Part 9 (1/2)
Jack burst into relieved laughter.
”Judith's a game little thing,” he said to his mother later on; ”I suppose we shouldn't have left them so soon, but she seemed to get the hang of it very quickly--she slid into that bank as neatly as an arrow--I'm mighty glad she isn't hurt.”
Judith could hardly keep her eyes open at the dinner-table, and she was glad enough to accept Mrs. Nairn's suggestion that she go to bed early.
Nancy and Sally May perched on the foot of the bed ready to talk over the day's happenings, but found to their astonishment that Judy seemed asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. They tiptoed gently away, but they need not have been afraid of wakening her.
”Doesn't she look sweet?” whispered loyal Nancy to Sally May as she turned off the bedside lamp. Judith was smiling happily, for in her dreams she was flying, flying through sunlit skies, and Tim, of the grey eyes and the half friendly, half quizzical smile, was flying beside her.
CHAPTER VIII
CASTLES IN THE AIR
NEXT morning Judith could scarcely move; her limbs were stiff from the unaccustomed exercise and one shoulder was bruised and wrenched from her fall, so Mrs. Nairn kept her in bed all morning and gave her much petting and mothering.
The plans for the afternoon had included a skating party on the river, ending with a drive out to the Nairns' summer cottage, which had been opened in preparation for this week of winter sports. A neighbouring farmer's wife had promised to have a roaring fire ready for the skaters when they should appear about five o'clock, and the farmer himself was to meet them at the river with his big sleigh. Clearly Judith could not skate to-day, so other plans were made for her. Nancy, of course, must be with the skaters, since she was the hostess, but Sally May insisted on staying at home with Judith. Naturally this embarra.s.sed Judith, for she knew that Sally May loved skating, and an outdoor party of this kind would be a novelty to a Southerner. Finally Jack talked things over with his mother, and, as Judith declared that she was well enough to go, Mrs. Nairn agreed that she should drive with Jack to the cottage and he would leave her there with Mme. Berthier, while he rejoined the skaters on the river.
Tim, to Judith's disappointment, declared that he had an engagement and couldn't come.
”I can't think what's happening to Tim,” grumbled Nancy as they changed into warm clothes for their long drive; ”usually he's a dear about helping to entertain, but he's not a bit like himself, he looks so glum and 'grouchy.'”
”Oh, Nancy!” Judith protested, ”I don't see how you can say such a thing! I think he looks just lovely!”
”Just lovely,” Nancy laughed wickedly; ”he'll be pleased when I tell him.”
Poor Judith crimsoned.
”Oh, Nancy,” she begged, ”you wouldn't, surely you wouldn't. I just meant that he had nice eyes.”
But Nancy would make no promises.
Promptly after an early lunch the skaters set off, and Jack appeared with a horse and a little old-fas.h.i.+oned cutter which he had borrowed from an uncle who scorned motors and still clung to his horse. Judith was tucked up in a fur robe in the cutter and off they went.
[Ill.u.s.tration: JUDITH WAS TUCKED UP IN A FUR ROBE IN THE CUTTER AND OFF THEY WENT]
”It's almost as good as skiing or flying,” laughed Judith as the light sleigh flew over the snow and the bells on the horse jingled a merry accompaniment to their talk. It was another day of magical colouring--all blue and gold and dazzling white, and ”Little Oaks” was reached all too soon in Judith's opinion. To their dismay there was no friendly column of smoke announcing the fire that Mme. Berthier had promised.
”It's a good thing the Berthiers are only a mile away,” said Jack; ”whatever can have happened?”
He came out of the little whitewashed cottage with a grave face.
”Jacques is away at the lumber camp and Toinette and the two younger children are down with flu--Toinette seems very ill; luckily Jeanne is old enough to do the nursing, but they need a doctor, and I'm afraid I'll have to go off at once. Nancy will be disappointed, but it can't be helped. We'll pin a note on the door for her as we go back--it would take too long to open the house and get a good fire going--and a wood fire wouldn't keep in all afternoon anyway--and I couldn't leave you alone--”
”Oh, please, please,” begged Judith, ”do let me stay--couldn't that small boy by the door be coaxed to stay with me for company--I couldn't bear to have Nancy's party spoilt.”
Judith knew how to be very persuasive and Jack finally gave in. Little Pierre came with them to carry the wood, he was told.
Jack opened up the house, carried in the baskets of provisions, and lit a fire of blazing logs.
”I'll 'phone to you when I get in, and if you should need anything, or if you feel lonely, ring up Mother in the meantime.”