CHAPTER XX
"THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG!"
In the sunny embrasure of Mrs. White's morning room Trude Romley sortedover the mail that Pepper, the butler, had brought in. So gay andcolorful was the room itself with its cretonnes, its soft tinted walls,its singing birds, in wicker cages, that it seemed a part of thefragrant garden that crowded close to the French windows. A tinyfountain splashed azure blue water over delicately sculptured nymphs; aflowering vine trailed around the windows.
The mail arranged, Trude sat back in the cushions of a great wickerchair and with a long breath of delight enjoyed the beauty around her.Each day Edgeacres enraptured her anew and roused in her a wonder as towhy it should be her lot to be there. "It ought to be Vick or Issy,"she would apologize to the nodding flowers or to Mitie, the yellowwarbler.
And as might be expected Trude had found innumerable ways of makingherself useful to Mrs. White as an expression of her gratitude. Therewere telephone calls she could answer, letters she could write,shopping she could do, ordering, she even conferred with old Pepper andJonathan, the gardener. She drove with Mrs. White in the afternoon andserved tea to the callers who flocked to the house from the nearbysummer hotels.
"I do not know how I ever got along without you, my dear," Mrs. Whitehad said more than once. "What do you do to make yourself soinvaluable? It seems as though just to look at you one leans on you!Even Pepper is saying 'Miss Trude thinks this and Miss Trude thinksthat--'"
Her benevolent interest in her husband's wards, a certain pride insaying to her friends: "My husband, you know, is looking after thedaughters of Joseph Romley, who was a college friend of his," had growninto a real fondness for Trude. "I have never appreciated the dear girlwhen she's been with us before," she declared to her husband. "Isuppose it was because we were in town, then, and I was too busy to getacquainted with her. Why, she's really pretty. And she makes such aslave of herself to her sisters! She hasn't any life of her own. Idon't believe they appreciate it, either. It's a shame she doesn'tmarry some nice young man--" Mrs. White's kind always found virtue'sreward in the proverbial "nice young man."
Mr. White agreed with her on every point but this. "If she desertedthat household it would fall! She's the only one that isn't like herfather."
"Then she must find someone who'll take the family with her," Mrs.White asserted determinedly. But having no godmother's fairy wand shehad not been able, during the summer weeks, to bring the prince toEdgeacres; her husband's acquaintances were too bald and round to playthe part of princes.
Trude had not minded the dearth of young men. Since her unhappyexperience on a former visit she was glad of that dearth. The serenityof the summer, the relaxation and rest from responsibilities hadbrought a lovely freshness to her face, a brightness to her eyes thatwas not all a reflection of the brightness about her. The sheer luxuryof loafing, of not having to think out petty problems or worry onesingle minute was all her old-young heart now asked. Once in awhile, ofcourse, she fretted because Isolde was not enjoying Edgeacres with her,or getting to know how really nice Aunt Edith White was. Where Vick andSidney were concerned she had no remorse for Vick was seeing new lands,doubtless conquering them, and Sidney was happy at Cape Cod; but shecould not help thinking that Issy must be working too hard at theDeerings--getting up early in the morning and typing all through thehot day and doubtless fussing over the housework and the small babiesas well.
Trude thought of the mail. Again there had been no letter from eitherIssy or Sidney! Sidney really _ought_ to write. Perhaps it _had_ notbeen wise to let her go off alone with relatives of whom they knewnothing!
Suddenly a postmark on one of the letters on the little table at herelbow caught her eye. Provincetown. Trude caught it up apprehensively.That letter might be from their Cousin Achsa! She turned it over andover, wishing she might open it.
"Good morning, my dear! I get up with the birds myself and find thatyou're up before me!"
Trude laughed, to cover her anxiety. "I told Jonathan I'd inspect hisnew beds this morning."
"There, didn't I say you were supplanting me in Jonathan's esteem? Buthe only wants you to admire them and smile at him. He knows you knownothing about gardens, even though you are a very wise young woman! Ah,the mail--is there anything there worth looking at before breakfast?"
"Two cards, three advertising envelopes and--and two personal letters."Trude held out the two letters, her heart beating in her throat.
Mrs. White glanced at them indifferently. She turned one as though totear open the envelope, then stopped to play with Mitie. Next she gaveher attention to Pepper who appeared in the door to summon her tobreakfast. And all the time Trude's eyes were beseeching her to openthem--to open _one_ of them quickly.
Trude followed her into the breakfast room and sat down across fromher. After she had eaten her fruit Mrs. White took up the envelope thatwas postmarked Provincetown and studied it while Trude waited.
"Why, that's from Laura Craig--a cousin of mine. I remember now shesaid she was going to study in a summer school on Cape Cod. I hope thegirl's getting on. She's dependent upon her own labor." As she spokeshe spread out the sheet. A sketch dropped to the table.
Trude drew a long breath. She had not known how worried she was. Shewanted to laugh aloud now from sheer relief. Because she had to dosomething she took up the sketch with a murmured: "May I?"
"Laura writes it's a little sketch she made in class. 'This will showyou I am improving. It's from life. It will give you an idea of thedelightful types we find around here, types that you will not findanywhere else. These are two little vagabonds whom you see almostanytime on the beach or around the wharves--as wild and free andbeautiful as the seagulls--'"
Mrs. White looked up from the letter to take the sketch and exclaimedaloud at Trude's face. It had gone deathly white.
"My _dear_, what is it?"
For a moment Trude could not answer. She was staring at the sketch asthough she could not take her eyes from it.
"Read that again! These are types--you find these girls any time on thewharves--wild--vagabonds! Oh, Aunt Edith that's--_that's_--_Sidney_!"
"Why, it _can't_ be, Trude. You said--"
Trude shook her head. "I can't help what I said. It's Sidney. I--know.The likeness is true--there can't be anyone else who looks like Sidney!But she's barefooted--and--and so--_slovenly_--and--_her hair_! She'scut her beautiful hair!"
Mrs. White took the sketch forcibly from Trude. She frowned over it.One of the girls certainly did look like Sidney as she remembered thechild from their one meeting.
"How do you explain it, Trude?"
Trude sighed heavily. "I can't explain it. There's something wrongsomewhere. And it's my fault, Aunt Edith. I--I consented--we allconsented to let Sidney go off down there just so that we could goahead with our own plans. But we thought--we felt _certain_ that thesecousins were very nice--I--I mean had a lovely home and were rich sothat Sidney might get something out of her visit that she couldn't getat home. It sounds shameful to _say_ it."
"I understand, my dear. But what made you think so?"
"The--the letter this Cousin Achsa wrote. It _was_ a very nice letter!"
"Well, _I_ have always thought you could judge anyone's character andbackground by a letter. There must be something wrong. This girl--"pointing to the sketch, "is positively shocking! At least she would bearound here."
"I remember now something Sidney said--when she was begging us to lether go away. 'I want to be different! I want to go somewhere where Iwon't be Joseph Romley's daughter. I want adventure and to do excitingthings--' Those were her very words! I didn't take them seriously then,but, oh, Aunt Edith, perhaps she meant them more than we guessed!" PoorTrude rose quickly to her feet. "Aunt Edith, I simply _must_ go toProvincetown at once. May I ask Pepper to find out about trains?You'll--you'll understand, won't you? I can't be happy one minute untilI see the child. I feel that it's all my fault."
> Mrs. White was all concern. She summoned Pepper and instructed him tofind out the first train; she sent her maid to Trude's room to pack herclothes. And last she wrote a generous check.
"You may need it, my dear. It is nothing. Don't thank me. I wish Icould do more. Somehow your shoulders seem too young to carry so muchresponsibility!"
So on the selfsame day that Sidney and the others set out upon theiradventure Trude was journeying to Cape Cod. She missed connections atBoston and hired an automobile to take her to Provincetown, in herheart thanking Mrs. White for the check that made this possible. Twoblow-outs delayed her journey so that it was midnight when she reachedher destination. She could scarcely hunt out the Greens and Sidney atthat hour. She took a room at the hotel for the night and sat for awhile at its window straining her eyes out into the darkness. Thehowling of the wind intensified her apprehension; somewhere out in thatstrange blackness that enwrapped her was her little sister. PerhapsSidney needed her that very moment!
Finally she crept into bed and fell into a troubled sleep. She did nothear the running steps that passed under her window or the muffledvoices of excited men.