Part 20 (2/2)

”You mean Uncle Isaac is dead?”

”Yes!”

”What was the matter? When did you hear?”

”A cablegram states he was killed in a recent battle,” and Mr. Pore went on making neat piles on the counter with cans of salmon. I wanted to shake him for more news that I felt sure he had.

Annie took off her hat and tied on an ap.r.o.n ready to help in the arduous task of taking stock. Tweedles and Mary and I stood in the doorway as dumb as fish. Why should a man whose brother had recently died in England feel a necessity of taking stock in a country store? It was too much for us. Suddenly it flashed through my brain that maybe Mr. Pore was going to England. His brother, Sir Isaac Pore, had a son, so Annie had told me, who was, of course, in line for the t.i.tle.

Mr. Pore finished with the salmon and then spoke with his usual pomposity: ”The message also states that my brother's only son has met with an untimely death in the Dardanelles.”

Annie dropped a box of soap and stood looking with big eyes at her father.

”I find it necessary that we go to England, and before we go, I deem it advisable to make an inventory of our goods and chattels.”

”Go to England! When?” gasped Annie.

”I fancy we can arrange to be off in about a week.”

This was news that touched all of us. Annie going to England! We might never see her again, and her dried-up old father was standing there announcing this fact with as much composure as though he had decided to move his store across the road or do something else equally ordinary.

”You see,” he continued with his grandiloquent manner, ”the demise of my brother and his son, who is unmarried, advance me to the baronetcy, and----”

”Then you are Sir Arthur Ponsonby Pore!” blurted out Dum.

”Exactly!” he announced calmly, as though he had been inheriting t.i.tles all his life.

”Is Annie Lady Anna then?” asked Mary.

”No, she is still Miss Pore. Only a son inherits a t.i.tle from a baronet,” he said with a trace of bitterness. I remembered what Annie had told me of her brother's death and her father's resentment of her being a girl.

”Well, she would make a lovely Lady Annie all the same,” said Dee. ”I bet everybody in England will just about go crazy about her.”

”Ah, indeed!” was his supercilious remark to this effusion.

”We are going to come down and help you, Annie,” I whispered. ”I know there are lots of things we can do. You will need help about your clothes. I can't sew, but I can count clothes-pins and chewing-gum while you sew. Don't you want us to help, Mr. Pore?”

That gentleman was as usual quite dumbfounded by being treated like an ordinary human being, and with some hemming and hawing he finally acknowledged that our a.s.sistance would be acceptable. His idea was to sell his business and stock to the highest bidder.

Great was the consternation and surprise at Maxton when we announced the choice bit of news that we had picked up that morning before breakfast.

Sleepy looked as though he might have apoplexy, his face got so red and his hand trembled so. Harvie got pale and suddenly realized that Annie was not just a little sister. Poor Rags put maple syrup in his coffee and cream on his waffle in the excitement occasioned by the unwelcome news.

They were at breakfast when we burst in on them, at breakfast and rather sore with all of us for having run off without them. Jessie was holding the fort alone, the only female present, as Miss Maria was still unable to get up. That beautiful young lady was looking lovelier than ever in a crisp handkerchief-linen frock. Her curls were very curly and her lovely brunette complexion not at all the worse for the scorching sun of the day before. My poor nose had six more freckles than when I came to Maxton, six more by actual count, and there was not room for the extra ones at all. Mary's freckles were like the stars in the sky, every time you looked you could find another; Dee had her share, too; and Dum had begun to peel as was her habit. Jessie was pretty, very pretty, but the picture of her with her face all greased up and the tick-like curlers covering her head would arise whenever I looked at her.

”Why doesn't Mr. Pore leave Annie here with us until the submarine warfare is over with?” asked Mr. Tucker.

”We never thought of suggesting it,” tweedled the twins.

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