  Three days later, when Jenny entered the farmhouse kitchen, Grandpa Si, who was washing at the small sink pump, looked up twinkling-eyed to inquire: “Wall, Jenny-gal, them examinations are over now, ain’t they? I reckon they wasn’t nigh so terribul as yo’d figgered, when you got plumb up to ’em, was they now?” Jenny, looking very pale and weary, dropped into the big armed chair opposite her grandmother, who was shelling peas for supper. Then, unexpectedly, she burst into tears. Instantly the pan of peas was placed on the table and her grandmother had comforting arms about the girl. “Dearie, what is ailin’ yo’? Warn’t yo’ able to get the right answers for them examination questions?” The distressed grandfather also hovered about, saying huskily: “Now look a-here, little un, we don’t keer, not a farthing’s worth, whether you knowed them answers or didn’t know ’em. I reckon you’re smarter’n most, how-so-ever, ’twas.” Jenny, who had been clinging to her grandmother, astonished them by saying between sobs: “’Tisn’t the examinations I’m crying about. It’s Lenora. They let me see her for a moment this afternoon and she is so weak and oh so unhappy. She thinks she will never get well, not if she has to stay in that cold, dreary old seminary, and Oh, Grandma Sue, how I do want her to get well. I have always longed to have a sister, and when I found Lenora Gale, I made believe she was the sister I had so wanted. No one knows how I love her.” The old couple were greatly distressed. All these years their “gal” had so longed to have a sister of her very own, and all that time she had had one, whom she didn’t know. Grandma Sue smoothed the rumpled hair and kissed Jenny on the forehead. “Go to your room, dearie, and rest till supper time,” she said soothingly. “You’re all tired out with them examinations. You’ll feel better after you’ve had suthin’ warm to eat.” Jenny permitted her grandfather to help her out of the chair and to lead her toward her room. There she flung herself down on her bed, and the loving old man drew a cover over her. Then he tiptoed back to the kitchen. “Ma,” he said, “I reckon us and Mis’ Poindexter-Jones have got suthin’ to answer for, makin’ it so them two gals grew up not knowin’ as they was sisters.” “Mabbe so,” the old woman had resumed her pea-shelling. “Mabbe so, Silas, but it’s too late now. That proud, haughty gal wouldn’t thank no one to tell her she’s our Jenny’s sister, and she wouldn’t be no comfort to our gal, bein’ as she’s been fetched up so different. But that sweet Lenora Gale, her as is a farmer’s daughter, she’s a friend more suitin’ to our Jenny.” For a few moments the old woman’s fingers were busy, but she was silent and thoughtful. When the peas were ready for the pot, she poured them into the boiling water, then turned and said: “Silas Warner, you and me keer more to have Jenny happy than anything else, don’t we?” “I reckon we do, Ma. What be yo’ aimin’ at? I kin see easy thar’s suthin’ yo’ want to say. I’m agreeable to it, whatever ’tis.” The old woman seemed relieved. “I was thinkin’ as how it would please our Jenny if we was to let her invite her friend Lenora to visit her here a spell. Jenny could sleep on the couch in the livin’ room, and let the sick gal have her bed. I think more’n half what’s the matter with Lenora Gale is that she’s pinin’ for a place that’s home wi’ folks in it to keer for her. Jenny says she’s allays speakin’ of her ma, lonesome-like, because she’s dead.” The old man blew his nose hard, then said blinkingly: “Pore little gal! I was jest a thinkin’ how it might o’ been our Jenny that was sick up to that school prison wi’ no one as really keered.” Jenny’s joy knew no bounds when she learned that she might invite her dear friend Lenora Gale to come to her home and make her a real visit. So sure was she that the sick girl would accept, Jenny was up the next day with the sun. Tying a towel about her curly light brown hair and donning an all-over apron, she swept and scoured and dusted her very own room until it fairly shone. Then she brought in a basket of flowers and put a tumbler full of them in every place where it would stand, with a big bowl of roses on the marble-topped center table. When Grandma Sue called her to breakfast, she skipped to the kitchen and, taking the old couple each by an arm, she led them to the door of her room, singing out: “What do you think of that as a bower for the Princess Lenora?” “Wall, now,” said the old man admiringly, “if our gal ain’t got it fixed up handsome. I reckon your little friend’ll get well in no time wi’ you waitin’ on her, and so much cheeriness to look at.” It was not until they were seated about the table eating their breakfast that Jenny suddenly thought of the possibility that something might happen to prevent Lenora from coming that day. “Maybe she’ll have to write and ask her daddy or her brother and wait for an answer.” For a moment this fear shadowed the shining face, but it did not last long. As soon as the breakfast was over she sprang up and began to clear things away, but her grandmother gently took a dish from her hand. “Thar now, dearie, you have no need to help. I reckon you’re eager to be drivin’ over to the seminary. You’d better start right off.” Impulsively the girl kissed a wrinkled cheek of the old woman. “Oh, Granny Sue, was there ever any other person quite so understanding as you are? I’ll go, if you’ll promise not to do a single thing but the dishes while I am away. Please leave the churning for me to do when I come back with Lenora.” “Tut! tut!” said her grandfather. “Don’t get your heart set on fetchin’ that Lenora gal back with you right to onct. Like as not she won’t be strong enough to ride along of Dobbin today.” But Jenny would not allow herself to be discouraged. “Time enough for that when I find Lenora can’t come,” she confided to Dobbin while she was harnessing that faithful animal. He looked around at her, not without curiosity, as though he wondered why it was his little mistress was so often elated. Impulsively, Jenny hugged him as she said: “Oh, Dob, you old dear, you have no idea how happy I am, nor who it is you are going to bring back to Rocky Point Farm. Have you, now?” She peered around his blinder, but seeing only a rather sleepily blinking eye, she climbed upon the high seat of the wagon, backed from the barn and, turning to wave toward the house, she drove out of the lane singing at the top of her sweet voice. No vehicle was in sight as she carefully crossed the wide Coast Highway. Her granddad had told her always to come to a full stop before driving across, as there were often processions of high-powered cars passing their lane. It was, however, too early for pleasure-seekers to be abroad and so Dobbin started climbing the canyon road leading to the seminary, and even there they met no one. Jenny’s heart was so brimming over with joy that she could not be quiet. When she was not confiding her hopes to Dobbin, she was singing. Suddenly she stopped, for, having reached a turn in the road, she saw ahead of her a young man on horseback. He had drawn to one side and was evidently waiting for the singer to appear. Jenny flushed, for she knew that he must have heard, as she had been trying some high soprano arias of her own composing. The young man had a frank, kind face with no suspicion of a smile, and so the girl decided that he was merely waiting for someone whom he expected, but, as she drew near, he lifted his cap and asked: “Pardon me, but can you tell me if I am on the Live Oak Road? You have so many canyon roads about here leading into the foothills. I am looking for the Granger Place Seminary, where my sister Lenora Gale is staying.” Jenny impulsively put her hand to her heart. “Oh!” she gasped. “Are you going to take Lenora away? Please don’t!” Charles Gale, cap in his hand, gazed inquiringly at the girl, who hurried on to explain: “You see, Lenora and I are best friends and she is so unhappy up at that school, where she doesn’t know anyone, really, and she has been so sick, my grandmother told me I might bring her over to our house to make a visit. Granny Sue said just as I left, ‘Jenny, tell your little friend she may stay with us as long as she wants to, until she is real well, anyway.’” So this was Jenny Warner. The girl paused for breath and the young man, smiling at her, said sincerely: “I am indeed glad to learn that my sister has so true a friend, indeed, more than one, I judge, since your grandmother sent such a kind message to her, but I have come to take Lenora back with me.” Jenny’s ever expressive face registered such disappointment and sorrow that the young man could not but add: “Suppose we go up to the seminary together and talk the matter over with my sister. Perhaps, if she is not strong enough to travel, it may be well for her to remain with you for a week or two. I would be glad to leave her in a pleasant place at least that long, as I shall not be through at the agricultural college for two weeks yet. Then I can accompany Lenora back to Dakota where our father so eagerly awaits her coming.” Realizing that, as he had not introduced himself he said: “I presume that my sister has mentioned her brother Charles.” “Oh, yes, I knew you at once.” Jenny’s clear brown eyes gazed out at him with friendly interest. “You look like Lenora, though I can’t say just how.” Then, as she again started Dobbin up the hill road, she beamed at her companion as she said: “This is going to be a happy day for your sister. How surprised she will be, and how glad! And I’m glad that I met you, for Miss Granger might have said that Lenora could not visit me, but if you say that she can, no one else will have any authority.” Then impulsively: “I’m going to be your friend forever and ever.” Then with one of her sudden changes, Jenny flashed a bright look at him, as she pointed ahead: “There, did you ever see a view like that before?” They had reached the top of the hill road and were near the seminary gate. The view across the valley to the towering mountains was indeed magnificent. Then Jenny looked back of her and again pointed, this time toward the sea. “That is Rocky Point, just below the canyon road,” she said, “and that old adobe is our farmhouse.” Charles was much impressed with the beauty of it all, and, as his gaze wandered back to the glowing face of the girl, he heard rather than thought, “You’ll just love Jenny Warner.” Aloud he asked: “And is this the seminary?” His companion nodded and led the way between the high stone gate posts. “Maybe I’d better wait outside while you go in and see Miss Granger,” Jenny suggested when they drew rein at the front of the seminary. But Charles Gale would not agree to that. Having dismounted, he fastened the reins about a hitching post and asked if his companion could safely leave her horse. “Oh, yes, indeed,” Jenny replied brightly. “Dobbin wouldn’t move until I came again, if it was never.” Together they went up the wide stone steps and Charles lifted the iron knocker. A maid admitted them, staring in amazement when she saw the girl, who delivered eggs and honey at the kitchen door, arriving at the front with a fine-looking young man in a golfing costume. Charles, not knowing of this, could not understand the surprised expression directed at his companion. Jenny smiled and said “good morning” in her usual pleasant way. Having asked to see Miss Granger, he presented his card. “Walk in,” the maid said. “I’ll tell Miss Granger that you’re here, sir.” When they were alone in the prim little reception room, Jenny confided: “Maggie has never seen me coming to the front door. My grandfather raises chickens and bees, and I often deliver honey and eggs around at the back door. Perhaps Miss Granger may think it queer if——” “Of course it isn’t queer!” Charles interrupted with emphasis. “My sister’s best friend has the right to enter the front door of——” He did not complete his sentence, but rose instead, for a stately, rather haughty appearing woman had appeared. The visitor was warmly received. “Mr. Gale, I am indeed pleased that you have come. Poor little Lenora has not been at all well of late, and that is why I sent for you. She has been at perfect liberty to do as she wished, as you requested, but she contracts frequent colds, and this last one has lingered.” Miss Granger hesitated, then confessed. “The truth is, your sister does not seem to be real happy here. She is timid and does not care to mingle with her schoolmates.” Then she added frankly: “I find that, on the whole, the young ladies are rather heartless. They do not make an effort to include in their pleasures one who is naturally reserved and who, in turn, seems to care nothing at all about being included.” Miss Granger, on entering the room, had bowed somewhat distantly to Jenny Warner, whom she did not recognize, as she had seldom seen her. Charles, noting this, asked: “Miss Granger, are you acquainted with little Miss Warner, whose grandfather is a farmer in this neighborhood?” The woman, whose manner was rather frigid at all times, lifted her eyebrows ever so slightly as though marveling that a young man whose sister attended her select seminary should be found in the companionship of a hired farmer’s granddaughter. Their own father, Mr. Gale, might own a farm, but that was very different, as he had countless acres of wheat lands, she understood, and was very rich, while the Warners were merely hired to conduct a small farm belonging to the Poindexter-Jones estate. All this went quickly through the woman’s thoughts and she was astonished to hear the young man saying: “I have decided, Miss Granger, to remove my sister to the farm home of Miss Warner for the two weeks remaining before I complete my studies at the Berkeley Agricultural College. My sister is very fond of Miss Jenny, and I feel that the companionship she will have in that home will do much to help her recover the strength she will need for the long journey to Dakota.” Miss Granger prided herself on being able to hide all emotions, and on never expressing surprise, but she could not resist saying: “I was unaware of this friendship, which is the result, no doubt, of the freedom of action which you wished your sister to have, but if it is a friendship sanctioned by Lenora’s brother, I, of course, can say nothing concerning it.” Rising, she held out her hand: “I will have Miss Gale’s trunk packed at once, and shall I have it sent to the Poindexter-Jones farm?” “Yes, if you please, and thank you, Miss Granger, for your many kindnesses to my sister.” With a cold nod toward the girl and with a formal reply to Charles’ polite speech, she swept from the room. The lad turned with an amused smile toward his companion. In a low voice he said: “I understand now why Sister never wrote me that I would be sure to love Miss Granger.” Charles was shocked indeed at the appearance of the sister who was dearer to him than life itself. Pale and so wearily she came into the room leaning on the school nurse. Throwing her arms about her brother’s neck she clung to him. “I’ve been so lonely for mother lately,” she sobbed. “I dream of her often just as though she were alive and well. Then I am so happy, but I waken and realize that mother is never coming back.” The young man, much moved, pressed his cheek close to the tear-wet one of the girl. “I know, darling, I know.” Then, striving to keep a break out of his voice, he said cheerily: “See who is here, Sister. Someone of whom you have often written me. And she has a wonderful plan to suggest.” Lenora smiled wanly and held out a frail white hand. “I love Jenny Warner,” she said as though informing her brother of something he already knew. Then she asked, looking from one to the other: “Where am I going? Home to father?” “Not quite yet, dear girl,” her brother replied. “Jenny’s grandmother has invited you to visit them for two weeks, or rather, until I am through with my studies, then, if you are strong enough, I will take you home to Dad.” Before Lenora could express her pleasure, the ever watchful nurse stepped forward, saying: “Miss Gale ought not to be kept standing. Miss Granger has ordered the closed carriage and bade me accompany my patient to her destination.” “That’s fine.” Charles found it hard to keep a note of anxiety out of his voice when Lenora sank into a near chair and began to cough. He followed the nurse from the room when she went to get her wraps. “Please tell me my sister’s condition,” he said in a low, troubled voice. “Her lungs are not affected, are they?” “No, I am glad to say they are not. The trouble seems to be in her throat.” Then, after a thoughtful moment, the nurse added, glancing about to be sure that no one was near: “I would not wish to be quoted, but I believe Miss Gale’s recovery depends upon her being in an environment which she will enjoy. Here she is very lonely and broods continually for the mother who is gone.” “Thank you for having told me.” Charles was indeed grateful to the nurse, whose name he did not know. “I shall see that such an environment is found for my dear sister if it exists anywhere. Our mother has been dead for several years, but, as time goes on, we miss her more and more.” “I understand,” the nurse said as though she, too, had had a similar loss, then she glided quietly away. On returning to the reception room, Jenny suggested that she would better go at once to the farmhouse that she might be there to welcome Lenora and the nurse. Charles agreed that the plan was a good one, and so, tenderly kissing her friend, Jenny went out; the young man opening the door for her. When she had driven away, Charles returned to his sister, who smiled up at him faintly as she said: “Wasn’t I right, Charles? Isn’t Jenny the sweetest, dearest girl you ever saw?” But her brother shook his head. “No, indeed,” he said, emphatically, taking one of the listless hands from the arm of the chair. “The sweetest, dearest girl in this world to me is your very own self, and, although I am quite willing to like any girl whom you may select as a best friend, you will never get me to acknowledge that she is sweeter than my very own sister. However, I will agree that I am pleased with Miss Jenny Warner to the extent of being willing, even glad, to have you in the same house with her until you are strong enough to travel to our home with me. I’ll wire Dad tonight. I have purposely kept your illness from him. It would be unwise for him to come here at this time of the year. We cannot both be away from the farm at seeding time.” The nurse reappeared, saying the coach was waiting. The young giant of a lad lifted his sister and carried her out of the seminary which she was indeed glad to leave. Jenny and her grandmother were on the side porch of the picturesque adobe farmhouse when Charles Gale on horseback rode up, immediately followed by the closed carriage. Susan Warner with tender pity in her face and voice, welcomed the pale girl, who was lifted out of the conveyance by the strong arms of her brother. Lenora’s sweet gray eyes were brimmed with tears and her lips trembled when she tried to thank the old woman for her great kindness. “There, there, dearie. Don’t try to be sayin’ anything now. You’re all petered out with the ride.” Then cheerily: “Jenny’ll show you where to fetch little Lenora, Mister—” she hesitated and the girl at her side hastened to say: “Grandma Sue, this is Charles Gale, Lenora’s brother. Miss Granger had sent for him.” The pleasant-faced young man bowed as he apologized for his inability to remove his hat. His sister having recovered from her first desire to cry, smilingly did it for him. “Haven’t I a giant for a brother?” she asked; then holding out a frail hand to the nurse, who had descended from the carriage carrying the wraps and a satchel. Lenora said: “Mrs. Warner, this is Miss Adelaide Wells, who has been very kind to me.” Then, as memory of the place she had left surged over her, the tears again came: “Oh, brother,” she half sobbed, clinging to him, “promise me I’ll never, never have to be sent to a seminary again.” “Why, of course not,” he assured her. “When I have finished my schooling you and I will go back to our farm home and stay there forever and forever. If you need any further instruction, I can help you, so put that fear quite out of your thought.” The girl smiled, but seemed too weak to make a reply. Charles followed Jenny through the kitchen and the cheerful living room into the bedroom which had been decked in so festive a fashion only that morning. After the nurse had put Lenora to bed, she returned to the seminary. The weary girl rested for a while with her eyes closed, then she opened them and looked about her. She found Jenny sitting quietly by her bedside just waiting. Lenora smiled without speaking and seemed to be listening to the rush of the waves on the rocks, then she said: “That is the lullabye I once said I would like to hear in the night. It’s like magic, having it all come to pass.” She smiled around at the flowers. “How sweet they are! I know that each one tells me some message of the thoughtfulness and love of my friend.” Holding out a frail hand, Lenora continued: “Jenny Warner, if I live, I am going to do something to make you glad that you have been so kind to me.” A pang, like a pain, shot through the listener’s heart. “If I live.” She had not for one moment thought that her dear, dear friend might die. She was relieved to hear the other girl add in a brighter manner, as though she felt stronger after her brief rest: “I believe now that I shall live, but truly, Jenny, I didn’t care much when I lay all day up there in that cold, dreary seminary with no one near to mind whether I stayed or went. But now that I am here with you in this lovely, cheerful room, somehow I feel sure that I shall live.” Before her companion could reply, she asked: “Where is brother Charles?” Jenny glanced out of the window. “Oh, there he is, standing on that high rock on the point, the one that canopies over our seat, you know, where we sat the last time you were at the farm. Shall I call him, dear?” Lenora nodded and so Jenny, bareheaded, ran out toward the point of rocks. Charles, turning, saw her and went to meet her. “Has my sister rested?” he asked. Jenny said that she had, then anxiously she inquired: “Mr. Gale, what does the nurse think? Lenora is not seriously ill, is she?” There was a sudden shadowing of the eyes that looked down at her. “I don’t know, Miss Jenny. I sincerely hope not. At my request Miss Wells will send me a daily report of my sister’s condition. The nurse takes a walk every afternoon, and, if your grandmother is willing, she will stop here until our little Lenora is much better.” “I think that a splendid plan. It will be better than having a doctor call every day.” Then brightening: “Oh, Mr. Gale, I am sure Lenora will get well. She is better, come and see for yourself.” And so together they went indoors. |
|
