  Produced by Roger Frank. NANCY PEMBROKE IN NOVA SCOTIA By MARGARET T. VAN EPPS Author of “Nancy Pembroke, College Maid,” “Nancy Pembroke in New Orleans,” THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO. Copyright, 1930 Printed in the United States of America TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER I A RÉSUMÉ It was one of those chilly, rainy days that sometimes come in early summer, when a grate fire is not only cheery but almost necessary. Mrs. Pembroke was embroidering at one side of the hearth, while she visited with the guest her daughter had brought home from college the preceding evening. “It is too bad that Nancy had to leave you the very first thing,” observed Mrs. Pembroke, glancing at the girl who was sprawled in the big chair opposite her. “Oh, I don’t mind; but I’m sorry about her tooth. She said it began to trouble her yesterday, and I guess she slept very little last night. I didn’t know about it, or I should have stayed awake with her.” “Nancy certainly would not have wanted you to do that. So you slept well; did you?” “Just like a log. Nan’s room is lovely; but I was so surprised to find twin beds in it. I had hoped that we would sleep together.” “We think it is better for people to sleep alone; and Nan so often has someone here for the night, that I took out the big bed which used to be in there, and substituted the two singles; though it does crowd the room a bit.” Mrs. Pembroke did not mention that the change had been a very recent one. When her daughter wrote for permission to bring home for the first two weeks of the summer vacation this singularly unattractive classmate, she immediately replied that if Nan were willing to have the girl share her room, she might invite her. “What’s the idea?” Mr. Pembroke had inquired when he read the letter. “A twofold one. In the first place, using the guest room makes a lot more work; and in the second, it is not unwise to let Nancy put up with a few things. She has always enjoyed all the privileges of an only child, which have naturally resulted in the development of numerous little faults——” “I can’t see them,” interrupted her husband. “Nan’s one fine girl—I think!” “And I agree with you. I’m just as fond and proud of her as you are; but you must admit that she is over-impulsive. She jumps into something without thinking; and then when she gets into difficulties, someone has to help her out. I just want her to learn to consider all sides of a project before she undertakes it.” “Sure, that’s all right; but what has it to do with this Kane girl who is coming here?” Mrs. Pembroke had smiled and patiently explained. Men were so slow to grasp an idea, sometimes! “Nan, who evidently felt sorry for the girl in question—I understand she has been shunned by all the rest—suddenly decided to ask her here for a couple of weeks. That is all right, and I admire her for it; but I want her to carry out her good deed to the very end. If I put Emma in the guest room, and take her off Nan’s hands a great deal of the time, how is the experiment going to help our girl? Don’t you see the situation?” “No,” Mr. Pembroke had replied bluntly, “I’m afraid I don’t; but as long as you do, and are satisfied, it’s all right with me.” A couple of days before college closed, Mrs. Pembroke, who had been giving some serious thought to the matter, went downtown one morning and purchased twin beds, a new rug, and new curtains for her daughter’s room. A wave of gratification swept over her now as she recalled Nancy’s surprise, delight, and rapturous thanks. She had left Emma getting ready for bed, and had flown to her mother’s room to give vent to her enthusiasm which she had concealed from her guest. Mrs. Pembroke was aroused from her reverie by a question from Emma. “Jeanette comes here a lot; doesn’t she?” “Oh, yes.” “Has she always known Nancy?” “Since they were little bits of tots. We moved here when Nancy was little more than a baby, and they went through grade and high school together. When they were graduated, Nancy did not know whether she wanted to go to college or not; so she planned to stay home with me a year, and try to decide. Jeanette was getting ready for Smith when Mr. Pembroke had to go West on business, to be away for a year. My brother, Dr. Donovan, persuaded me to go too, as I was not very well at the time, saying that Nancy could go to the college at Eastport where he lived. So it was decided; and Jeanette changed her plans, and went to Eastport too. “My brother had to go abroad with a patient the following summer, and Nancy spent the time at Jeanette’s. They took a little trip up the Rideau Lakes; and later in the summer a friend of Mrs. Grant’s, a Miss Ashton, took them down the St. Lawrence and up the Saguenay. They stopped at Tadousac, Quebec, and Montreal, and had a wonderful time. In the fall, Nancy felt that she simply couldn’t go back to Eastport, with her uncle still away. You see, they had been very devoted to each other ever since Nan was a baby, and naturally they had seen a great deal of each other during Nancy’s Freshman year at Eastport. So she and Jeanette begged to go to Roxford. From there on, you know their story too.” “But I thought that the summer after their Sophomore year they went to New Orleans to visit Nan’s uncle and aunt,” said Emma, frowning in a puzzled manner. “They did. Dr. Donovan’s patient, Mr. Doyle, died shortly after they took him to Germany; and since his widow was ill from strain and shock, and my brother was taking a course at one of the medical schools, the two stayed on for a time. Some months later, they married, and the doctor had an offer of a position in a New Orleans hospital. So they settled there.” “Oh, I see. And where are the girls going this summer? I haven’t heard Nancy say.” Emma had an insatiable curiosity, which she made no attempt to conceal. “Miss Ashton and Madelon want them to go to Nova Scotia with them.” “Madelon? Who is she?” “A little French girl whom they met in Beaupre, and who came back to live with Miss Ashton in Boston, and go to high school. She had always wanted to continue her education in ‘the States,’ as she refers to this country, and since her foster parents (her own died when she was very young) did not need her, Miss Ashton invited her to return with them. She goes to high school in the morning, and takes charge of a doctor’s office afternoons and a couple of evenings each week.” “I should like to see Nova Scotia,” observed Emma. “When are they going?” “Their plans have not been fully worked out yet; so the exact date has not been set. But your summer is entirely taken up with invitations from your college mates; is it not?” asked Mrs. Pembroke, hastening to discourage any idea of her following the others. She had some Spartan theories regarding her daughter’s character development, but she did not want them to spoil a vacation trip. “Y-e-s, but——” “I think it is a very fine opportunity for you,” interrupted Mrs. Pembroke, “and one you should make the most of. It is good for all of us to share the home lives of others occasionally. We see how things are done, and get all kinds of new and beneficial ideas. While most of the girls whom you will visit are not especially wealthy, they are all very fine girls who know exactly what to do, and how to do it under all circumstances. Excuse me for being rather frank, Emma—I am speaking to you exactly as I should if you were Nancy; but since you have not had the same advantages of home life and training as they, why not observe closely the ways and customs of your hostesses? Many little personal habits and niceties you will probably want to adopt for your own.” The suggestions were difficult to make, but Mrs. Pembroke presented them in so gentle and charming a manner, that a girl considerably more sensitive than Emma Kane could hardly have taken offense. She gave all her attention at this point to a difficult spray in the embroidery pattern, and Emma thought about the various girls whom she was to visit. Nancy and Jeanette, with eight other girls of their class, had, during Junior year, formed a secret club whose object was charity of various kinds. When Nan and Janie had announced their intention of devoting part of their summer vacation to trying to “make over” Emma Kane, the other members of the club had each volunteered to entertain the girl for a week. Emma had been unpopular all through her college course. Besides being unattractive, she was careless about her personal appearance, lacking in all the niceties of manner that seemed to come so naturally to the rest of the girls, and was always forcing herself upon people. She was naturally sociable, and apparently failed to realize why the other girls avoided her. Early in their Junior year, she paid considerable attention to Nancy, who, acting on the advice of her friends, discouraged any intimacy. The matter rather troubled Nancy throughout the year; for she thought that something might be made of the girl, and that at least some effort ought to be made. Hence her invitation to Emma to spend the first week of the vacation at the Pembroke home. CHAPTER II A BEGINNING “Emma,” said Nancy suddenly, after they were settled in bed some nights later, “why don’t you have your hair bobbed?” Several days had passed, and nothing had yet been accomplished; and she did so want to pass her guest on to the other girls greatly improved. “Why bother? I can twist it up in a couple of minutes,” replied Emma, only mildly interested. “But I think it would be so much more becoming if it were short.” “I’m not one to fuss about looking well. I’m so homely anyway that it doesn’t matter.” There was something a bit pathetic about the admission, but it rather annoyed Nancy. “That’s all nonsense!” she snapped. “It is everybody’s duty to look her best at all times.” “How so?” Emma, was obviously surprised at her vehemence. “Because other people have to look at us; and because, too, it gives one poise and confidence, and therefore affects one’s accomplishments.” “I don’t see how.” “Well, for example. The day we had to give our dissertations in Economics class, I was scared positively green. The idea of getting up in front, and facing that big class of men and women, and talking for twenty minutes about Corn Laws simply petrified me. So I took extra pains with my toilet that morning, used my favorite soap, bath salts, and powder; and put on my blue crÊpe which I like a heap. I felt just fine, and knew that I looked well; and that gave me confidence. Confidence in its turn made me do well with the dissertation. I don’t mean by that that just dressing up without knowing anything would have enabled me to put the dissertation over; but being pretty well prepared, and being conscious of looking well, worked together. Do you see?” “Why, I guess so; but you do an awful lot of fussing over yourself, Nan.” “No, I really don’t, Emma. I simply make an effort to live up to all the modern ideas of health and cleanliness, and to have as good clothes as I can afford; and take care of them. That is what every girl in our crowd does.” “I read a story the other day,” Nancy continued, after a pause during which Emma was apparently doing some thinking, “about a girl in some college or other who had a special gift for making people look their best; and she worked up a regular business. The girls were glad to pay her for helping them choose clothes especially suited to their individual types, and to advise them concerning their style of hairdressing, as well as the question of manicures, powders, perfumes, etc.” “What a funny business,” was Emma’s sole comment. Obviously she was somewhat bored, and anxious to go to sleep. “Seriously, Emma,” went on Nancy, almost in desperation—wasn’t it possible to make a dent on this girl at all?—“if you can afford to spend a little, why don’t you get all fixed up this summer and create a sensation when you go back to college in the fall?” “Create a sensation.” That was a clever idea. Nancy had quite unconsciously hit upon a phase of the situation which was most likely to make an impression on her indifferent protÉgÉe. Emma had always been eager to attract the attention of her fellow students, even if she could not secure their affection. Her own methods had proved a complete failure. No harm to try someone else’s now. “It would be fun,” she answered, showing more than a spark of interest. “And I can afford it all right.” “Then let’s do it!” urged Nancy. “We’ll begin right away to-morrow. Janie and I shall just love helping you; that is, if you will let us,” she added somewhat doubtfully. She mustn’t go too fast. “Oh, I shall. Now I’ve decided upon such a course, I’ll let you manage everything. You two know more about such things than I do.” “I can hardly wait for morning!” cried Nancy enthusiastically some minutes later, as they settled down for sleep. “Moms, we’re going downtown this morning,” said Nancy at the breakfast table. She had already telephoned Jeanette the good news, and secured a promise of her company for the day. “We have a lot to do,” she went on; “and if you don’t mind, I think we’ll have lunch at Sloan’s.” “Of course, I don’t mind in the least. But you are not going to buy your fall outfit so early, I hope.” “No,” laughed Nancy. “I need a summer one first; but I want to talk over my wardrobe with you first. Emma is going to do the shopping to-day——” “Don’t tell her! Don’t tell her!” begged Emma. “Let’s surprise her.” “All right,” agreed Nancy, as they arose from the table. “Hurry and get ready. I told Janie we’d stop for her at half-past eight, and it’s twenty after now.” It was a little after eight thirty when the three girls turned out of the Grant yard, and headed for the near-by car line. The car was crowded, and they could not get seats together; so there was no further opportunity for conversation until they got off on Main Street. “Where first?” inquired Jeanette. “To the Salon of Monsieur Louis. We haven’t any appointment; but he is rarely busy so early as this, and I am in hopes he will attend to us himself.” “Bon jour, bon jour!” The little proprietor of the beauty parlor came toward them, rubbing his hands together as they entered his mauve and pink waiting room. “And what ees it that I may do for you ce matin?” “This lady wants one of your marvelous hair cuts, Monsieur,” said Nancy, drawing Emma forward; “and then a permanent.” “Oui, oui; in here plees.” He settled her in one of the little booths, and proceeded to give her a most fashionable cut, after studying her from all angles. Nancy had been somewhat afraid that Emma would protest against the discomfort involved in obtaining a permanent wave; but she sat rigid, and, for once, quite speechless. “She looks scared,” commented Jeanette, peering in from the waiting room where she and Nancy sat completing the day’s plans. “She probably is,” said Nancy emphatically. “I know I felt almost afraid to breathe when I was having my first one. I believe I thought I might be electrocuted when the current was turned on.” “I hope her head looks well; so we can make a fuss over it and encourage her to go on with the making-over process. Don’t you?” “I certainly do; but I think she’ll go on all right,” replied Nancy. “It is hard trying to undo the habits of years in so short a time. The buying of new clothes is fairly simple, but getting her to take proper care of them, and making her see that daily baths, frequent manicures, and the use of various creams and powders are essential—that is an entirely different matter. Sometimes when I see her attitude, I feel quite hopeless, and wonder if we shall ever accomplish anything.” “Poor Nancy!” said Jeanette. A little later Jeanette commented, “Her table manners are not bad——” “Thank goodness for that,” said Nancy fervently. “But she laughs so loudly,” went on Jeanette, “and tries to be so demonstrative with people, even when she is not very well acquainted with them, that it is, well, embarrassing, to say the least.” “I know it,” agreed Nancy; “and she is really very careless about putting away her various belongings. I can readily understand why her things always look so—so bedraggled! I’m not talking about her to be mean, but I am trying to pick out the habits that are different from those of other nice girls so we can concentrate on them.” At last the dryer completed its work, and after a few finishing touches by Monsieur Louis, Emma was released. “Oh, Emma, it’s lovely!” cried Nancy in genuine admiration, as she came out and stood before them. “What a difference it makes; doesn’t it, Janie?” “It certainly does,” agreed Jeanette. “The style suits you perfectly.” How glad Jeanette was that she could make the statement honestly! “Don’t you like it, Emma?” asked Nancy anxiously; for the girl was unnaturally quiet. “Yes, I think so. But to tell the truth, I feel a little dazed.” “Oh, that’s part of the process,” said Nancy, relieved. “It comes from being under the dryer so long. The noise combined with the heat is rather stupefying. You’ll wake up when we get out into the air.” Monsieur Louis bowed them out, and they hurried toward the elevator. “I think we had better have lunch now,” said Nancy, when they were once more on Main Street. “Shall we go to Sloan’s, Janie?” “It is as good as any other place near by; and then we’ll be right in the building where we intend to do most of our shopping.” Soon they were seated in the big tea room, with menus in front of them. “This is my party,” announced Emma. “Janie and I usually go ‘Dutch,’” said Nancy; “but you are our guest this time.” “You can go ‘Dutch’ any other time you like,” replied Emma; “but even though I am your guest, this lunch is on me—a sort of celebration.” While they ate they made out a list of exactly what Emma needed, which was pretty much a complete outfit. “But we can never do all this in one day,” said Janie, looking in dismay at the long list. “Well, there are lots of days coming,” said Nancy, laughing. “We’ll go as far as we can to-day, and then ‘continue it in our next’ like the serial stories.” “Nan, dear,” protested Jeanette, gently, “don’t laugh quite so loudly.” Nancy looked up in astonishment, for her laughter had been perfectly modulated. Jeanette looked at her intently for a moment; then she understood. “You’re right, Janie,” she said. “I should have been more careful.” “Why, what’s the difference?” demanded Emma in a puzzled tone. “Good breeding forbids a loud laugh anywhere, but most of all in a public place,” explained Jeanette. “It does not harm anyone,” persisted Emma. “Only one’s self. A real lady tries not to attract attention or make herself conspicuous,” said Jeanette patiently. “Loud laughing or talking is not good form, in public places especially.” “And you see,” went on Nancy, “Janie and I know each other so well that we are quite at liberty to offer corrections when they seem in order. We agreed to that many years ago. The people we are with see many of our faults which we are unconscious of; and it helps a lot to have someone who really cares, tell us about them.” Emma said no more on the subject; but the girls noticed after that a tendency to lower her voice and check her laughter. Nancy and Jeanette had been early trained to buy wisely and well, and knew good values as well as up-to-the-minute styles. All the rest of the day was spent in obtaining a coat, a couple of hats, gloves, and footwear. “To-morrow,” said Nancy, when they were riding home, “we’ll go down again and get underwear and dresses—I just love to buy dresses!” “Then next day,” added Jeanette, “Emma can have a manicure, and get a bag and the other things that we’ve forgotten; then she’ll be all fixed, outside.” “Outside?” repeated Emma, somewhat puzzled. “Well, you see,” replied Nancy lightly, “there are various personal and social customs which should go with a lovely wardrobe like yours; and you’ll want to adopt them, I’m sure. Janie is awfully good at that sort of thing, and you’ll learn lots when you are with her.” “That’s so! My visit at your house is nearly over. I’ve had such a lovely time that I hate to leave; though, of course, I’m glad to stay with the rest of the girls too.” The remainder of that week and the next passed more quickly than the girls had thought possible. They had just seen Emma off on the night train, which would get her to Plattsburg early the following morning, where Ethel King would meet her and drive her to the King cottage on the shore of Lake Champlain. “Well, Janie?” said Nancy, as they came out of the station. “Well, Nancy?” replied Jeanette. “It’s over.” “Yes; and how much of an impression do you suppose we’ve made—lasting impression, I mean?” “A decided one, I think. You, poor dear, had a harder time than I did.” “Why?” asked Jeanette, in surprise. “Because you had to be a kind of habits-and-manners instructor, while I was only a costumer.” “Oh; but Mother helped me a lot. She was very lovely to Emma, and really did much for her. Mother is so tactful, you know.” “Yes; and she is something like Miss Ashton in her affection for and interest in young girls; isn’t she?” “Something; even more so, I think, since Georgia disappeared.” Georgia Crane was a girl whom Nancy and Jeanette had met under rather odd circumstances during their Sophomore year at Roxford. After a time she had gone to board with Mrs. Grant, who mothered her very much as she did her own daughter. Due to an unfortunate misunderstanding, Georgia left their house one night, without their knowledge, and, despite their efforts to find her, had never been heard of since. “I wish I knew where she is.” “So do I. Do you suppose she will ever come back?” “I doubt it; but I feel quite sure that we shall hear from her or run across her sometime; probably when we least expect it.” “Now for our own shopping, and preparations for our trip.” “I’m just crazy to go!” Nancy gave vent to her pleasant anticipation by dancing a few steps, to the great disapproval of the man in front of her, upon whose heels she trod. “We had a letter from Miss Ashton to-day,” said Jeanette, when they had stopped giggling over the look the man gave Nancy. “And what did she say?” asked Nan eagerly. “She has engaged a stateroom on one of the boats from Boston to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, for the tenth of August. Madelon has gone back to Beaupre for a couple of weeks——” “What for?” interrupted Nancy, in disgust. “Her foster mother is ill; and, since her daughter has married and gone to live at Batiscan, she is lonely. Madelon could not withstand her appeal for a short visit.” “She was ready enough to get rid of Madelon when she didn’t need her!” said Nancy, vehemently. Then she added, “But, of course, she doubtless did do a lot for Madelon when she was little; and I do admire her for going back, in spite of the way she treated her in later years.” “Well, anyhow,” continued Jeanette, “Madelon will be back in Boston about the first of August; and Miss Ashton suggested that we go down about that time, or a few days later, so as to have a little time to look about Boston before we sail.” “‘Sail!’ Doesn’t that sound exciting?” “But don’t get your hopes of the trip up too high, Nan; that is, the ocean part of it. I understand it is often quite rough; so there is quite a possibility of being sick.” “Oh, Janie, be an optimist! I read recently that seasickness is nothing more than a condition of the mind. We just won’t be sick.” “Coming in?” asked Jeanette, as they passed in front of her house, which they reached at that point in their discussion. “No, not to-night. I’m going home and visit with Mother and Dad. I have hardly seen them alone since our guest arrived.” “All right. I’ll see you sometime to-morrow, then.” “Yes; and we’ll make a list of what we are going to need for our travels.” CHAPTER III BON VOYAGE “There is one thing I must have,” decreed Nancy, a few days later, as she and Jeanette were setting out on one of their frequent shopping excursions. “What’s that?” “A new suitcase.” “But Nan,” objected Jeanette, “you bought one when we went to New Orleans!” “I know it; and when I got home from college this June, someone had kindly put a hole right through the side of it. Under the circumstances, even a person as economically-minded as you are, must admit that I can’t carry a suitcase in such a condition. I saw a new kind advertised the other day, called a wardrobe suitcase; and I thought we’d go to Leonard’s now and look at one. Dad said he would buy it for me as a sort of going-away present, if it doesn’t cost too much.” Before long they were in the luggage store, listening to the persuasive voice of the salesman, who was enlarging on the advantages of that particular type of suitcase. “It is lovely,” agreed Jeanette, as Nancy exclaimed over the little compartment for shoes, and a larger one for hats and underwear. “And you see,” continued the clerk, “this rod in the cover lifts out so you can hang several dresses on it, by folding them once; then you put the rod back, press it in, snap these elastic bands across, and your clothing will come out without a wrinkle.” The price of the suitcase was not prohibitive, since a special sale was going on; so Nancy bought it, and left it to be marked. “Now where?” asked Jeanette. “Dresses at Sloan’s. I’ll have to get some kind of a cool silk to travel in.” “And I must buy a silk hat.” “I wanted a new formal gown,” continued Nancy; “but Mother convinced me that it would be better to take the rose chiffon and the cream lace that I had at college, and get new evening dresses before we go back for our Senior year.” “That’s what my mother said too; so my blue and silver georgette and my flowered chiffon will keep company with yours. At least they will feel at home together. What about sports clothes?” “I’m to get material for two dresses to-day; and Mother is going to make them. I want a white crÊpe de chine, and a blue something or other.” “I hope you find the blue without any difficulty,” laughed Jeanette. “I am going to use the red and white printed silk that I had last year, and buy a white ‘something or other.’” “Then we both have pleated skirts and sweaters for the boat, and I’m going to stick in my printed crÊpe. Why don’t you take yours too?” “They would be awfully handy for filling in, even if they are old,” admitted Jeanette. “Anyway, they look well; so no one but you and me will know that they’re not new.” “Mother thought that would be plenty to take in the line of dresses. I’ll wear my travel coat, of course, and put the white flannel in my new wardrobe suitcase.” “How proudly you say that!” “We really could manage better if we took one trunk, as we did to New Orleans——” “Yes, but Miss Ashton thought that since we’d be moving about so much in Nova Scotia, it would be much better to take just suitcases; and, she added, as few as possible.” “Have you heard anything more from her? This is the first of August.” “No, we haven't. Perhaps there will be some word when I get home.” After dinner that evening, the Grant family strolled down to the Pembroke home. “Oh, come in, come in,” said Mr. Pembroke, holding open the screen door. “I was very late in getting home, and we’re still at table; but you won’t mind coming out into the dining room.” “And you’re just in time to have dessert with us,” said Mrs. Pembroke, making room for them at the table. “But we’ve had our dinner,” protested Mrs. Grant. “Even so, you can surely eat some lemon sherbet,” said Nancy. “Mother made heaps of it to-day.” “I never could refuse sherbet,” sighed Jeanette. “I just love it.” Nothing was said about their real errand until the sherbet was finished, and they had all gathered on the wide front porch where the moon, shining through the vines, made a leafy pattern on the floor. “We heard from Lois to-day,” began Mrs. Grant. “We’re not going!” thought Nancy, quick to detect the reluctant note in her voice. “Things are not going to work out quite the way she hoped,” went on Jeanette’s mother. “Madelon, poor child, feels that she can not possibly leave her foster mother this summer——” “How is that?” asked Mrs. Pembroke. “It seems that the woman is laid up with an attack of rheumatism, and has no one to take care of her——” “But where is her husband?” interrupted Nancy. “He has to work in the fields, getting in the winter crops; so she is alone all day long,” replied Mrs. Grant. “Madelon wrote Lois that she herself is terribly disappointed at having to give up the Nova Scotia trip, but since her foster mother was so very good to her when she was little, she really felt it would not be right to leave her in this emergency. And I’m afraid we shall all have to admit that she is right.” “The poor child!” murmured Mrs. Pembroke. “Yes, I feel very sorry for her, especially since I imagine, from what Lois says, that her patient is very impatient.” “However,” continued Mrs. Grant briskly, after a few minutes’ silence, “we cannot help Madelon by giving up our own plans. Lois suggests that the girls ask one of their friends to take Madelon’s place, since there are two staterooms reserved——” “Martha!” cried Nancy and Jeanette in one breath. “Let’s wire her right away!” exclaimed Nancy, jumping up. “Just a minute,” protested Mrs. Grant, catching hold of Nancy’s arm. “Lois is unfortunately out on a case, and will be able to get off only in time to meet you girls at the boat. She closed the apartment for the rest of the summer, before she left, thinking that Madelon would be back to entertain you; but——” “Oh, that’s all right; we can go to a hotel,” interrupted Nancy. “Is it necessary to stay overnight in Boston?” inquired Mrs. Pembroke, anxiously. “Is is if they go down by day,” replied her husband. “And we want to,” said Nancy quickly. “I hate to travel at night. You never sleep well, and you don’t see a thing!” “It will be all right,” said Mr. Grant. “They will have to learn how to look after themselves sometime. Why not begin now?” “Good for you!” cried Nancy. “One would think we had never gone anywhere alone. Remember the Rideau? And way down to New Orleans? And we didn’t get into any difficulties. We may stay at the hotel overnight; mayn’t we, Moms?” “If the rest of you are satisfied, I suppose so,” replied her mother, somewhat reluctantly. “Under the circumstances,” said Mrs. Grant, “I thought it would be better to omit the sight-seeing trip, and go down on Saturday. The boat sails Sunday afternoon. Perhaps when you get back, Lois will be able to go about the city with you,” she added, seeing the disappointed looks on the faces of both girls. “Come on, Janie, help me wire Martha now that we have full particulars to give her,” urged Nancy. “Let’s write a letter, so we can tell her everything. If we put a special delivery stamp on it, and run downtown to mail it, she’ll get it in the morning.” This was done; and the nest day a wire arrived from Martha, reading
So busy were the girls during the next few days that time simply raced along; and almost before they realized it, they were on the train bound for Boston. “We’ve chased around so constantly for the past week,” said Nancy, when the yards were left behind and the train began to speed up, “that I’m dead.” “So am I. Those last two parties nearly finished me.” “Imagine, having one last night and one the night before! It is awfully nice of people to entertain for us, but shouldn’t you think that they would know we’d be too busy for such things?” “Yes; but since they were given especially for us, we could hardly do other than go.” “No-o-o,” yawned Nancy. “But I’m going to make up a little sleep between here and Albany. We’ve seen this road before. Then when we get to the Berkshires, I’ll be all rested and be able to enjoy them.” The day passed quickly and quietly, for the girls were really very, tired. But riding on a good train is soothing; so when they came to a stop in the big South Station, they felt equal to anything. Close to the main entrance to the waiting room, they spied Martha; and the three fell upon one another regardless of the crowd hurrying in both directions. In a short time they were in their rooms at the hotel—a single and a double, with a bath between. “Let’s get something to eat before we unpack and go to bed,” proposed Nancy. “We had so much sweet stuff on the train, that I feel the need of hot muffins and tea. And I do hope they have toasted English muffins here. I just love ’em with nice, hot, Orange Pekoe tea, with a thick slice of lemon floating around in it.” “I want a club sandwich,” declared Martha, as they seated themselves at a small table in the cafÉ of the hotel. “I’m going to order chicken bouillon and rolls,” decided Jeanette. “Isn’t it funny, no matter how much we like sweets, it is so easy to tire of them?” They went out for a little walk, and then went to their rooms, after which each of the girls wrote a short note home letting their people know that they had “arrived safely.” “Now, I’ll unpack both cases, while you take a bath, Janie,” said Nancy. “Then, while I bathe, you can put the clothes away.” Jeanette shut herself in the bathroom, but presently Nancy came to the door. “Janie, do you know where the key to my suitcase is?” “No. You put it in your bag when we left home; and if it isn’t there, then I don’t know where it is.” “Well, it isn’t there.” “Look again, Nanny,” advised Jeanette; for Nan was always losing things, and then discovering them in some odd corner. When she came out of the bathroom, however, a distressed, pale-faced Nancy was bending over the contents of her bag, which she had turned out on the dresser. “I’ve looked everywhere, Janie; and it simply isn’t anywhere. I must have pulled it out of my bag with a handkerchief, or tickets, or something, and lost it. What shall I do?” “It’s lucky you put your night things in with mine, so you can get along without your case to-night.” Jeanette was carrying a hat box, besides her suitcase; and the girls had used it in common, so as not to have to unpack everything at each stop. “Yes,” wailed Nancy, “but I haven’t a dress to wear to church to-morrow; or a hat.” “Well, we’ll try to have it opened; but if we can’t, you’ll just have to wear what you wore to-day,” replied Jeanette, going to the telephone. The hotel locksmith came up; and, after working for some time, he said that much as he hated to do it, he’d have to force the locks. “And don’t close that,” he advised them on leaving the room, “until you are sure you want it closed; for it may lock again.” By that time it was nearly midnight; and the girls fell asleep as soon as their heads touched the pillows. The following morning was spent in going to church, and wandering about the streets near the hotel. “I wish we could take a ride somewhere,” said Nancy, looking longingly at the big sight-seeing busses which were rolling in all directions. “So do I; but we might not get back in time to sail,” replied Jeanette. “It is nearly lunch time now; and you know we were going to get on board early. Miss Ashton is to meet us there an hour before sailing time.” “Curtis wrote me,” observed Nancy, as they reentered their hotel, “to have a very light, simple lunch; and to go easy on the first meal on shipboard.” “Why?” demanded Martha. “Does he think you ought to go on a diet?” “No, goose; so we’d be less likely to be sick. He didn’t mean just me; he meant all of us.” “Well, grateful as I am for his advice, I’m starved; and I’m going to eat.” “All right, Mart,” laughed Nancy; “but don’t say that you weren’t warned.” The luncheon menu was very attractive; but Nancy and Jeanette sternly repressed their desires for a quantity of rich food. They ate simple things, and ate them sparingly. Immediately after luncheon they packed; and as Nancy closed her suitcase, sure enough, it locked! “Don’t worry,” advised Jeanette. “You won’t need it on the steamer; and somebody in Nova Scotia will be able to open it. Anyway, you couldn’t have carried it about with you with the lid open.” “But the customs!” “Let the customs officer open it. He’ll have all kinds of keys.” “But he’ll think I’m smuggling in Heaven knows what.” “Then it’ll be a good joke on him when he doesn’t find anything,” chimed in Martha. “You should worry.” On the dock, Miss Ashton was waiting for them; and after greetings were over, they gave their luggage to a porter. After going through several passages, sheds, and gates, they finally went up the gangplank, and on board. Their two staterooms were nearly opposite each other, on the main deck. “Who is going to be my partner?” inquired Miss Ashton, looking at the three girls. “I, if you want me,” replied Martha. “It would be a crime to separate the two inseparables.” “That was nice of Mart,” whispered Nancy, as they entered their stateroom, and put things in order. “We must go up on the promenade deck, girls,” called Miss Ashton presently, “and get our chairs placed where we want them. The crowds will soon be coming on board, and the desirable places will all be taken.” They decided on the right side of the steamer, near an enclosed portion of the deck, which would help keep off some of the wind. “We’d better each have a rug, too,” said Miss Ashton, to the deck steward, who was putting tags on the chairs. “What are those for?” asked Martha. “Your stateroom number is on the tag; and no one but the holder of that room can use the chair. There is no danger, then, of finding it occupied when you come back from a stroll.” The girls walked about in the sunshine, inspecting the boat and their fellow passengers, and looking at Boston, spread out along the water front. Down at the purser’s office was the usual crowd trying to straighten out reservations; to get a better stateroom, or to get some kind of accommodations when there were no more to be had. Women with small children wandered aimlessly about the steamer, or found cozy corners in which to settle down. Many of the passengers watched from the port side while dozens of automobiles were put on board. A small baby cooed delightedly over its bottle, as it lay on a settee in the salon, blissfully oblivious of the noise and confusion all about. Soon came the cry—“All ashore who are going ashore!” Passengers bade good-bye to friends and relatives who had accompanied them on board. The great cables were released, the gangplank was pulled in, and the steamer began to move slowly and majestically away from the wharf. |
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