Chapter XXIX. GREAT NEWS FROM SCOTLAND
Nan put two and two together, and the answer came right.
She got out of bed, lit her lamp again and began to dress. She turnedher light down to a dim glimmer, however, for she did not want her auntto look out of the window of her bedroom on the other side of the parlorand catch a glimpse of her light.
In the half darkness Nan made a quick toilet; and then, with herraincoat on and hood over her head, she hesitated with her hand upon theknob of the door.
"If I go through the parlor and out the side door, Aunt Kate will hearme," thought Nan. "That won't do at all."
She looked at the further window. Outside the rain was pattering andthere was absolutely no light. In the pocket of her raincoat Nan hadslipped the electric torch she had brought from home, something of whichAunt Kate cordially approved, and was always begging Uncle Henry to buyone like it.
The pocket lamp showed her the fastenings of the screen. Tom had madeit to slide up out of the way when she wanted to open or close the sash.And, as far as she could see, any one could open it from the outside aseasily as from the room itself.
"And that's just what she did," decided Nan. "How foolish of me not tothink of it before."
With this enigmatical observation Nan prepared to leave the room by thisvery means. She was agile, and the sill of the window was only threefeet from the ground. It was through this opening that she had helpedMargaret Llewellen into her room on the first occasion that odd childhad visited her.
Nan jumped out, let the screen down softly, and hurried across theunfenced yard to the road. She knew well enough when she reached thepublic track, despite the darkness for the mirey clay stuck to her shoesand made the walking difficult.
She flashed her lamp once, to get her bearings, and then set off downthe lane toward the swamp road. There was not a light in any house shepassed, not even in Mr. Fen Llewellen's cottage. "I guess Margaret'sfast asleep," murmured Nan, as she passed swiftly on.
The rain beat down upon the girl steadily, and Nan found it shiveryout here in the dark and storm. However, her reason for coming, Nanconceived, was a very serious one. This was no foolish escapade.
By showing her light now and then she managed to follow the dark lanewithout stepping off into any of the deep puddles which lay beside thepath. She came, finally, to the spot where Rafe had met her and Tom withhis lantern that evening. Here stood the great tree with a big hollow init, Margaret Llewellen's favorite playhouse.
For a moment Nan hesitated. The place looked so dark and there might besomething alive in the hollow.
But she plucked up courage and flashed her lamp into it. The white rayplayed about the floor of the hollow. The other Llewellen children darednot come here, for Margaret punished them if they disturbed anythingbelonging to her.
What Nan was looking for was not in sight. She stepped inside, andraised the torch. The rotting wood had been neatly scooped out, andwhere the aperture grew smaller at the top a wide shelf had been made bythe ingenious Margaret. Nan had never been in this hide-out before.
"It must be here! It must be here!" she kept telling herself, and stoodon her tiptoes to feel along the shelf, which was above her head.
Nan discovered nothing at first. She felt along the entire length of theshelf again. Nothing!
"I know better!" she almost sobbed. "My dear, beautiful."
She jumped up, feeling back on the shelf with her right hand. Herfingers touched something, and it was not the rotting wood of the tree!
"It's there!" breathed the excited girl. She flashed her lamp around,searching for something to stand upon. There in the corner was a roughlymade footstool.
In a moment Nan had the footstool set in position, and had stepped uponit. Her hand darted to the back of the shelf. There was a long box, apasteboard box.
Nan dropped her lamp with a little scream of ecstasy, and of course thelight went out. But she had the long box clasped in her arms. She couldnot wait to get home with it, but tumbled off the stool and sat downupon it, picked up the torch, held it so the round spot-light gave herillumination, and untied the string.
Off came the cover. She peeped within. The pink and white loveliness ofBeulah's wax features peered up at her.
In fifteen minutes Nan was back in her room, without being discovered byanybody, and with the doll safely clasped in her arms. Indeed, she wentto bed a second time that night with her beloved playmate lying on thepillow beside her, just as she had done when a little girl.
"I suppose I'm foolish," she confessed to Aunt Kate the next morningwhen she told her about it. "But I loved Beulah so much when I waslittle that I can't forget her now. If I go to Lakeview Hall I'm goingto take her with me. I don't care what the other girls say!"
"You are faithful in your likes, child," said Aunt Kate nodding. "'Tis agood trait. But I'd like to lay that Marg'ret Llewellen across my knee,for her capers."
"And I didn't think she cared for dolls," murmured Nan.
But it was young Bob who betrayed the mysterious reason for his sister'sact.
"Huh!" he said, with a boy's disgust for such things. "Mag's crazy aboutpretty faces, if they're smooth, an' pink. She peeked into that Sherwoodgal's room and seed her playin' doll; then she had ter have it forherself 'cause it was so pretty and had a smooth face, not like thekids' dolls that Aunt Matildy buyed."
Poor little Margaret was greatly chagrined at the discovery of hersecret. She ran away into the woods whenever she saw Nan coming, for along time thereafter. It took weeks for the girl from Tillbury to regainthe half-wild girl's confidence again.
Nan was just as busy and happy as she could be, considering theuncertain news from Scotland and Uncle Henry's unfortunate affair withGedney Raffer. She helped Aunt Kate with the housework early everymorning so that they might both hurry into the woods to pick berries.
Pine Camp was in the midst of a vast huckleberry country, and at theForks a cannery had been established. Beside, the Forks was a bigshipping centre for the fresh berries.
Uncle Henry bought crates and berry "cups," and sometimes the wholefamily picked all day long in the berry pasture, taking with them a coldluncheon, and eating it picnic fashion.
It was great fun, Nan thought, despite the fact that she often came homeso wearied that her only desire was to drop into bed. But the best partof it, the saving grace of all this toil, was the fact that she wasearning money for herself! Account was faithfully kept of every cup ofberries she picked, and, when Uncle Henry received his check from theproduce merchant to whom he shipped the berries, Nan was paid her share.
These welcome earnings she saved for a particular purpose, and for noselfish one, you may be sure. Little Margaret Llewellen still ran fromher and Nan wished to win the child back; so she schemed to do this.
After all, there was something rather pitiful in the nature of the childwho so disliked any face that was "wizzled," but loved those faces thatwere fair and smooth.
Margaret only possessed a feeling that is quite common to humanity; shebeing such a little savage, she openly expressed an emotion that many ofus have, but try to hide.
The Llewellen children picked berries, of course, as did most of theother neighbors. Pine Camp was almost a "deserted village" during theseason when the sweet, blue fruit hung heavy on the bushes.
Sometimes the Sherwood party, and the Llewellens, would cross eachothers' paths in the woods, or pastures; but little Margaret alwaysshrank into the background. If Nan tried to surprise her, the half wildlittle thing would slip away into the deeper woods like one of its owndenizens.
Near the river one day Margaret had an experience that should havetaught her a lesson, however, regarding wandering alone in the forest.And the adventure should, too, have taught the child not to shrink sofrom an ugly face.
Nan had something very important to tell Margaret. Her savings hadamounted to quite a goodly sum and in the catalog of a mail-orderhouse she had found something of which she wished to secure Ma
rgaret'sopinion. The child, as usual, ran away when they met, and even Bob couldnot bring her back.
"She's as obstinate as dad's old mu-el," grunted the disgusted boy."Can't do a thing with her, Nan Sherwood."
"I'll just get her myself!" declared Nan, laughing, and she started intothe thicker woods to circumvent Margaret. She did not follow the riveras the smaller girl had, but struck into the bush, intending to circlearound and head Margaret off.
She had not pushed her way through the clinging vines and brush for tenminutes before she heard somebody else in the jungle. She thought it wasthe little girl, at first; then she caught sight of a man's hat and knewthat Margaret did not wear a hat at all.
"Goodness! Who can that be?" thought Nan. She was a little nervous aboutapproaching strange people in the wood; although at this season therewas nothing to apprehend from stragglers, there were so many berrypickers within call.
Nan did not seek to overtake the man, however, and would have kept onin her original direction, had she not heard a cry and a splitting crashtoward the river bank. Some accident had happened, and when Nan heardthe scream repeated, she was sure that the voice was that of Margaret.
So she set off directly, on a run, tearing her dress and scratching herhands and face, but paying no attention to either misfortune. She onlywanted to get to the scene of the accident and lend her aid, if it wasneeded.
And it would have been needed if it had not been for the man whose hatshe had seen a few moments before. He made his passage through the bushmuch quicker than could Nan, and when the latter reached an openingwhere she could see the river, the stranger was just leaping into thedeep pool under the high bank.
It was plain to be seen what had happened. A sycamore overhung theriver and somebody had climbed out upon a small branch to reach a fewhalf-ripened grapes growing on a vine that ran up the tree.
The branch had split, drooping downward, and the adventurousgrape-gatherer had been cast into the water.
"Oh, Margaret!" screamed Nan, confident that it was the reckless childthat was in peril.
She hurried to the brink of the low bluff, from which the rescuer hadplunged. He had already seized the child (there was an eddy here underthe bank) and was striking out for the shore. Nan saw his wet face, withthe bedraggled hair clinging about it.
It was the awfully scarred face of Injun Pete; but to the excited Nan,at that moment, it seemed one of the most beautiful faces she had everseen!
The Indian reached the bank, clung to a tough root, and lifted up thegasping Margaret for Nan to reach. The girl took the child and scrambledup the bank again; by the time she was at the top, Injun Pete was besideher.
"She not hurt, Little missy," said the man, in his soft voice, andturning his face so that Nan should not see it. "She just scared."
Margaret would not even cry. She was too plucky for that. When she gother breath she croaked:
"Put me down, Nan Sherwood. I ain't no baby."
"But you're a very wet child," said Nan, laughing, yet on the verge oftears herself. "You might have been drowned, you WOULD have been had itnot been for Mr. Indian Pete."
"Ugh!" whispered Margaret. "I seen him when I come up out o' that nastywater. I wanted to go down again."
"Hush, Margaret!" cried Nan, sternly. "You must thank him."
The man was just then moving away. He shook himself like a dog comingout of the stream, and paid no further attention to his own wetcondition.
"Wait, please!" Nan called after him.
"She all right now," said the Indian.
"But Margaret wants to thank you, don't you, Margaret?"
"Much obleeged," said the little girl, bashfully. "You air all right,you air."
"That all right, that all right," said the man, hurriedly. "No need tothank me."
"Yes, there is," said Nan, insistently. "Come here, please. Margaretwants to kiss you for saving her life."
"Oh!" The word came out of Margaret's lips like an explosion. Nan staredvery sternly at her. "If you don't," she said in a low tone, "I'll tellyour father all about how you came to fall into the river."
Under this threat Margaret became amenable. She puckered up her lipsand stretched her arms out toward Indian Pete. The man stumbled back andfell on his knees beside the two girls. Nan heard the hoarse sob in histhroat as he took little Margaret in his arms.
"Bless you! Bless you!" he murmured, receiving the kiss right upon hisscarred cheek. But Nan saw that Margaret's eyes were tightly closed asshe delivered the caress, per order!
The next moment the man with the scarred face had slipped away anddisappeared in the forest. They saw him no more.
However, just as soon as the catalog house could send it, Margaretreceived a beautiful, pink-cheeked, and flaxen-haired Doll, not as fineas Beulah, but beautiful enough to delight any reasonable child.
Nan had won back Margaret's confidence and affection.
Meanwhile the hot summer was fast passing. Nan heard from her chum, BessHarley, with commendable regularity; and no time did Bess write withoutmany references to Lakeview Hall.
Nan, advised by her former teacher in Tillbury, had brought her books toPine Camp, and had studied faithfully along the lines of the high schoolwork. She was sure she could pass quite as good an entrance examinationfor Lakeview Hall as Bess could.
And at last good news came from Scotland:
"I am not quite ready to bring Momsey home," Papa Sherwood wrote. "Butthe matter of her fortune is at least partially settled. The claims ofthe other relatives have been disallowed. Mr. Andrew Blake is preparedto turn over to your Momsey a part of her wonderful fortune. The restwill come later. She will tell you all about it herself.
"What I wish to say to you particularly in this letter," pursued Mr.Sherwood, "is, that arrangements have been made for you to attendLakeview Hall this coming semester. You will meet your friend, ElizabethHarley, in Chicago, and will go with her to the school. I am writing bythis mail to the principal of the Hall. Mr. Harley has made all othernecessary arrangements for you."
"Oh!" cried Nan, clasping her hands. "It's too good to be true! It can'tbe possible! I just know I'll wake up in a minute and find all this anexciting dream, and that's all!"
But Nan was wrong on that point, as the reader will see if her furtheradventures are followed in the next volume of the series, entitled, "NanSherwood at Lakeview Hall, or, The Mystery of the Haunted Boathouse."
While Nan was still intensely excited over this letter from Scotland,Toby Vanderwiller drove up to the Sherwood house behind his broken-kneedpony. This was the first time any of the Sherwoods had seen him sincethe day of the big storm and the fire in the sawdust.
Chapter XXX. OFF FOR LAKEVIEW HALL
Nan ran out immediately to speak to the old lumberman; but Toby wascalling for Uncle Henry:
"Hey, Hen! Hen Sherwood! Come out yere," he cried.
Uncle Henry halloaed from the stables, and came striding at the call.Nan reached the old rattletrap wagon first.
"Oh, Mr. Vanderwiller!" she said. "I am glad to see you! And how is yourwife and Corson?"
He looked down at her reflectively, and for a moment did not say a word.Then he swallowed something and said, jerkily:
"An' you're the one that done it all, Sissy! The ol' woman an' the boyair as chipper as bluejays. An' they air a honin' for a sight on you."
"Yes. I haven't been over lately. But that man from Chicago came, didn'the?"
"I sh'd say 'yes'! He come," said Toby, in awe. "An' what d'ye s'pose?He done buyed a heap of Corson's spec'mens an' paid him more'n a hundreddollars for 'em. And that ain't countin' that there dead-head butterflyye made sech a time about.
"I reckoned," pursued Toby, "that you was right crazy about that therebug. One bug's as bad as another to my way of thinkin'. But it seemsthat Chicago feller thinked dif'rent."
"It really was one of the very rare death's-head moths?" cried Nan,delighted.
"So he said. And he was willin' ter back up his belief wi
th cold cash,"declared Toby, smiting his leg for emphasis. "He paid us harnsome forit; and he said he'd take a lot more spec'mens if--
"Har! Here ye be, Hen," he added, breaking off to greet Nan's uncle. "Igot suthin' to say to you. I kin say it now, for I ain't beholden ternobody. With what me and the ol' woman had scrimped and saved, an' whatthis feller from Chicago give Corson, I done paid off my debt to ol' GedRaffer, an' the little farm's free and clear."
"I'm glad to hear it, Tobe," Uncle Henry declared, shaking hands withthe old lumberman again. "I certain sure am glad to hear it! I'm pleasedthat you shouldn't have that worry on your mind any longer."
"And it has been a worry," said Old Toby, shaking his head. "More'n youthink for. Ye see, it snarled me all up so's I warn't my own master."
"I see."
"Ye see, Ged was allus after me to go inter court an' back up his claimag'in you on that Perkins Tract."
"I see," said Henry Sherwood again, nodding.
"On the other hand, you wanted me, if I knowed which was right, towitness, too. If I'd witnessed for Ged, ev'rybody wuld ha' thought Idone it because he had a mortgage on the farm."
"I s'pose so," admitted Uncle Henry.
"Or, if I helped you, they'd ha' thought you'd bribed me--mebbe helpedme git square with Ged."
"I couldn't. Too poor just now," said Uncle Henry, grimly. "But I'd themind for it, Toby."
"Well, there ye be. Whichever way the cat jumped, I'd lost the respectof the community," said the old lumberman. "But now I am independent, Idon't give a dern!"
Mr. Sherwood looked at him expectantly. Toby's "wizzled" face shone.
"I got a debt owin' to that leetle gal you got here, and somethin' topay off to Tommy, too. But money won't do it, ef I had money. I am goin'to tell what I know about that boundary, though, Hen, and it will do YOUgood! I can find another old feller, livin' down Pale Lick way, that cancorroborate my evidence.
"You can git that injunction vacated at once, Hen, if you want, and putyour axe-men right back into the Perkins Tract to work. That's what Icome 'round to tell ye."
Aunt Kate was moved to tears, an unusual expression of emotion on herpart. Being of pioneer stock, and having suffered much in the past,Nan's aunt was not easily moved. Uncle Henry was delighted. It was agreat day for the Sherwoods.
It was another great day when, a week later, the roan ponies werebrought to the door and Nan's trunk was strapped upon the back of thebuckboard. Uncle Henry was to drive her to the train; but she wouldtravel alone to Chicago to meet her chum, Bess Harley.
"And go to Lakeview Hall! I never did really expect I'd get there," Nansighed, as she clung to Aunt Kate's neck. "It almost makes me forgetthat Momsey and Papa Sherwood are not at home yet.
"But, my dear!" she added, "if such a thing could be, you and UncleHenry have taken the place of my own dear parents all these months Ihave been at Pine Camp. I've had a dee-lightful time. I'll never forgetyou all. I love you, love you, love you."
The roan ponies started on the jump. The boys cheered her from thecorner of the house, having bashfully remained in the background. EvenMargaret Llewellen and her impish brother, Bob, appeared and shrillybade her goodbye.
Nan was off for school, and wonderful adventures lay before her!
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