CHAPTER VI A Black Sheep
The one month in the winter camp had made more change in Nan Graham thanthe entire preceding summer, and the influence exerted by Rose Dyer in soshort a time greater than all Miss McMurtry's conscientious efforts, sodoes one character often affect another, so by a strange law of nature doextremes meet. Unconsciously Nan had always cherished just such an idealas Rose represented. This uncouth young girl, untrained in even thesimple things of life, with her curious mixed parentage of an Italianpeasant mother and a ne'er-do-well father, who nevertheless was of goodold New England stock, wished to be like the lovely southern girl who hadnearly every grace and charm and had had every possible social advantage.Yet in spite of the contrast Nan did wish to be like her and though evento herself there seemed little chance of her succeeding, did try to moldherself after Rose's pattern. The other girls quickly noted her attemptsto soften her coarse voice, to give up the use of the ugly expressionsthat had so annoyed them and even to wear her clothes and to fix herthick black hair in a soft coil at the back of her neck as their guardiandid. But fortunately they were kind enough not to laugh nor even to letNan know that they were watching her. The girl had a certain beauty ofher own with her dark coloring and sometimes sullen, sometimes eager,face. Her figure, however, was short and square, indeed she showed notrace of her New England blood and bore no resemblance to graceful Rose.
However, as the days went by Nan was growing to be more like the otherCamp Fire girls in her manner and behavior, and was probably learningmore than any one of them, since she had had fewer opportunities before.
Miss Dyer could hardly help suspecting Nan's devotion, for although shewas still faithful to Polly as her first friend in the club, always shewas at Rose's side ready to do anything she wished, and always acceptingher suggestions in the best spirit. It was therefore the new Camp Fireguardian who was responsible for Nan's not separating herself from herfamily as the young girl would like to have done during this time of hereffort at self-improvement. For Rose knew that the whole effort of theCamp Fire organization was to make the girls more useful, to give betterand happier service to the people they loved. Therefore, because ofRose's advice and after a long talk with her in which Nan explained theconditions of her own home, it was decided that the young girl shouldspend every Saturday with her mother helping her with the work of thehome and the care of the children, and trying to make practical thelessons she was learning in the Camp Fire.
These days at home were not easy ones, and the girls were accustomed toseeing Nan come back at night tired and cross or at least dispirited. Hermother had no interest in her efforts. She was opposed to her oldestdaughter's living away from home if she were earning no money, and had nodesire to have her house disturbed by Nan's vigorous weekly efforts atcleaning. Indeed, except for Nan's father, she would never have beenpermitted to live at the cabin, where her share of the expenses were nowbeing paid by Rose Dyer. He, however, had a kind of sympathy with thegirl's efforts, and a slowly awakening sense that his daughter had theright to wish to be a lady. Though he might not actually help her, atleast no one should stand in her way. So at his command Nan had beenallowed this winter with the girls at the cabin and was also to do whatshe liked without interference when she returned home on Saturdays.Personally he liked the smell of soap and water which her visits leftabout his shack and greatly enjoyed the homemade bread and the weeklypumpkin pie which was always cooked especially for him.
But Nan's most serious opposition came not from her idle but fairlygood-natured mother but from her older brother Antonio, or Anthony as hepreferred to be called. Having been given the Italian name he was lessItalian than any other member of the family. Indeed, he was agood-looking American boy with hazel eyes and a fair skin and, except forhis curly dark hair and a certain unconscious grace, not different inappearance from other American boys. Yet he shared the family weaknessesand had refused to go to school for the past two years. Indeed, he wouldnot work at anything for a sufficiently long enough time to make itcount, so that probably because he was a boy, and a fairly capable one ifhe had been more ambitious, his present reputation was now the worst inthe family. He appeared also to resent Nan's new friendships and newefforts with the greatest possible bitterness.
On the Saturday morning when Polly and Betty started driving toward townon their errand, about a quarter of a mile from the cabin they cameunexpectedly upon Nan. She was trudging steadfastly along with a bundleof clothing which Rose had given her for the younger children under herarm, looking resolute and yet none too cheerful.
Before catching up with her the two girls sighed and then smiled at oneanother. They had wanted this drive together without any one else and hadwaited until Saturday morning so that Betty's pony, Fire Star, would befree for her use and they could have the small sleigh, which had beenwell mended since the accident. Fire Star and a pony belonging to SylviaWharton had made the trips back and forth to school each day and a returnjourney was too much for them except for some special emergency. Both thegirls had particularly wanted to discuss certain features of their CampFire play without interruption, but now the sight of Nan's faithfulfigure awoke their sympathy.
"For goodness' sake, squeeze into the middle along with us, Nan," Bettyinvited. "How selfish you must have thought Polly and me this morningwhen we were planning right before you to drive into town and never saida word about taking you as far as your home. The fact is we both hadsomething so important on our minds, or at least the thing seemsimportant to me, so that really we forgot about you."
The girls then said nothing of their errand while they were driving alongthe road, where the snow was now beaten down into a hard, firm crust. Butwhen they had set Nan down in front of the ram-shackle hut at the edge ofthe village which served as her home, Betty leaned out remarkingconfidentially: "I am sorry we can't come back for you, Nan, but I am toget my box of jewelry from the bank and take it to our cabin so that Ifeel we ought to get back as soon as we can."
There was no point in Betty's making this confession at this special timeand Polly disapproved of it. They had taken no one into their confidenceexcept Mollie, and, of course, their guardian. However, since Nan hadbeen falsely suspected of stealing her money, Betty had never failed ofshowing her faith in her.
And Nan understood this as she stood for several moments watching thepony and sleigh out of sight and hearing. Polly was wearing a crimsonfelt hat with a small black quill in it and a long red coat, and Betty, aseal-skin cap with a knot of her favorite blue velvet on one side and afur coat. Nan could not help feeling the contrast between their lives andhers as she stepped later into their crowded and untidy kitchen.Nevertheless their friendship helped her to bear the fact that herbrother Anthony, whom she loved best in her family, would not even speakto her. Indeed the thought of the Camp Fire club sustained her throughthe long and specially trying day.
A slight flurry of snow fell during the morning, so that the four youngerchildren would not go out of doors but kept getting under Nan's feetwhile she tried to clean. Her mother objected to each thing she did andAnthony loafing in a corner smoking cigarettes tried his best to make herlose her temper.
At lunch Mr. Graham, who usually came home then and made things easierfor Nan, did not return, so that by the time the dishes were washed thegirl had given up the attempt to do any further cleaning and turned toher usual Saturday baking. This was usually more appreciated by herfamily. Because of a possible failure if she were too much interrupted,Mrs. Graham then removed the younger children to another room, leavingNan alone with her brother.
He did not torment her any further at first, but seeing that he wasunusually moody and out of sorts his sister turned to him.
"What is it, Tony?" she inquired good-naturedly, ignoring what had passedbetween them.
The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Wasn't good enough to be elected a BoyScout," he sneered, "seems like the fellows around here said they didn'tli
ke my record and wanted their camps kept up to the mark. Course I don'tcare anything about joining but they might have given a fellow a chance.Give a man a black name--I say, Nan," he broke off suddenly, "couldn'tyou lend me some money, say five dollars or so?"
Nan stared at him in surprise. Anthony must know that she hadn't a centin the world to call her own and that she was having her expenses paid byMiss Dyer at the cabin. Of course she meant some day to repay Rose, Bettyand Polly for all they had done for her but it might take a number ofyears.
"Couldn't you borrow the money from some of your rich friends?" hedemanded, irritated and ashamed at his sister's silence. And then,unexpectedly, seeming to feel a better impulse, he came closer to thetable where Nan was now mixing her pie crust and watched her quietly fora few moments. In a measure he realized his own right to be a gentleman,and resented the fact that they were everywhere looked down upon, andthat Nan's efforts to better herself had to be made outside her ownfamily.
"There ain't no use your trying to make something of yourself, Nan," hesaid more kindly than he had spoken before during the day. "This CampFire business don't mean anything _real_. These girls maybe are lettingyou live with them and treating you fairly well but once you're grown up,maybe they'll say 'Howdy do' to you on the street, but they won't everask you into their houses or be your friends. I bet they didn't want youdriving into town and being seen on the street with them to-day. I waswatching and saw them set you down at your own door pretty prompt."
"It wasn't because they were ashamed of me," Nan defended promptly, andyet although she knew that what she had said was true she could not helpfeeling both sore and ashamed. For the other Camp Fire girls really hadthe right to feel differently toward her when her own family would donothing to make themselves respected and when she found it so hard tostruggle with so much against her. For an instant Nan felt as if shemight have to give up. But only for an instant, for she raised herflushed face and her brother saw the tears standing in her large darkeyes.
"The girls would have been perfectly willing to take me into thevillage," she explained more quietly, "only they knew I had to work athome and they were going in on an important errand to get some money orjewelry of Betty's from the bank before it closed. They wanted to getback to the cabin before dark or else Betty said they would have stoppedby and taken me home with them."
The moment after these words passed Nan's lips she regretted them, notbecause she believed any possible harm could come of them but because sheremembered that Betty and Polly had both told her no one else had beentold of their intention and she did not wish to be the one to betraytheir confidence.
"Please don't tell anybody what I have just said?" she beggedbeseechingly, but already her brother was lounging away as though he hadgrown tired of the confinement of the kitchen and apparently had not evenheard her. But when Nan repeated her request he returned. "Oh, certainlyI won't tell, Nan. Who on earth would I mention such a silly thing toanyway? It seems to me you Sunrise Camp Fire girls think every littlething you do and say of importance to all the world."