Part 5 (1/2)
”But the hardest-that was for me-” exclaimed Grace (Nathalie bent forward eagerly, for somehow she did like Grace), ”was to earn or to save fifty cents and put it in the bank.” There was a general shout at this, for, as Helen explained in an aside to Nathalie, Grace was the richest girl in the Pioneer group. She had a beautiful home, her own automobile, her own allowance, and yet she was always hard up.
”She's awfully generous, you know, and doesn't know how to count her pennies,” she added wisely, ”the way we girls do, because we have to.
But she's learning.”
But Helen's whispered comments about her friend were not all heard by Nathalie, who suddenly stiffened, and with a quick exclamation leaned forward and stared curiously at a gray figure that was walking past the house with strained, averted eyes, as if fearful that she might see the group of merry girls on the veranda.
”Who is that lady all in gray?” she demanded, abruptly clutching Helen's arm as her eyes followed the gliding figure of the strange-appearing woman whose library card she had found the day of her accident in the woods.
Helen looked up quickly in response to Nathalie's question, but before she could answer, Kitty Corwin cried hastily, ”Girls, look! there goes 'The Mystic'!”
CHAPTER IV-NATHALIE IS ASKED TO BECOME A BLUE ROBIN
”The Mystic!” echoed Nathalie in mild amazement, while one or two of the group turned and gazed curiously at the gray-shrouded figure hurrying by.
”You needn't ask me to look at her,” a.s.serted the Sport with a scowl, ”after s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up my courage as I did to ask her if we could use her terraced lawn for one of our drills; why, the glance she gave me almost froze me stiff!”
The girls laughed at Edith's tragic tone, while Lillie Bell retorted teasingly, ”Well, she must be a chill-raiser, Edith, if she could freeze the marrow in your spine.”
”Girls, you should not speak as you do about Mrs. Van Vorst,” admonished Helen, ”you know Mrs. Morrow says that she has suffered a great sorrow.”
”Pshaw, we all know that,” returned the Sport unfeelingly, ”but that is no reason why she should make every one else suffer, too.”
”Granted,” rejoined Helen, ”but she has grown to look at things through morbid eyes.”
”I should think the gray gown she wears would make any one morbid,”
suggested Lillie. ”But what is the use of discussing her? I believe she is just a crank with a fad,” she added.
”Who is she, and why does she go about in that queer gray gown?”
inquired Nathalie, insistently.
”She is Mrs. Van Vorst, the richest woman in town,” explained Grace.
”She lives in that big, gray house surrounded by the stone wall. Haven't you noticed it? It's on Willow Street, up on the hill. You must have seen it.”
”Oh, the big house with the beautiful Dutch garden,” exclaimed Nathalie, ”and the queer little house at one side of it?”
”Yes,” nodded Helen, ”but that queer little house is an ancient landmark-a Dutch homestead-built on a grant of land given by Governor Stuyvesant to Janse Van Vorst way back in 1667. The Van Vorsts, or their descendants, have lived on that place for hundreds of years. Billy Van Vorst, the last of the line, married Betty Walton, a rich New York girl.
He died some years ago, and-well, I don't know the exact story-” Helen hesitated, ”but they say Mrs. Van Vorst has an awful temper-oh, I hate to tell it-and then it may not be true.”
”But it is true,” a.s.serted Jessie Ford, ”for Mother used to know Billy and Betty, too. She said shortly after Billy's death Mrs. Van Vorst became angry with her little child-I don't know whether it is a boy or girl-and-”
”Whatever it is,” broke in Edith, ”it is all distorted and twisted, looks like a monster, for I saw it one day in the garden, the day I was there. It is always m.u.f.fled up so people can't see it.”
”Well, anyway,” went on Jessie, ”Mrs. Van Vorst got into a temper with the child and shut it up in a dark room, and then went off to a reception or something, and forgot all about it.”
”Oh, how could she?” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Nathalie with a shudder.