Part 16 (1/2)
A rustling indicated that the caller, her errand accomplished, had risen to go. She shot her last tiny, poisoned arrow. ”Of _course_ I said to Cyrus _all_ of us on the Island know all that poor Miss Leavitt's _had_ to stand, what with her brother and _then_ her sister!
And _that's_ why, I said to Cyrus, Miss Leavitt _ought_ to know about these goings on, or else something _else_ would come down on your poor head! I must run along, now, 'Manthy came in to watch my jam. That Carroll girl I got over at Greenfield isn't worth her keep--you have to watch her _every_ moment!”
All the pride of generations of Leavitts must have come to Miss Sabrina's rescue at that moment! She met the final thrust with calm dignity.
”My niece is only making me a very short visit, Mrs. Eaton. It is hardly worth while for me to interfere with her conduct.”
Nancy was struck dumb with amazement. What did Aunt Sabrina mean--that _this_ silly little affair ended her stay at Happy House? What _would_ Anne think? Oh, _what_ a mess she had made of everything! Of course she had expected that something might happen any moment; after one day had safely pa.s.sed, she had always thought it might be the next; had she not told Anne that she was certain to make some dreadful blunder? But it was a shame to go away in disgrace when she had not really done anything, after all!
Indignation of the most righteous sort began slowly to master Nancy's consternation. Well, if she did have to go she would allow herself, just once, the sweet satisfaction of telling Miss Sabrina what she thought of the Leavitts and their sense of honor! She rushed headlong into the sitting-room.
”I heard what that--that creature said,” she blurted out. ”I don't _know _why G.o.d makes women like that! What would you _think_, Aunt Sabrina, if you'd seen her take a whip and lash those children across their bare bodies? And that wouldn't have been as bad as what she really _did_ do, for those hurts would have healed, and the way she hurt their spirits wouldn't _ever_ heal! She is cruelly unjust--and unkind!”
Poor Miss Sabrina looked very old and very tired--far too tired to meet this impetuous attack! Something in the unyieldingness of her expression drove Nancy to utter abandon.
”Oh, I suppose I'll have--to go away! But I'm glad--everything is all wrong at Happy House. There's no happiness here--at all.
Fath--someone I love used to tell me that happiness comes to you as you _give_ happiness, and that's what's the matter here--you don't give happiness! You live--apart--and you just wrap yourself round with the traditions of the Leavitts and all that--tommyrot! I'm glad I'm not--a--I'm glad I'm the--the other branch. I guess the golden rule is better than any family honor and that it doesn't matter at _all_ what all the people who are dead and gone've done--it's what the people who are _living_ are doing--that counts!”
Breathless from her outburst and frightened by its daring, Nancy burst into tears and rushed from the room.
In the aftermath of calm that followed the storm, Nancy woefully faced the consequences of what she had done. How silly it would all sound to Anne when she heard it! Anne would tell her, of course, what _she_ would have done--but then, Anne had always been able to control every word and every action.
Nancy, staring about at the four walls of her room in very much the same way she had done that first day of her coming to Happy House, realized that they were not so ugly, after all. Their height gave a sense of coolness and s.p.a.ce; the branches of an old cherry tree brushed her windows; from below came all sorts of sweet smells out of Jonathan's garden; the incessant twittering of birds and the humming of insects made the summer air teem with busy, happy life. It was pleasant, she sighed--much pleasanter than a flat in Harlem in July!
”Well, I won't pack until I get my dishonorable discharge, and I can't get away until Webb's stage goes, anyway! I'll take Miss Milly once more to the orchard.”
Miss Milly went to the orchard so often now that it had become a part of almost every day's routine, and it was no longer necessary that B'lindy and Jonathan should make up the party, though they went more often than not. This day Aunt Milly declared everything particularly nice, but she thought it was because she and Nancy were alone--she could not know that Nancy had been doing her best to make it an afternoon Aunt Milly would never forget--”because it's probably the last!”
They lingered in the orchard until almost supper-time. Then Nancy sought the kitchen. She liked to drop in on B'lindy, help her in some small way in the preparation of the evening meal, and chat at the same time. She was astounded, now, to find Aunt Sabrina, with a very red face, bending over the kitchen stove.
B'lindy, sitting very straight in the chair by the window, gave the explanation--resentfully.
”'Pears to be hash ain't good enough for supper. Had it all fixed for the cookin' and I guess it's fair 'nough for anyone to eat and I can't abide left-overs hangin' 'round. But Miss S'briny says the supper to-night's got to be extry nice and Miss Anne's got to have waffles and _she'll_ cook 'em herself, seein' how old B'lindy that's cooked 'em nigh onto fifty years, can't cook 'em _good_ 'nough for Miss Anne!”
Miss Sabrina's face was bent over the waffles--Nancy could not see it.
The moment was too solemn to permit her to so much as smile. She said very gravely, almost reprovingly:
”You _know_, B'lindy, that you _can't_ make waffles as good as Aunt Sabrina can and I've been hungry for days for waffles!”
Nancy knew that, after that night, waffles would always mean something more to her than merely a concoction of food stuffs particularly dear to her palate--they'd mean the momentary triumph of reason and justice, the defeat of the Mrs. Eaton-kind, and the pitiful attempt of a very old and a very proud woman to ”give happiness.”
CHAPTER XV
GUNS AND STRING BEANS
”Claire darling--
”Almost two weeks since I wrote to you. Will you love me any more?
”As I write I am all alone on the edge of a very little pool of light reflected from my little lamp that was only intended to see me into bed and not to burn half the night through while I write to my pal.