CHAPTER XXVIII
A LETTER FROM THE MASTER
Four days had passed since Nancy had written her confession and sent itoff to Peter Hyde. They had seemed endless, too, in spite of all thestrange changes at Happy House. Aunt Sabrina and Aunt Milly werepathetically and helplessly busy over the new member of the family, andhis coming had necessitated momentous reforms in the habits of thehousehold and long arguments as to the proper care of infants. B'lindyhad finally found somewhere in the back of a "Household Helper" achapter on the "Care of the Child," and went about all day with afinger between its pages and a superior look on her face.
Nancy had spent one entire afternoon at the Hopworth's. Nonie and Davyhad come for her and had dragged her back with them to see their "Dad."
"Ask him to tell you 'bout----" and Davy had breathlessly, rattled offa dozen or more of the war tales that he had liked best.
Nancy had thought, that afternoon, that, somehow or other, the Hopworthkitchen had changed since that first day she had visited it. It wascleaner, homier; there was less litter, the air was not so heavy withthe stale odors of cooking. Old Dan'l sat near the open door smokingthe pipe Eric had brought him, his eyes following Eric's everymovement. Liz, fussing about over household tasks, was less dominant,less forbidding, and the tired look had gone from her face.
With the children's chatter Eric Hopworth's shyness soon wore off.Nonie had told him of the pleasant days at Happy House with Nancy; hefelt a deep gratitude to these people who had been doing for his two"kiddies" what he should have done. At Davy's coaxing he had repeatedfor Nancy some of the incidents of the war in which he had shared.Davy had proudly exhibited the precious trophies that had come home inhis father's luggage.
"And Dad's going to stay home always and always now," Nonie hadannounced. Then Eric Hopworth explained that he had taken a positionin a big manufacturing plant at Burlington.
"The boss there was my captain. It'll do for a start. After a bit,maybe, I can take the family there, though Pa'll likely want to alwaysstay here in Freedom," he had added with a squaring of the shouldersthat said plainly that the burdens of the household now rested upon him.
Nancy had gone away from the cottage that afternoon with a feeling inher heart that Nonie and Davy would no longer need her. Davy, with hisfirst-hand war stories and trophies and a real hero for a father, fromnow on had an assured standing among the youths of the village, andNonie had some one to love and to love her.
So the little loneliness that this thought created added to Nancy'srestlessness and made the hours seem endless. And it made her, too,haunt the doorway watching for Jonathan and possible letters.
She told herself, sternly, that, of course, it was silly to expectPeter Hyde to write--that was a closed chapter. But she had written along letter to Anne, telling her of the strange things that hadtranspired at Happy House and of the two dear little sisters who wereundoubtedly Anne's relatives. Surely Anne must answer that letter.
Old Jonathan was too simple-hearted to wonder why Nancy ran out eachday to greet him or why she asked, each day, in a manner she tried tomake casual, if "Mr. Judson had anyone to help him yet?" But on thisfourth day, his smile was broad with satisfaction as he proudly placedin her hand a big, flat envelope.
A week before Nancy would have exclaimed--for it was from TheodoreHoffman. Now she turned away in disappointment.
In the excitement of the last few days she had forgotten her play. Sheopened the envelope now with steady fingers. By some intuition sheknew just what she would find inside. There they were--all the sheetsover which she had toiled so long, familiar, yet unfamiliar, theirfreshness gone from handling--tired-looking. Before she opened themaster's letter she gave them a tender little pat, as though she feltvery sorry for them.
The master's letter told her that her play had much merit and a greatdeal of promise, but that it was "young." "You must know more of life,my dear young lady, live close to love and close to sorrow and learnlife's lessons, before you can portray them.... And never lose faithin your work. After failure, try again--and again--and again....Work, work, work, greatness is in effort."
Nancy read the words with a thrill--it was as though he was speaking toher.
Her labor of the last few months should not be in vain; her littleplay, though it had been a failure, had brought her this golden messagefrom the one who had, through the effort he preached, risen to the verytop.
Then the last two paragraphs of the master's letter made her forgeteverything else.
"I have had constantly in my mind that strange child who played anddanced in your garden. She has haunted me. You told me her name wasNonie Hopworth. I have looked up records and have learned that theyoung student who, fifteen years ago, gave such promise of dramaticability, was Ilona Carr and that she married an Eric Hopworth. ThisNonie is without doubt her child.
"Will you ask the child's guardians if they will allow her to come tomy school at Tarrytown for a few years? There she will have the bestschooling and dramatic training that my teachers can give and hertalent will have an opportunity for development and growth. When sheis older she shall choose for herself whether or not she will followthe calling----"
"The fairy godmother has come," declared Nancy, later, bursting in uponthe Hopworth family with her strange news. She had to read and re-readthe letter so that they could understand and Eric Hopworth had to hearall about the afternoon at Happy House when the great Theodore Hoffmanhad called.
At first he had decidedly opposed the plan. Liz had snorted indisapproval. Nonie had stared at first one, then another, with round,bewildered eyes.
"You ought not to throw away such a chance. It's a wonderfulschool--I've visited there. Nonie will have splendid training----"
"I know all about it," Eric Hopworth had broken in, and Nancy suddenlyremembered what the master had told her.
"Tell me about Nonie's mother," she begged.
There was not much to tell--she had come into Eric Hopworth's life andgone out again, in a few years.
"I always had a feelin' I'd cheated her of a lot," Eric Hopworth saidhumbly, turning in his hand the photograph he had brought out from oldDan'l's bureau to show Nancy.
It was a cheap little photograph, taken a few months after they hadbeen married. But the pretty face that smiled out of it was a happyface. Nancy, as she studied it closely, wondered if it had ever beenshadowed by a regret for the dreams she had sacrificed by her marriage.
"Then--don't cheat Nonie now," Nancy answered.
So before she went away it was decided that Nonie should go toTarrytown and while little Nonie was pinching herself to be sure shewas awake and not dreaming, Nancy's and Liz's minds, in true femininefashion, leaped ahead to the question of "clothes." Upon theirperturbed planning came Mrs. Cyrus Eaton, walking into the Hopworthkitchen with the air of one familiar with its threshold.
Too many strange things had happened for Nancy to be amazed at this.And when she saw Mrs. Eaton pat Eric Hopworth's arm as she sat downbeside him, Nancy knew that in the woman's heart, all silly prejudiceshad been swept away by a deep affection for the man who had saved herboy's life.
Mrs. Eaton had to hear all about the master's letter and Nonie'swonderful chance to go to the school at Tarrytown.
"Clothes--land sakes, Liz Hopworth, you've got enough to do withoutfussing over clothes. Let me get the child ready. I always did wantto sew for a girl. Besides, it isn't much for me to do,considering----" she could not finish, but she laid her hand, again, onEric Hopworth's arm.
Nancy realized, more than Liz, how much Mrs. Eaton wanted to have thisopportunity to do something for Nonie, so she answered quickly, beforeanyone could make a protest:
"That will be splendid if you will help out that way, Mrs. Eaton," andshe made her tone very final, as though they must all consider thematter settled.
Nancy left Mrs. Eaton and Liz fussing over the wearing qualities ofvarious fabrics hitherto absolutely unknown to Nonie
and walked slowlyhomeward. It was a sunny, still afternoon, conducive to meditation.And Nancy, in a pensive mood, had much to meditate over.
A moment's whim had brought her to Happy House and how much hadhappened because of her coming. How curiously intermixed everythinghad been; her acquaintance with Judson's hired man had brought her intouch with the great Theodore Hoffman and then he, through her, hadfound Nonie.
Life was so funny--Nancy suddenly remembered a game she had played whenshe was very, very small. She had had a box of queer shaped and manycolored Japanese blocks, that, if placed together in just the rightway, made a beautiful castle upon the highest peak of which she couldplace a shining red ball. But it had been very difficult to build;Nancy had, often, in impatience, thrown the blocks down, but her fatherhad always come, then, to her help and had laughingly coaxed her to tryagain.
Life was like that--if one could successfully fit all the queer edgestogether and build up, piece by piece, one could have the reward of theshining ball at the top. But Nancy, thinking of it now, felt thetugging impatience that she had used to feel toward the pile of coloredblocks.
A few weeks had so changed her own life--she must take up the littlepieces and begin to build again.
At the gate of Happy House she paused, and turning, looked down theroad. In the last few days she had caught herself often looking downthat road and yet she would not admit to herself--she was too proud toadmit it that she was always wishing that she would see Peter Hydecoming. It was very lonesome at Happy House without him.
Suddenly, in a swirl of dust, a motor turned the corner at the smithyand approached toward her at a tremendous speed, its outline barelydistinguishable because of the cloud that enveloped it. No one came upthat road unless they were coming to Happy House.
Then someone, swathed in linen and green, floating veiling, spied Nancyand waved wildly from the tonneau.
Scarcely believing her eyes, Nancy took a step forward. With a swerveand a roar the car came to a stop and from the front seat, throwing offgoggles and cap, sprang Eugene Leavitt.
"Daddy!" cried Nancy, throwing herself into his arms.
"I thought it was Anne, but I couldn't----"
she began, finally withdrawing from his tight clasp to greet theothers. "I just--couldn't believe it."
Anne was standing now beside her, and behind Anne, unwinding yards andyards of dust-covered veiling, laughed Claire.
"Oh, it's too good, good, good to be true," Nancy cried, trying toembrace them both at the same time. "To have you all come--at once.I'm so happy, I just want to cry."
"And, Nancy, at last you're going to meet my brother Barry,"interrupted Claire, her eyes sparkling. "You wouldn't come toMerrycliffe, so you see I had to bring him here."
Nancy was so happy that she could even turn to greet the despised"lion" with a radiant smile. Claire's brother, who, forgotten by theothers in their joyous reunion, had been busying himself with theengine of his car, now turned and removed from a dust-stained face thegoggles that had almost completely hidden it.
"Pe-ter. You----" and Nancy, her face crimson, put her two handsbehind her back.