Chapter IV: Part 4

“Just for that I won’t tell you what was in the window,” retorted Martha. “Anyhow, after I finished looking at _them_, I turned away rather quickly, stepped on a pebble, turned on my ankle, and nearly fell. Someone grabbed me, and I looked up to see Mr. Pierce looking anxiously down at me. We were near that street which leads to the wharf; so with his help I limped down to the boat, and the ship’s doctor strapped my ankle for me. You are an observing crowd, I must say, not to have noticed all this plaster,” and Martha stuck out her foot to display the bandaging plainly visible through her thin stocking.

“It was all right to do that; wasn’t it?” appealing to Miss Ashton. “My foot was swelling rapidly, and I did not know where to find any of the town doctors.”

“It was perfectly all right,” Miss Ashton assured her.

“Well,” Martha resumed, “the stewardess insisted upon getting me a cup of tea; and while I drank it I told Mr. Pierce how I happened to be wandering around this afternoon. He knew exactly the place I wanted, and as by that time I could walk perfectly well, we went in search of the garage. I selected a car, got in, and he drove it to the park over here; and there we sat and planned my driving practice. I don’t want you,” turning to Miss Ashton, “to think me ungrateful for your offer, or that I am simply passing it by; but I know you want to rest, and it is tiresome work sitting in with a beginner——”

“Won’t it be terribly tiresome for Mr. Pierce?” asked Nancy gravely.

“Don’t you bother about me,” said Miss Ashton. “I understand perfectly. But Martha, how can Mr. Pierce get away from the boat? Doesn’t he go back to Boston to-night?”

“Well, you see, he has two weeks’ vacation. He had one week in Halifax, where his people live—that was how I ran across him there—and the other week is still coming to him. He can take it now, or later——”

“And he’s going to take it now,” finished Nancy.

“Any or all of you are perfectly welcome to sit in the back seat when I practice,” offered Martha generously.

“Thanks, _so_ much,” said Nancy.

Miss Ashton, who had seen the two in the park that afternoon, when she was on her way to the steamer to cancel her reservations, had made a few careful inquiries as to the character of the young man, and had been perfectly satisfied with what she had found out. So she made no objections to Martha’s going about with him.

“Well, don’t go too far away; that’s all, Martha,” she said; “and be very careful; for some of the native drivers here still keep to the left of the road. It is very confusing to one accustomed to the right side.”

*CHAPTER X*

*WHERE IS NANCY?*

“My, but I am glad we didn’t go back last night,” exulted Jeanette the next morning.

“Why?” inquired Martha, as they sat in the sun parlor after breakfast.

“Didn’t you see the fog when we got up?” asked Nancy.

“Oh, yes. It _was_ foggy; wasn’t it?”

“Mart likes fog,” said Jeanette, smiling.

“I’m going for a long ramble along the shore this morning,” announced Nancy presently. “Anybody want to come along?”

“I promised Miss Ashton that I’d go with her to look at some linens she is thinking of buying,” said Jeanette regretfully. “I’m sorry; for I’d love to go. I suppose she would postpone her shopping trip, but I sort of hate to ask her to.”

“I know; she asks so little of us, that one can’t refuse when she does want something,” said Nancy.

“I’d go, but I’m driving this morning,” said Martha. “But we’ll take you part way, if you like. Which way are you going?”

“Oh, out the road toward Lower Woods Harbor, I think. I love that rocky coast. Thanks for the offer of a lift, Mart; but I really want to just ramble along the shore.”

“You won’t be able to see much; will you, Nancy? It’s so foggy,” said Jeanette. Somehow she didn’t quite like the idea of Nancy going off alone this morning; and yet she had no reasonable objection to offer.

“The fog will be entirely gone by ten o’clock, I imagine,” replied Nancy.

“Don’t go so far you can’t get back for lunch,” advised Martha.

“Oh,” laughed Nancy, “I always have a bar of chocolate in my bag for emergencies; so if I walk farther than I expect to, at least I won’t starve.”

“If you get tired, or go too far, just hop on an oxomobile,” suggested Martha.

“In that case, I’m afraid it would be dinner time before you reached the hotel,” said Jeanette.

“Dinner time to-morrow, you mean,” corrected Nancy; “for the poor beasts move so painfully slowly.”

“Better wear something warm, Nan,” advised Jeanette, as they all went upstairs to get ready for the morning’s trips. “It’s quite chilly.”

“But it’s hard to walk in a long coat,” objected Nan. “I should think my knitted dress and heavy sweater would do.”

“Perhaps,” said Jeanette, doubtfully.

“Don’t lose your pocketbook, Nan,” called Martha, as they parted at the foot of the hotel steps later in the morning.

“Don’t fall, Mart,” retorted Nancy.

Laughing, they turned in opposite directions, Martha toward the garage where she knew Mr. Pierce would be waiting; and Nancy toward Lower Woods Harbor.

The selection of a luncheon set took Miss Ashton and Jeanette much longer than they expected; then they spent an hour looking at the fascinating souvenirs in one of the shops devoted to such bait for the tourist. It is almost impossible to tear one’s self away from their attractive displays.

Martha found driving on the dusty, winding roads of Nova Scotia quite a different thing from rolling smoothly over the concrete roads at home. Besides a stream, on one road, they saw a brand new maroon sedan on its side in the water, at the right of a narrow bridge. The bank at the entrance to the bridge plainly showed where the driver had gone over. Martha got so nervous that she wanted to give up the wheel to her companion at once; but he quietly refused.

“Go right ahead,” he ordered. “You’ll have to learn to cross narrow bridges.”

“But that car down there,” protested Martha.

“Don’t look at it. Keep your eyes on the road ahead of the car.”

Martha was not at all accustomed to being told so firmly what to do, and expected to do it. Everyone had always laughed at her and considered her ways and remarks a huge joke. She did not know now whether to obey or not; so she slowed up a bit.

“Go on,” said her instructor. “Keep to the right of the center of the bridge, and you’ll be over it in a minute.”

“Don’t ever let yourself become unnerved at the sight of an accident,” he went on sternly when they had left the bridge behind. “Put your mind on the managing of your own car, and let the other fellow attend to his.”

Long before the lesson was over, Martha discovered that there are instructors; _and_ instructors.

“Where is Nan?” inquired Miss Ashton, when they assembled for lunch.

“I haven’t seen her since we parted at ten o’clock at the foot of the hotel steps,” replied Martha.

“Nor I since she dressed to go out,” added Jeanette.

“It is strange that she is not back by this time,” said Miss Ashton anxiously.

“She said she had some chocolate in her bag,” observed Martha, “and that she wouldn’t starve if she went too far to get back by lunch time.”

“Yes, she did,” agreed Jeanette. “I thought she was joking; but maybe she meant it.”

“In that case, there is no sense in our waiting lunch for her,” decided Miss Ashton, practically. “Perhaps she will come before we have finished. If not, we’ll manage to feed her some way when she does come.”

“Nan always walks farther than she intends,” said Jeanette, as they sat down at the table; “then has to sit down and rest before she can get home again.”

“That’s probably the case this time,” decided Miss Ashton. “There is no occasion for worry about her.”

Jeanette tried to take the same view of the situation; but, in spite of herself, she felt some misgivings. She wished now that she had asked Miss Ashton to put off the shopping trip, and had gone with Nan. However, there was nothing to do but wait; and everything probably was all right after all. As Nan always said, Jeanette was over-inclined to worry.

Martha was so tired after her morning’s exertion that she threw herself across her bed, and slept most of the afternoon. Jeanette roamed anxiously from their room down to the lobby, out to the sun parlor, from which you can get a view of the street in both directions, and back again. Shortly after lunch, the fog crept in again; and the damp, gray, gloomy atmosphere added to her depression. She wanted to go out in search of Nancy, but since she was not very sure of direction in a strange city, she was afraid of losing her way. Miss Ashton had gone to the outskirts of the city to call upon a family whose address had been given her by a Boston friend with an urgent request to see them before she returned.

By four o’clock, poor Jeanette was quite frantic. She was crossing the lobby for the tenth time, when she caught sight of Jim Jackson standing before the desk. Running across the room, she grabbed him by the arm; and he turned quickly.

“Why, Miss Grant! What are you doing here?” he exclaimed in surprise. “I thought you were in Boston by now.”

“No; we didn’t go—we’re still here,” replied Jeanette, incoherently; “but”—her voice almost broke—“Nan’s gone.”

“Nan’s gone! What on earth do you mean?”

“Nan’s lost, I think.”

“When? How?”

“Since morning. She went for a walk, and——”

“In which direction? Do you know?”

“She spoke of going toward Lower Woods Harbor.”

The scene of their last ride together, thought Jim.

“I’ll take the bus and go to look for her. Want to come?” he added kindly; for Jeanette’s distressed little face touched him.

“If you don’t mind. I’ll not be a second.” She dashed upstairs, snatched her own heavy coat and Nan’s, and was down again by the time he had the bus at the door. Miss Ashton had not yet returned, and Martha was still asleep; but Jeanette was far too excited to think of leaving any word for them.

“I was so shocked to see you standing beside me,” began Jim, as he guided the bus rapidly in the direction of the Harbor, “I could hardly believe my eyes.”

“Well, I assure you I was delighted to see you. I have been nearly frantic all the afternoon. Miss Ashton is away off somewhere at the other end of the town, making a call, and Martha is asleep; and I didn’t know what to do.”

“How did you happen to stay over!”

With frequent pauses to examine the roadside more closely, Jeanette told him about their change of plan; and of what they had been doing since he left town.

“Pierce, the purser?” he asked, when she mentioned Martha’s efforts to learn to drive. “Yes.”

“He’s a fine fellow. A bit serious, and stern; but a good scout.”

“I can’t imagine Martha with anyone of that type,” observed Jeanette; “for she’s always been laughed at and given her own way.”

“She’ll never get it with him, unless it happens to be his way too; or he’s convinced that hers is the right way. Pierce doesn’t hold out for his own way through mere obstinacy; but when he’s sure he’s right, there’s no budging him.”

“What’s that?” asked Jeanette suddenly; and Jim stopped the bus almost instantly.

“Where!”

“Down on those rocks.”

Jim scrambled down, and came up with a piece of bright Blue bunting.

“Just a bit of some of the decorations we saw the other day, evidently,” he said, tossing it aside after showing it to her. “If only this fog would lift,” he muttered, as he started the bus again.

“You watch that side of the road,” he presently directed Jeanette; “and I’ll watch this.” They were going very slowly, and scanning every nook and cranny.

In the meantime, Miss Ashton had returned, taken a peek into the girls’ room, and found Martha just rousing from her long nap.

“Where are the other two girls?” asked Miss Ashton.

“I don’t know—” yawned Martha. “I went to sleep right after lunch; for I was dead after this morning. Nan hadn’t appeared then, and Jeanette was waiting around for her. She must have come, and then she and Janie gone off somewhere; for I’m quite sure Jeanette would never have let me sleep until this hour if Nan hadn’t returned.”

“It is very strange that they are staying out until now,” said Miss Ashton, half an hour later, going again to the girls’ room, where she found Martha partly ready for dinner.

“That’s just what I was thinking. Do you suppose Nan didn’t come back, and Janie went to look for her?”

“I don’t know what to suppose. It isn’t like Jeanette to go off without a word to anybody.”

“I know it.”

Worry and excitement gripped Martha, and she had a hard time to keep back the tears.

They finished dressing, and went down to the lobby, where Miss Ashton inquired of the clerk if he knew anything about Jeanette’s whereabouts.

“The day clerk is off duty now, Madam,” he replied, “and I have not seen the young lady this evening.”

“Pardon me,” said the head bell boy, who had been standing near enough to hear the question and answer. “You mean the little blond lady?”

“Yes, yes,” cried Martha.

“She came into the lobby about four o’clock, just as Jim got here——”

“Jim?” demanded Martha.

“Yes, Jim. I don’t know his other name, but he drives the bus. They stood here talking, and then the lady went upstairs for her wrap, and went off with Jim when she came down again. They went away in the bus.”

“Thank goodness!” breathed Miss Ashton, as they turned away after thanking the boy for his information. “Jim has evidently gone to look for Nan, and has taken Jeanette with him. Don’t worry, Martha,” she added, seeing that the girl beside her was struggling with emotion, “Jim knows these roads, as probably no one else does. He will find her, I’m sure.”

“But—but—” faltered Martha, “suppose something has _happened_ to Nan.”

“We just won’t think about such a possibility,” decreed Miss Ashton determinedly.

“But I don’t see _why_ Jeanette didn’t waken me.”

“She probably thought every minute that Nancy would come. You know how it is, Martha, when one is waiting for somebody. Besides, after all, what could you have done?”

“I could have kept her company, at least,” retorted Martha quickly.

“Yes, of course; but she knew that you were tired out. We might as well eat dinner.”

“I couldn’t swallow a mouthful——”

“There is no sense at all in letting yourself get weak and more nervous for want of food,” said Miss Ashton firmly. “So we’ll eat. Order something light, if you prefer; but you must have nourishing food.”

For the second time that day, Martha surprised herself by following the will of another.

It seemed to Jeanette that they had ridden at least twice around the whole peninsula of Nova Scotia before she spied something red upon the rocks below the road.

“Stop!” she cried, excitedly; and Jim obeyed.

“Nan has a red purse. Maybe that’s it,” pointing to the scarlet spot at the water’s edge.

They both scrambled across the rocks with what speed they could, for they were wet and slippery with the incoming tide, and strewn with seaweed.

“It is!” exclaimed Jeanette, as they got closer to the object. “She must be drowned!”

Jim made no reply, but with one long stride, and a sweep of his arm, he secured the little purse.

“For Heaven’s sake!” he cried. “Look!”

The purse was tied to the back of a toy duck.

“That’s the prize Nan won at the bridge party in Digby,” he added.

“You’re right, but how did it come here?” puzzled Jeanette.

“I can’t tell any more than you, but it is what kept the purse from sinking. See how wet it is? Nan must have sent the toy ashore, hoping it would attract attention.”

“But what can we _do_?”

Jeanette was twisting her hands and trying to keep from tears. She must _not_ become hysterical.

Jim was doing some rapid thinking.

“I imagine she’s out on one of those rocks that are high and dry at low tide, but cut off from the mainland when the tide comes in. I can get a boat back there a ways,” waving his hand in the direction from which they had come, “and go out after her. Would you be afraid to stay in the bus if I lock it? I’d take you,” as Jeanette hesitated, “but I can go quicker alone; and, besides, it won’t help matters any for you to get soaked.”

“I’ll stay,” said Jeanette, bravely going back toward the car, and getting in.

“Good for you! You’ll be perfectly safe, and I’ll be just as quick as I can.”

Jim disappeared into the fog, and Jeanette curled up on one of the seats for a good cry. She was soon over it, however, and straining her eyes, trying to see through the thick gray blanket which had wrapped itself around the coast. Once she heard the sound of oars, but she could not distinguish any objects.

The minutes seemed to fairly crawl, and each one was like an hour! No one passed along the road, not even a stray dog. Suppose Jim could not find Nan? Suppose he too got lost? Suppose she had to just stay on and on here?

In the meantime Jim was heading, as well as he could, toward a big rock called “The Turtle,” which he had pointed out and remarked upon to Nan on that last memorable ride. It was a big flat slab, with an end which reared up much higher than the rest of it, and formed the head of the turtle. The long tail, which joined the formation with the jutting point of the shore, was well under water long ere this. It was difficult to be sure of direction in the fog, and he paused frequently to get his bearings. He dared not go too far along the coast, either way, because he might get beyond his goal. If he rowed out any great distance, the current might catch him; and if he remained too close to the shore, he would ground on the rocks.

If old Dave had only been at home, he would have come with him; or at least would have furnished a lantern. Lucky that the old dory, with the oars in it, was outside where all Jim had to do was help himself.

“Nan!” he finally shouted at the top of his voice, when he figured he might be somewhere near the cut-off portion of the “Turtle.” He listened intently, holding his breath so as to hear better.

No reply.

He rowed a little farther to the right, and tried again with the same result. Then he turned back to the left, where he had called the first time.

“N—A—N!”

Was that an echo, or a faint answer?

He tried again.

“N—A—N!”

“—e—r—e.”

No mistake. It _was_ a far-off reply. But from which side had it come?

“Nan! Where are you?”

He strained his ears for the answer, trying with all his might to get the direction when the answer did come.

“—e—r—e.” It trailed off feebly in the fog at the right. He must have gone beyond The Turtle; for he felt quite positive that was where Nancy was. The purse and duck had been at a point nearly opposite it.

He rowed as fast as he dared for some little distance to the right, and then called again.

“Nan! Where are you?”

“Here— Tur-tle.”

Thank God she was safe!

By repeatedly calling and waiting for the answer, he guided the boat successfully toward the rock formation. At last it loomed up beside him, and he saw Nancy perched on the head, all the rest being covered by water.

“Hello, Jim!” she said, as he sat for a moment silently looking up at her.

One would have thought it the most natural place in the world for them to meet.

“Oh, Nan,” he faltered; and could get no further.

“Jim, take me home,” she begged, her bravery and nonchalance quickly dispelled by the sight of his deep distress.

“Can you slide down into the boat?”

“I think so.”

“Steady yourself with this,” holding up one oar and keeping the boat in place with the other.

She succeeded in slipping down the rocks and into the dory, and Jim started to head for the shore. Neither said a word, until Nancy began to wring the water out of her skirt.

“Nan, you’re soaked. Take this,” said Jim, pulling off his sweater quickly.

“I won’t! You’ll catch your death of cold without it.”

“I’m exercising. Put it on!”

Nancy obeyed, and nothing more was said until the boat grated on the sand. Jim stepped out and gave her a hand. She was stiff and cold, and could hardly stand. Seeing her stagger, Jim stooped and picked her up like a doll.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he directed.

“But Jim,” she protested, “I’m too heavy. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Paying no attention to her objections, he carried her across the beach and appeared so suddenly beside the bus that Jeanette gave a little scream.

“She’s all right,” said Jim, placing Nan gently on the seat beside Jeanette, “only cold and stiff.”

After one wild hug, Jeanette busied herself making Nancy comfortable.

“Give Jim my coat,” directed Nan, when Jeanette tried to slip it on her. “He made me put on his sweater, and it’s too wet from my clothes now for him to use it.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” said Jim decidedly. “Besides, what do you suppose would happen to your coat if I tried to get into it.”

“Jim, _please_!” pleaded Nancy. “You’ll catch cold and have pneumonia—or—or something, and it will be all my fault——”

Her voice broke.

“I have a sheepskin somewhere here under the seat. I’ll put that on to satisfy you. Will that do?”

“Yes.”

Nobody talked on the homeward trip; each was too busy thinking of what might have happened.

“Go ahead and open the doors for us, Miss Grant,” directed Jim, when they stopped in front of the hotel, and he prepared to carry Nancy in. Like a good soldier, Jeanette obeyed, and did not look behind.

“It’s quite unnecessary to carry me, Jim,” said Nancy. “I can walk perfectly well now; see? I’d really rather not be carried in. _Please_!” as he hesitated.

“I—I don’t know what to say to you, how to thank you,” she continued.

“Don’t try. Go in now, dear. I’ll see you to-morrow.”

At the top of the long flight of steps, up which he assisted her, a pillar shut off the light from the windows; and in its shadow Jim stooped and shyly kissed Nancy. Then he pushed her gently into the lobby, where Jeanette was waiting; ran down the steps, and out to the bus.

“My goodness, Nan,” cried Jeanette, “you were so long getting in that I was afraid he had dropped you.”

“He didn’t carry me, Janie. I’m all right now. Please don’t tell the others that part of it,” she begged.

“All right, Nannie dear. I won’t.”

It did not take them long to put Nancy to bed and give her a hot meal.

“We’re not going to ask or answer any questions to-night,” decreed Miss Ashton, in her professional manner. “I want Nancy to be perfectly quiet now, and go to sleep. To-morrow, if she feels like it, she may tell us her experiences. Jeanette, you and Martha take my room for to-night. I’ll stay here in case Nan needs any care during the night.”

Excited though they were, the girls respected Miss Ashton’s wishes too much to object to her decision. Jeanette hated to be separated from Nancy, but she knew that she would be in capable hands; for Miss Ashton was a tireless nurse.

The girls bade Nancy good night and went to their room. Miss Ashton went to bed in Martha’s single, and, after bidding Nan call her if she wanted anything, or felt at all ill, she was soon asleep.

Nancy herself lay wide awake in the big bed beside the fireplace, and watched the street lights flicker across the windowpane. She was quite cozy and comfortable, but not in the least sleepy. The events of the day passed and re-passed through her mind, especially those of the last two hours. How nice it had been to see Jim again, and how wonderful of him to rescue her. Her cheeks burned as she recalled his good night, yet she could not, some way, feel angry at him, as she should. Why? She had always hated any form of “necking” and a boy who tried it even once was out of her good graces.

“You’re so funny, Nan,” remarked one of her admirers, smarting from a rebuke. “Everyone does it now.”

“That may be,” she had replied. “Let ‘everyone.’ _I_ won’t.”

“But why? There is no harm in it,” he had persisted.

“Whether there is harm in it or not, I don’t _like_ it. I consider love and all that goes with it such a wonderful, such a sacred thing, that I don’t care to spoil it by playing at it with Tom, Dick, and Harry. My kisses and hugs are going to be kept for the one right man; if he ever comes. This wholesale display of affection is unspeakably cheap and disgusting, and I won’t be a party to it.”

Poor Jim! _He_ had been so cut up over her disappearance, and the difficulty he’d had in rescuing her, that the relief of getting her home safely made him forget all about his shyness and customary reserve. She’d try to forget about the whole affair, and go to sleep.

“But,” she thought, just before she fell into a doze, “I’m glad Jim’s coming to-morrow.”

*CHAPTER XI*

*AFTER EFFECTS*

The next morning, although Nancy appeared to be perfectly all right, Miss Ashton insisted upon her remaining in bed.

“You were thoroughly soaked and chilled, and must have had quite a nervous shock,” replied that lady when her patient wanted to go down to breakfast; “so we’re going to be on the safe side. This afternoon, possibly, I will let you get up.”

Jeanette brought up some breakfast, and insisted upon feeding her, though Nancy laughed at her. A little later in the morning, they all gathered around the bed to listen to the story of her adventure.

“I went right out the Harbor road after I left you, Mart,” began Nancy. “The fog had risen, and the sunshine on the water was lovely; and I stopped often to admire the view. When I reached The Turtle, I walked out and sat down on his back to rest. First, I faced the water for a time; then I turned around, leaned against his head, and just reveled in the scenery.

“Such scenery! Back from the shore, beyond the road, lay a stretch of forest land. The great, green tips of the pines on the background of the blue sky, the white birch trunks among the dull rough ones of the firs, the splash of russet, yellow, or crimson where a branch had put on autumn color made a wonderful picture. The rocks were very warm in the sun, and I was tired from walking; so I think I must have had a nap, although I didn’t mean to. I wakened from a dream of a sudden heavy rainstorm, to find a complete change in the landscape. The sun had disappeared. A fog was gathering, and between my rock and the shore was a sheet of water.

“If I’d had any sense, I’d have waded ashore then; but the water looked pretty deep—I couldn’t even see the tail of the turtle. The waves kept creeping up to where I sat, and I realized that soon I’d be in them. So I climbed up on the head, and made myself as comfortable as I could.”

“And what did you think about,” asked Martha, “while you were perched up there?”

“First, that I was very stupid to go to sleep. Then I wondered how I’d get back here again; if I’d have to stay until the tide turned. I did not know when that would be, nor how much higher it would rise. I thought about all of you, and imagined just what you were doing. I knew you’d be worried after a while, and try to find me. I remembered telling you in which direction I was going; but the fog which kept growing more dense would prevent you from seeing me, even if you did pass along the road.

“After a while, I became awfully hungry; so I opened my bag to get the bar of chocolate, and discovered my duck! Don’t you remember, my big needlepoint bag was on the table that night at Digby, Janie, and for want of a better place, I stuck my prize in it? I never bothered to take it out, fortunately. An idea came to me, and I fairly hugged the little beast. I emptied the red purse which I keep in that bag, fastened it on the duck’s back with some rubber bands, and on the nest wave set it afloat. The last I saw of it, it was headed straight for the shore. It made such a brilliant, unusual combination that I thought somebody might notice it when it went around on the rocks.”

“But,” objected Martha, “if a stranger instead of Jim had happened to find it, how would that have helped you? A stranger would never connect it with anyone being out on the rocks.”

“But my card was in it, with the message: ‘Am out on The Turtle. Please rescue me.’ Didn’t you find it, Janie?” turning to Jeanette.

“We didn’t even open it, Nannie,” confessed her chum. “We knew at once that it was yours, and Jim said you must be on The Turtle.”

“Jim, the Sleuth,” laughed Nancy; but Miss Ashton saw the light in her eyes as she said it.

“Oh, Nan,” said Jeanette, “he was just wonderful! I’ll never forget it.”

“Nor I,” replied Nancy, quietly.

“Then what?” urged Martha. “Go on, Nan.”

“There wasn’t much more. I simply sat there, curled up in a heap so as to keep as warm as I could, and waited. After, oh, hours and hours it seemed, I heard someone calling me, and I answered. I did not know at first whether he could hear me; for the fog seemed to force the tones of my voice right back upon me. Soon, however, we were keeping up a regular system of calls.”

“Did you know it was Jim?” asked Martha.

“Of course I wasn’t _sure_ until he was nearly there; then I recognized his voice.

“Thus endeth the tale,” she added laughing; “except that I want to say how awfully sorry I am to have caused you all so much worry.”

“Anyway,” said Martha, “they lived happily ever after.”

Nancy blushed, and looked sharply at Martha; but her remarks were apparently quite innocent of any hidden meaning.

A maid rapped at the door at that moment.

“I was to give these to Miss Pembroke,” she said, when Miss Ashton opened the door, “and ask if she is able to see anyone.”

Miss Ashton took the mass of lovely red roses, freshly cut from some Yarmouth garden, and laid them on Nancy’s bed.

“I’ll go down, and talk to him,” she said; “for I suppose it is Jim.”

She was out of the room before Nancy could say a word; and in a few minutes she was back again.

“It was Jim, as I supposed. He made the proper inquiries about your health, and is going to join us for lunch.”

Nancy drew a breath of relief. She might have known that Miss Ashton would not simply send him away without letting her see him.

After hearing what Jeanette and Martha did in her absence, Nancy got up and dressed; and they all went down to lunch.

Jim, as Miss Ashton had directed, was waiting in the white parlor.

“Go and get Jim,” she said to Nancy, as they turned toward the dining room. “We’ll go on in.”

Jim, who had been sitting before the fireplace, rose as Nancy entered, and crossed the room to meet her.

“You’re all right, Nan?” he asked, a bit breathlessly, his kind brown eyes gazing searchingly down into hers.

“Perfectly, thanks to you,” she replied, giving him her hand.

He held it, clasped firmly in both of his for a long moment.

“And I want to thank you also for the lovely roses,” she added.

“I robbed my landlady’s garden for those,” he said. “She has a huge trellis, just covered with them. Perhaps if we take a stroll this afternoon you’d like to see it?”

“Just love to. Had we better go in to lunch now?”

They joined the others, and had a merry time at the table laughing over Martha’s efforts to learn to drive. Much, to Jeanette’s confusion, and Jim’s amusement, they also told him about her struggles with the clams the first day they spent in Yarmouth.

“Well,” said Martha, as they left the dining room, “in spite of your discouraging mirth, I’m going to drive again this afternoon; so I’ll have to leave you now. Shall I see you again, Jim?”

“I’m going out at five this afternoon,” he replied; “but I’ll be back day after to-morrow.”

“We’ll still be here then,” said Miss Ashton. “How much longer do you stay in Nova Scotia, Jim?”

“I’m not sure. May get orders to go back the last of the week.”

“It would be nice if you could go when we do,” suggested Miss Ashton.

“Wish I could,” he said, fervently.

“Would Miss Ashton object to your going walking if you feel able to?” Jim presently asked Nancy, as they followed the others down the hall.

“I don’t think so.”

“As long as you don’t get overtired,” said Miss Ashton, when Nancy asked her. “See that she doesn’t go too far, Jim,” she added.

So they went out into the fresh sea air and brilliant warm sunshine with which Yarmouth was filled that afternoon, and rambled down one street and up another of that charming seaport town, pausing to admire a colorful garden here, some fine trees there, and many an attractive house of English architecture.

The days passed rapidly after that, hurrying along toward Friday night, when they would sail.

Early Friday morning, Jim ran in.

“Good news!” he announced. “Orders have come to park the old bus on the steamer and return to Boston.”

“Really, Jim?” said Miss Ashton. “How very nice,” while Nancy flashed him a happy smile.

“I can’t stay now, for I’ve a dozen things to fix up before I leave. See you at the dock to-night,” and Jim ran out again.

“I have some shopping to do,” announced Martha, when he had gone.

The other two girls groaned.

“What now, Mart?” asked Nancy.

“Oh, that’s so. You didn’t get that ring you wanted. Did you?” inquired Jeanette.

“Yes! No! That is, yes,” stammered Martha.

“What do you mean by ‘Yes—no—yes’?” demanded Nancy.

“I mean that I didn’t at first; but then I did,” explained Martha.

“Just as clear as clear,” laughed Jeanette. “You didn’t tell us you bought it,” said Nancy reproachfully.

“Well, with all the excitement we’ve had, could you blame me for forgetting something? It was extravagant, I admit; but I felt I’d never be happy without it. I’ll wear my last year’s clothes all year to make up for it.”

“Yes, you will!” jeered Nancy.

“But if you have the ring, why shop?” asked Jeanette.

“I thought I’d buy a little fruit to eat on the steamer——”

“Now, Mart, didn’t you learn better than that on the way over?” protested Nancy.

“But I don’t expect to be sick this time. I’m a seasoned sailor now.”

“You probably won’t touch it; and anyhow, you can buy some on board,” persisted Nancy.

“Not such fruit as I saw.”

“Well, go to it if you must.”

So that night, when they went on board, Martha’s baggage included a fancy basket filled with various kinds of fruit.

*CHAPTER XII*

*THE UNEXPECTED*

Tim met them at the head of the gangplank; and after having their chairs placed, he and Nancy strolled about the deck to inspect the crowd.

Finally a little tug, carrying the end of a heavy cable attached to the steamer, swung out into the harbor. After describing a wide semicircle, it took up its position waiting for a signal. Soon it was given; and by skilful manipulation the little boat pulled the big one slowly away from the wharf and headed it out to sea. Its work done, the tug steamed fussily back to the dock.

“So,” said Martha suddenly, as they all lay in their steamer chairs, wrapped in rugs, and watching the rapidly receding shores of Nova Scotia against the sunset, “we got away without my having my third fall, or Nan losing her third pocketbook.”

“But,” said Jeanette, “you nearly fell, when you turned on your ankle, Mart; and Nan nearly lost her little red purse.”

“A miss is as good as a mile,” declared Martha.

“Peut-on dire d’une chose qu’elle est perdue quand on sait où est die?”¹ quoted Jim softly.

“What’s that?” asked Martha.

“Didn’t you ever have that French exercise which tells about the sailor who lost the silver teapot?”

“Yes, of course; but what’s that got to do with it?”

“If you don’t know, I’ll never tell you,” laughed Nan.

Jeanette said nothing; for she was quite certain that the little red purse was not in Nan’s possession.

“My goodness, it’s getting rough,” complained Martha presently. “I’m going down to bed.”

“So am I,” said Jeanette.

They made their way to their respective staterooms as rapidly as possible.

“Will it be like this all the way, do you suppose?” asked Nancy anxiously.

“I doubt it. This is the wash from the Bay of Fundy that we’re getting now. It will be calmer after a while,” replied Jim, slipping a big warm hand over her cold one under the edge of the steamer rug. “Go to your stateroom if you want to; but I think if you lie here, perfectly quiet, you will be quite all right.”

Presently the moon came up, and the ocean was a scene of fairyland. It was a couple of hours later when Nancy crept in beside Jeanette, who was sleeping soundly under heavy blankets in the big stateroom, filled with fresh salt air which was sweeping in through the open port hole.

Toward morning, the foghorn began to blow; and Nancy looked at her watch. Five o’clock. They were due to dock between seven and eight. Too early to get up; but, try as she would, she could not go to sleep again. So she lay, thinking over the things she and Jim had talked about the preceding evening on deck. At half-past five she rose, dressed, and began to pack.

“If I have all this done early, there will be more time to spend on deck. I’ll do Janie’s too,” she decided, after finishing her own. “_Dear_, dear Janie!”

She had just closed her own suitcase, and had Jeanette’s all ready to slide in the last things, when a terrific jar threw her forward onto the floor.

“Oh, what is it?” cried Jeanette, who was instantly aroused by the unusual motion. “Nan dear, are you hurt?”

Nancy assured her that she was not.

The sound of opening doors, running feet, shouts, curt directions were heard; then—the ringing of the big alarm! _That_ meant for everybody to get out on deck.

“Get dressed as quickly as you can, girls,” called Miss Ashton from the opposite state room. “We’ve been struck; but, don’t get frightened.”

In less time than she ever dressed before, Jeanette got ready to go up on deck.

Jim met them in the passageway.

“Your life preservers,” he said, “are under the berths. Get them,” taking their bags from them. “I’ll show you how to put them on.”

He quickly buckled them in place; his own was already on. Then he helped Miss Ashton and Martha with theirs, and they all joined the throng of passengers who were trying to get to the promenade deck.

Ship officers were everywhere, keeping order among the startled passengers. It was a calm crowd, fortunately, rather inclined to treat the accident as an adventure.

“I woke up,” said one man whose stateroom was on the lowest deck, “to find the nose of some other steamer in my room. ‘Well, old girl,’ I said, ‘either you or I’ll have to get out of here. I must have some privacy! And I guess it had better be me.’ So here I am.”

“Well, I looked all over for my toothbrush,” said one woman, “while Joe hollered at me all the time to hurry. ‘You go on if you want to,’ I said to him at last; ‘but I won’t stir until I find that toothbrush.’ And I _didn’t_.”

She was carrying it carefully in her hand, evidently having left all her other belongings behind.

Another woman was taking great care of an umbrella and a box of candy. Martha clung fast to her untouched basket of fruit.

A strange sight met their eyes when they reached the promenade deck. Beside them, in the dense fog, was the steamer which had rammed them, her bow still in the hole she had made; apparently just “standing by” until help came.

The passengers surged in all directions. Some were crying, some laughing hysterically; others pale and silent; but most were as calm as if this were an everyday occurrence, or at least an interesting one. A few blustered angrily over the delay and the inconvenience. The kicker, like the poor, we have always with us.

“There is really no danger,” cried John Pierce, working his way in and out among the people. “An SOS has been sent out, and assistance will soon be here.”

He had no time to linger with Martha now, but paused beside her long enough to say, “Don’t get excited. There is no need for worry.”

Jeanette and Martha, pale with anxiety, sat on the arms of Miss Ashton’s chair; for Jim had succeeded in finding a place for her to sit down. He and Nancy were half leaning, half sitting, on a pile of camp stools near by.

“Frightened, Nan?” he asked, looking down at her.

“Not—exactly,” she replied, bravely smiling up at him, but she shook with nervousness. “If there were only something one could _do_, instead of just having to wait passively.”

“I imagine it won’t be very long,” he said, slipping his arm around her to steady her a little. “We are so close to Boston that a boat, should reach us very quickly.”

“Isn’t it queer,” she observed presently, “how persistent a part the fog has played in this trip? The morning we landed at Yarmouth, that first night in Halifax, several times on our motor trip——”

“And on Turtle Head,” interrupted Jim in a low tone.

“And now it is pushing us into Boston,” she finished, smiling at him.

“Pushing us in!” echoed Martha, who had caught her last sentence. “How do you get that way? Keeping us _out_, you mean!”

“Miss Scott has recovered her speech at last,” observed Jim. “Is she often silent for so long a time?”

“Very seldom; but Jim, why don’t you call her Martha? Miss Scott sounds so very formal.”

“It isn’t very easy for me to get on familiar terms with people,” he replied slowly. “I never have made friends quickly—at least,” he corrected himself as he caught sight of her dancing eyes and funny little smile, “never until the present instance.”

“The exception which proves the rule?” she inquired.

“Exactly.”

“But Jim,” she added, more seriously; “the girls like you, and—and my friends must be yours too.”

“I know; I want them to he; and mine yours. You’ll like my special pal Griff Burton. He’s the most unconventional chap you ever saw; a perfect riot. But a prince of a fellow. I hope there will be a chance for you to meet him before you go home.”

“Shouldn’t you think they were sitting calmly in a living room somewhere on dry land, all by themselves, instead of here in a crowd of people on a foggy ocean, not knowing whether we’re going to the bottom or not?” whispered Martha, glancing at the two, absorbed in each other.

“Goodness, Mart, what a cheerful idea”; exclaimed Jeanette, ignoring the first part of her remark.

Miss Ashton made no comment; but she gazed rather thoughtfully out to sea.

“How long do you expect to stay in Boston?” continued Jim.

“I really don’t know. Our plans for the time subsequent to getting into Boston are not at all definite. If Madelon had been with us, you know I told you about Miss Ashton’s protégée, the little French girl?—we expected to run about the city a bit; and there were a couple of boys who spoke of meeting us here.”

“Who are they?” asked Jim quickly.

“One is a Junior at Roxford—his name is Phil Spenser; the other is his cousin, Tom Mixer. He’s a grad. They are having such a funny experience this summer,” and she went on to tell him of their adventures. “If we had come back to Boston when we expected to, I think it unlikely that they would have been here. But I sent Phil a card after our plans changed, and it may be that by this time they have made enough money to come on.”

“I should like you to meet my father and mother before you go back,” said Jim, after she had finished her story of the boys. “My brother is in Bermuda at present——”

“Oh, is he? That’s where Janie and I want to go next summer. We’re planning to ask our folks to give us the trip as a graduation present.”

“And after that, what?”

“I honestly don’t know, Jim. I wish I did. During this last year at college I’ll have to think hard, and come to some decision. I _might_ teach, for I love youngsters——”

“But only for, say a year or two?” interrupted Jim, in a very low tone.

“Why, I don’t know. I probably should keep at it if I liked it.”

“I mean just until I get well settled, and can take care of you?”

There was dead silence, broken only by the harsh sound of the foghorn, and the subdued voices of the crowd around them. Nancy’s heart raced madly; and although she felt Jim’s anxious eyes upon her, and knew he was waiting, she could not force herself to reply at once.

“You’re not angry; are you, Nan?” he asked at last.

She shook her head.

“And—and—you’ll do it?”

“Do what?”

Even in a serious moment like this, her fondness for mischief got the upper hand.

“You know perfectly well what I mean, Nancy,” he replied very gravely.

He had not meant to speak so soon; not for a long time. But in the excitement of the collision, and their possible danger—for truly help did seem mighty long in coming, and he knew that by this time water must be filling the hold of the steamer—he had thrown aside all reserve. He must let her know how very much he cared.

At that moment, a huge bulk loomed out of the fog, and there were shouts of joy from the passengers. Help had come.

Two at a time, “Like the animals going into the ark,” remarked the irrepressible Martha, the people were all transferred to the _City of Boston_ which had come to rescue them; and the disabled steamer, being lightened, prepared to limp into port with her cargo, under her own power.

In the excitement Nancy managed to whisper to Jim:

“I can’t answer you now, with all this going on; maybe we’ll be able to have a few minutes together before I go home?”

“I’ll see that we do,” was his firm reply.

Rumors of the accident had reached Boston, and the wharf was thronged with people. Some were friends or relatives of the passengers on the unfortunate steamers; others merely seekers of excitement. Jim managed to get his party through the crowd, and into a taxi.

“Sorry to hurry you away from Pierce, Miss—Martha,” he said, after they were seated in the cab and on their way to Miss Ashton’s apartment.

Nancy flashed him an approving glance.

“Oh, that’s all right,” replied Martha frankly. “He knows where he can find me.”

¹ Can one say of a thing that it is lost if one knows where it is?

*CHAPTER XIII*

*A LETTER*

Dear Mary,

“I don’t know how you will feel about it, but in spite of my careful chaperoning” [Miss Ashton smiled shrewdly to herself as she wrote that] “I’m afraid that I have let your little girl fall in love.

“I fancy I can see you stiffen up at that, and hear you say, ‘What nonsense! She is only a child.’ Perhaps she is in your eyes, still a little girl—I suppose that, to their own mothers, children never really grow up; but to others she is a very lovely and lovable young girl. She was always most attractive, but how wonderfully she has developed and improved during these last two years! I have not seen her, you know, since that summer she was so crushed by her uncle’s departure for Germany; and I imagine I see the change more clearly than you do.

“To get back to the subject in hand, I do not want to forestall Nancy’s confidences to you; for I am sure she will tell you about her new more-than-friend very soon, if she has not already; but I do want to give you my impressions of the case, as well as to let you have some information which will perhaps move you to smile, instead of frown, upon these two young things.

“James Jackson, the driver of the bus and conductor of our motor trip through Nova Scotia, is, except during the summer, a student at Harvard; and, from what I have found but, a very good student. This will be his senior year. His father and mother are well-known and highly esteemed descendants of the founders of the city. He has one brother, Edmund, who is at present running a lily farm in Bermuda. They are not wealthy people, but are very comfortable and live in one of the lovely old-fashioned houses in Cambridge. So much for his antecedents and position.

“Now, for the lad himself. Really, Mary he is a dear! A big, strong, manly fellow, but gentle and bashful as a girl—I correct myself, as girls used to be. He talks very little, and hides his ideas and emotions behind his serious face and quiet manners. There is plenty of character, force, and determination, however, in the background, ready to be exercised whenever needed. He has dark hair and eyes, though not quite so dark as Nancy’s; but he is much taller, and of course heavier, than she.

“Her manner toward him, as well as his toward her, have given no opportunity for criticism even by the most severe judge. It is such an ideal little romance that I just love to watch it. They are over in the Public Gardens now, looking at the flower beds. Whether they will really see them or not, I am not prepared to state.

“Seriously, Mary, they seem to be perfectly suited to each other—made for each other, as we used to say. What is the modern term? Soul mates, or some such foolish expression. It does not matter what we call it, however, as long as real love, respect, and honor form the foundation.

“The girls will be here for a few days longer. Run down, if you like, and look Jim over; or invite him to go home with Nancy for the week-end.

“Sincerely, “Lois Ashton.”

*CHAPTER XIV*

*PLANS*

In the meantime, Nancy and Jim were sitting on a bench which was placed on a tongue of land jutting out into the lake in the Public Gardens. A white swan, which Nancy had been feeding with gingersnaps, uttered its peculiar harsh cry to call her attention to its desire for more food.

“Well, Nan,” Jim was saying, “have you been thinking about what I asked you on the steamer this morning?”

“Yes, I have very seriously, in the intervals of fitting ourselves and belongings into Miss Ashton’s tiny apartment.”

“And you decided——”