SMALL CLOUDS
It proved an ideal Christmas day. Clear and cold and spotlessly white,
for the snow fell heavily all through the night, and covered everything
with a mantle of glistening frost.
Nan looked out of her window, and gave a gasp of delight as she saw the
shimmering, rime-covered trees, with the sunshine striking full upon
them and bringing out sparks of light from every branch and twig.
Whatever sounds there were in the streets came to her softened and
mellowed over the snow-laden ground, and as she listened she felt a
great wave of inward happiness surge into her heart and make the
possibilities of life seem very different to her from anything she had
ever dreamed of before. The snow, the sound of chiming Christmas
bells, worked upon her, and made her feel that it would be easy to be
good, and that her days ought all to be like this; that she would make
them so, serene and melodious, every one a festival.
She heard Miss Blake stirring in the next room, and tore herself away
from her dreams to begin the day well with a prompt appearance at the
breakfast table.
"It seems to me that if father were only here I wouldn't have a thing
left in the world to wish for," she said happily, spearing a gold-brown
scallop with her fork and eating it with relish.
Miss Blake put down her coffee-cup just as she was carrying it to her
lips, and her face wore the curious expression that Nan had so often
noticed there and could never account for. But the girl was too busy
with her own thoughts to regard it to-day, and the governess hastened
to respond:
"Then next year, please God, you will be quite entirely happy. And a
year is not long to wait."
"No, indeed!" broke in Nan. "Why, I never knew the time to go as
quickly as it does lately. It doesn't seem any while at all since you
came, and you've been here over two months. Just let's think what
we'll do next Christmas, when father is home. To begin with, I'm going
down to the dock with Mr. Turner, so that when the ship comes in he'll
see me the first thing. Then we'll come up here, and you and Delia
will be waiting to welcome him at the door, and there'll be decorations
and things and--"
"You forget, dear Nan," Miss Blake said, gently interrupting her, "that
I shall not be here then."
The girl's face fell and the light died out of her eyes. Then she
brightened again suddenly.
"Oh, you must, you must! Why, my father will want to see you. Of
course you'll be here. You'll have to stay and meet him. You can
surely do as much as that. You don't know how dear my father is! And
so handsome and good! Why, if you once saw him you couldn't possibly
be afraid. He's simply the kindest man in the world, and when he
smiles at you, you just love him--you can't help it."
Miss Blake herself smiled faintly. "I am sure he is all you say, Nan,"
she replied. "But listen! There go the first bells. We must hurry or
we shall be late for church."
The girl rose and made her way rather slowly to the stairs. Somehow
she felt less light-hearted than she had done a few minutes before.
What was it? She could not understand. The world had seemed all joy
and sunshine to her a quarter of an hour since, and now there was a
cloud over her heart that dimmed for her even the radiant prospect of
her father's return.
"I feel just like sitting down and having a good cry--if I ever did
such a thing," she said to herself as she fastened on her new hat and
tried to be glad that it was so becoming.
But as she and Miss Blake walked along the streets in the midst of a
crowd of happy, chatting church-goers her spirits rose, and she nodded
gayly to the Buckstone girls and Harley Morris, and broke into quite a
ripple of laughter as John Gardiner overtook them and asked if the
wheel he had brought her the night before had proved a good one.
"Oh, it was immense!" answered Nan, merrily.
The services were beautiful, and Nan entered into them heart and soul,
listening to the sermon with rapt attention and letting her fresh young
voice swell out jubilantly in the dear, familiar carols as she had
never done before.
As they went out of church Miss Blake said to her softly:
"You won't mind going on without me, will you, Nan? I have a little
errand to do before I go home. Tell Delia I'll be back in time for
dinner."
[Illustration: "I have a little errand to do"]
"But why can't I go with you?" demanded the girl.
"Because it--it wouldn't be best. I will explain it to you later. Now
I must go. Tell Delia what I said. But if I should happen to be
delayed don't wait, and don't--that is, tell Delia not to worry.
Good-bye!" and she was around the corner before Nan could say another
word.
Ruth Andrews joined her and they walked along together, falling at once
into the easy terms of familiarity that had sprung up between them the
night before.
"O Nan!" began Ruth abruptly, "you aren't going to be such a goose as
to back out of joining the skating club just because--well, because
Mary Brewster's such a prig? She isn't the whole membership, not by a
good deal, and the rest of us count on your coming. Why, you'll be a
tremendous acquisition. And the first meet is to-morrow. Won't you
come?"
Nan hesitated. "It isn't because I'm a goose," she said at length.
"That is, I mean--oh, I can't explain it, but really, Ruth, I'd rather
not join. I wouldn't have a good time myself, and I'd only be spoiling
Mary Brewster's pleasure. It's no use. I know she's not the whole
club, and I really think the rest of you would like to have me, but
somehow, knowing she didn't want me, would spoil the whole thing and
I'd just be miserable the entire time."
Ruth shook her head as if at the hopeless state of Nan's obstinacy, but
she broke in again immediately with a new suggestion:
"Besides, I don't think you can be at all sure she feels that way now.
Why, I myself heard her telling you and Miss Blake that she hoped you
and she would know each other better after this."
"Well, so we do," said Nan, whimsically. "I know now for a certainty
that she doesn't want me, and she knows that I won't go where I'm not
wanted, and if that isn't getting acquainted with a vengeance I'd like
to know what is."
Ruth laughed ruefully, but broke in, with sudden inspiration: "O dear!
You're as proud as a peacock, Nan Cutler. Louie will be dreadfully
disappointed, for she told me to tell you she counted on you to take
her out. She's never skated much, you know, and she's wobbly on her
ankles. She's afraid of the teachers, and she doesn't like to ask the
boys, because they hate to have a girl hanging on to them, and the rest
of us have as much as we can do to attend to our own affairs."
Nan's face lit up with quick pleasure. "Oh, if Louie needs me I'll
come in a jiffy. If you see her, won't you tell her I'll be only too
happy to teach her everything I know?"
"Then we'll call for you at ten sharp to-morrow morning," announced the
wily Ruth, and before Nan could change her mind she had slipped off and
left her standing with her word given at her steps.
"Where's Miss Blake?" asked Delia, opening the door in answer to Nan's
ring and seeing her alone.
"Gone off somewhere on an errand or something. I don't know. She said
she'd be home for dinner, but if she wasn't, not to worry and not to
wait."
Delia wrung her hands. "O Nan, child, why did you let her away from
you? She's gone to the Duffys; I know she has. And they've scarlet
fever in the house. The milkman told me so this morning at mass.
She's been going there for weeks, doing for them and carrying them
money and things. The youngest of the children had been sick all the
week, and now she's down with the fever. If I'd only thought to tell
her this morning! But my head was so full of the breakfast and
clearing up a bit after last night that I forgot. Oh, why did you let
her away from you?"
"How could I know?" cried Nan, almost savagely. "I never knew she went
to such places! What has she got to do with the Duffys, anyhow? Why
hasn't somebody stopped her from going, I should like to know? She's
no business to run such risks. The first thing you know she'll catch
the fever, and then--and then--"
She turned her back on Delia, and the next moment was flying upstairs
two steps at a time.
"What are you going to do, Nan?" cried the woman.
"Go after her and bring her home!" shouted the girl.
But Delia barred the way when she tried to come down again. "You can't
do that, Nan," she protested. "It would only make things worse. Just
wait, and see if she comes home to dinner."
"No; I want to go now!" persisted the girl.
"But don't you see it would only worry her?" insisted Delia.
Nan considered. "Well, I'll wait till dinner," she admitted; "but if
she isn't here by then I'll start."
She sat down by the parlor window and commenced to watch. It seemed to
her that every one in town came into sight but the one she was looking
for with such curious anxiety. Suddenly her heart gave a great leap.
She flew to the front door and flung it wide.
"She's come! She's come!" she shouted to Delia, exultantly.
"Nan, Nan!" cried Miss Blake, hearing the joyous ring in her voice and
seeing the glad light in her eyes. "What is the matter? Has anything
happened? Has--has any one come?" As she spoke her lips grew white.
"Yes! You're the matter! You've happened! You've come! I tell you
I'm glad! And don't you ever go to those Duffys again, where there's
scarlet fever, and you can die of it!"
Miss Blake sank upon the hall-chair and held her hand to her heart.
"Why, what's the matter?" gasped Nan, frightened at the sight of her
white face.
"Nothing, dear, nothing! I was startled--that was all."
"But who startled you?" persisted the girl.
"Not you. It is all over now."
"You see," Nan hastened to explain, "the milkman told Delia there was
scarlet fever at the Duffys, and we thought you had gone there, and it
scared us to death."
"But I told you to tell Delia not to worry."
"Much good telling would do! Besides, you didn't tell me not to worry.
Of course, she'd worry anyhow and so would I. But is it true? Have
the Duffys got scarlet fever?"
Miss Blake hesitated. Then she said, truthfully, "Yes, they have, Nan.
Little Mary Ellen has it. But you need not be afraid. I would not
come back into this house without taking every precaution."
Nan cast on her an indignant look. "And you think that's what made us
worry?" she asked, and turned on her heel and tramped upstairs in high
displeasure. But she had scarcely got as far as the landing when she
felt a hand upon her arm.
"Nan, forgive me. I didn't think so--really. I know you had my safety
in mind. But I have been very careful all along. And now I have a
good nurse for the child, and I think she will pull through."
"But promise me you won't go there any more," demanded Nan, sternly,
only half mollified.
"I promise gladly. They don't need me now, and it would be wicked to
take an unnecessary risk."
"Well, I should think so. Now, remember, you've promised. O Delia!
Is dinner ready?"
All through the meal Miss Blake was aware of Nan's eyes fixed upon her
in a peculiarly scrutinizing gaze. She was puzzled, but asked no
questions, sure that, sooner or later, the girl would disclose the
reason herself. At length it came.
"Does your head ache, Miss Blake?"
"No, dear; why?"
"Because your cheeks are pretty red, and I thought you might not be
feeling very well."
"Probably the brisk wind has made them so, for I feel very well indeed."
"Oh!"
But at twilight Miss Blake came upon her bending double over a volume
of the Encyclopaedia, and a glance showed her what article the girl was
studying. It was that headed "Scarlet fever."
The book was shut with a clap, and Nan stalked off to replace it in the
book-case without a word. She came back in a moment, however, and
stood before Miss Blake like a grim young Fate, her dark eyes full of
care and worry.
"See here! You've got to take something. There's no use fooling with
a sickness like that. Your cheeks are red, and I shouldn't wonder but
your throat is sore. When you came home you kind of went to pieces on
the hall chair, and I guess your head is aching this minute. I don't
say you've got scarlet fever, but--it looks mighty like it, that's all.
Now don't be scared. I'll take care of you. I can, you know, if I put
my mind to it."
Miss Blake dared not hug her, though it was precisely what she longed
to do. She dared not laugh at her, either, for that would give lasting
offense when Nan was so deadly in earnest. What she did was to say
brightly, but in quite as off-hand and matter-of-fact way as the girl
herself had spoken:
"I'm sure you could. But you see I am perfectly well. Honestly, I
haven't a pain nor an ache, and if my cheeks are still red it's because
the skin has been frost-nipped. I give you my word of honor I will go
to a doctor if I feel the slightest symptom."
Her tone was so heartily sincere that Nan could not doubt her. She
drew a long breath of relief, as if a heavy load had been lifted from
her heart, and threw herself upon the lounge with a contented sigh.
"Just think," she said. "Last night this time I didn't even know I was
going to have a party, and now it's all over and done with, and Ruth
and Louie want me to go skating with them to-morrow. It's been the
happiest Christmas I ever spent, with the exception of the Duffy part,
and I wish it could last forever."
"I think some of it will," replied Miss Blake in her gentle voice, as
Delia came to light the lamps.