going to pay the
postage because I haven’t got any money of my own now. I wish
you would come and stay with us again, dear Nell, and so does
Patsey; he says he wishes you were our sister as well as
Gertrude. Your loving FLOSSIE.”
“Dare I write and ask if I may go to them for a fortnight?” Nell asked
herself, as she pondered the letter in her mind. Once she thought of
telling Gertrude over the wires that Mrs. Lorimer was not well, and was
only deterred by the fear that poor Flossie might be found out and
punished, for having ventured to let out the secret of her mother’s
indisposition.
“I will wait until the day after to-morrow, and then if I feel the same
about it, I will ask Mrs. Lorimer if I may come for two weeks; I will
even offer to pay for my board. She will be less likely to refuse me
then,” Nell told herself a little grimly, but never even guessed at the
wild upheaval that was to come into her life before the day after
to-morrow arrived.