It was all very exciting, but Nancy didn’t want to think that she was really glad to get rid of her precious Whatnot Shop. Ted openly declared “he told her so,” as boys will, but she politely drew his attention to the fact that she had fulfilled her contract, that she had earned money, quite a lot of money, in fact, and in now turning the shop over to Miss Manners she was following her mother’s advice.

It was a few days later than that evening when she and her mother offered the use of the shop to the little seamstress, and now they were preparing to call on Miss Townsend.

“Suppose she says she wants it back,” faltered Nancy, just patting her dark hair back into the desired soft little bumps. “What would we say, Mother, if she just begged us to let her have it?”

“Why dear, we could let her have a part of it, perhaps. She could come in and sell out what little stock you have, while Miss Manners is getting ready for her class.”

“Oh, but,” pouted Nancy, “I would just hate to have her do that. If you ever saw the way she snooped around, Mother. And the way that dog acted!” Nancy’s manner was very decidedly one of opposition to Miss Townsend and her dog.

“Well, come along, dear,” her mother urged, “we must not stay late. I have some notes to write up and I don’t want to lose sleep over them.”

Whatever else bothered Nancy Brandon, an evening’s walk through the country roads of Long Leigh, in a beautiful summer twilight with her arm locked tightly in her mother’s, was balm enough to soothe and heal every slightest hurt and anxiety.

“Mother-love,” she actually cooed, in the softest little voice she could command, “I just love it tonight, don’t you?”

“Perfect,” replied the happy mother, pressing lovingly upon the imprisoned arm. “And I am so glad, daughter-love, that you want to give up your business.” There was a humorous little twist given to that last word, for Nancy’s business was and had been something of a practical joke among the Brandons.

“Let’s walk around the old house,” suggested Nancy, for they were at a fork in the road and needed to choose a way to Miss Townsend’s. “Then, maybe we will discover something about Mr. Sanders’ quarters.”

But just as they were about to turn into the lane that led past the old stone house, Ted hailed them from the hilltop.

He wanted to know where they were going. He wanted to know if he could go along, and as they managed to make signs that gave at least a negative answer to this last request, they found themselves on the open road, walking directly away from the old stone house.

“We won’t be long, Ted,” his mother assured him, as he reached them, “and you can, if you want to, go over to Norton Duncan’s. We will give you a call as we come back, and then we will all go home together. The side door key is in the regular place though, if you would rather go home—”

“Oh, no I wouldn’t. I’ll stay out 'til nine, and Nort and I’ll practice drill,” proclaimed Ted. “We’re going to have a regular test drill soon, and he’s my partner.”

This being a satisfactory arrangement, Ted went to Nort’s while Nancy and her mother continued on to the little country hotel, where the Townsends had taken up their abode.

“I do hope,” murmured Nancy, “that she won’t upset our plans. I just can’t see, Mother, why you bother about her at all,” she complained.

“The place is ours for this summer to do as we please with it, Nancy,” her mother replied, “but just the same, it is a little business courtesy to show to Miss Townsend. We have the option on the place, and I fully intend to buy it, but the shop was so dear to Miss Townsend’s heart, that I feel we ought to, at least, tell her what we plan to do for the month.”

“You’re so, generous, Mother,” sighed Nancy. “I wish I were more like you.”

Her mother smiled and squeezed the young hand that rested so confidently upon her own arm.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she answered. “You know what dear grandma always said when you got into little troubles?”

“Yes,” replied Nancy, “that my heart was in the right place if my head was a little shaky.”

“Yes, that’s it. And don’t we miss grandma? She might just as well come out here with us, but I was afraid of bringing her to the old-fashioned little house. Well, here we are at our hotel,” Mrs. Brandon broke off, as they came in sight of the long white building, with its unmistakable hotel piazza.

In the row of rockers on the porch sat a row of men on one side and almost a row of women, or “ladies” on the other. Country folks, with a few city interlopers, composed the patronage of the Waterfall House, it was quite evident.

Nancy and her mother smiled at the faces and half-greeted them, as they passed into the office, and after asking for Miss Townsend’s rooms, followed the boy along the red carpeted hall, and up a stairs carpeted with what once had been red. They journeyed on until they reached a little turn in the second hall. Before this their guide halted and pointed out a door that bore the number twenty-seven.

Nancy’s heart would have jumped a little apprehensively had it been a less healthy young heart, but as it was, she merely kept very close to her mother until the boy turned on his heel and whistled a returning tune.

“Maybe she’s sick in bed,” Nancy was thinking, just as the door was opened in response to her mother’s knock.

“Why! Mrs. Brandon!” she heard a voice exclaim. “And Nancy!” as Miss Townsend bowed them in. “How glad I am to see you! Do come right in. Here, take this chair, it’s so comfortable. Nancy, sit by the window,” she was pushing a chair over to the girl, “and you can see the people passing. Well, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you both.”

Nancy was so surprised she almost exclaimed aloud. There was the “sick” Miss Townsend fairly beaming, in, what surely looked like, very good health. The little dog was frisking around and Nancy had scarcely seated herself in the chair by the window when he pounced up on her lap, and after “kissing her” several times, finally subsided into a small, brown, woolly ball, cuddled into a little nest formed from the soft folds of Nancy’s blue voile skirt.

“I’m so glad to see you are better, Miss Townsend,” Mrs. Brandon presently said. “You have been ill, we heard.”

“Yes indeed, but I’m better now, really a new woman, you might say,” and Miss Townsend now seated herself comfortably on the small green sofa near them. “But it was just worry. Worry is a pretty bad ailment, isn’t it?” she asked, smiling a contradiction to anything like worry affecting her just then.

“You are real cozy here,” Mrs. Brandon ventured.

“Yes, it’s quite pleasant, but I’ve just come back from a trip to the sea shore. I guess that is what helped me most,” conceded Miss Townsend.

Like Nancy, Mrs. Brandon also, was much surprised at Miss Townsend’s exuberant spirits. It was perfectly plain that some good fortune had befallen the lady since she had paid that mournful visit to Nancy.

“You see,” she began, as if in answer to their unmasked questions, “our business affairs are being all straightened out and Brother Elmer is getting back the money he loaned. Of course I didn’t understand, and it is one of those affairs a woman isn’t supposed to understand.” This was said in that sort of tone that conveys deep and mysterious meaning.

“I’m awfully glad of that,” Mrs. Brandon assured the woman in her brand new heliotrope one piece dress. It was quite modish, indeed, and without question, very becoming to Miss Townsend.

“Oh, yes,” went on the hostess, “I was so worried for a long time. You see, I really couldn’t have faith in a business deal that I was not privileged to know the details of. I have been a business woman all my life,” she insisted, “and I’m not afraid to tackle any business deal,” at this she dangled her amethyst beads self-consciously. “But Elmer and Mr. Sanders!” Her hands went up protestingly. “They just used every dollar. Well—” she broke off suddenly, “it’s all right now, so why should I fuss about it. You didn’t come to hear of my troubles, I’m sure.”

At this point Mrs. Brandon divulged the real purpose of her visit. Nancy was having a great time with Tiny. He was awake now and evidently eager to show off. He stood up and begged, jumped down and “prayed” and otherwise disported himself most wonderfully. The distraction afforded Nancy a welcome chance to sit aside and take little or no part in the elder’s conversation, but she was, as Ted would have said, “all ears to it.”

“Why, I think that’s a perfectly splendid idea,” she heard Miss Townsend say, in reference to the plan of giving the store over to Miss Manners. “And I must say you are very generous, Mrs. Brandon,” she complimented. “As a matter of fact, fancy-store business is not what it used to be. More folks now take to the mail order plan, especially in winter. Why, there were months when I didn’t see the color of a 'green back’ in that place,” she admitted. “Yet, I couldn’t help loving the old place. I had been in it so long,” she concluded earnestly.

“I met Mr. Sanders’ daughter, Miss Townsend,” Nancy spoke up, determined to bring up that subject, “and I think she’s a perfectly splendid girl.”

“Isn’t she though! But she couldn’t help but be smart with such a father.” This last little speech was indeed a compliment to the absent Mr. Sanders.

“But where does he live?” demanded Nancy, without any attempt to cloak her question with indifference.

“Live? Why, my dear child, he lives here! Just moved in, and I do declare, the man needs some comfort after all he’s been through. If Elmer comes in before you go I’ll have him bring Mr. Sanders in. We are all the best of friends now,” declared the incomprehensible little woman on the green velour sofa.