Happy House Part 27

"It _must--be--the_--wallet!"

Now it was Sabrina who cried out--a protesting, frightened cry. For a moment she staggered as though she was going to fall; Nancy's strong arm went closely around her.

"Look quickly, dear Aunt Sabrina," Nancy implored.

With trembling fingers Aunt Sabrina opened it--within lay mouldy, age-worn bank-notes--many of them!

"It must have fallen behind the mantel in that other storm," cried Nancy. Then a great joy shone in her face. "He _didn't_ take it--Anne's grandfather!" she stopped abruptly. But Miss Sabrina had not even heard her, and Peter was too mystified by the whole thing to think Nancy's words strange. Miss Sabrina turned, with a stricken face.

"Anne--I--I can't think! What--what--wrong--have I done? Oh, G.o.d forgive me!" She threw her arms up over her head. Her grief was terrible because it was strange. Even Nancy, frightened, drew away.

"Oh, G.o.d, give back the years----" she moaned.

"It--is--too--late." She lifted a white, frightened face. "I must---be alone! Don't let anyone disturb me. Tell them, Anne--tell them--everything!" And with the wallet in her hand she went quickly but of the room.

Nancy turned to Peter, a triumph in her manner that was in strange contrast to Miss Sabrina's sorrow. She held her hand out toward the broken marble.

"_What_ a story!" she cried, "over two generations that ugly old mantel concealed the vindication of a man's honor!" Then, laughing at Peter's puzzled face, she told him briefly the story of the trouble that had hung over Happy House shadowing and embittering the lives of those beneath its roof.

"And, Peter, it has gone with the storm! Oh, you don't know what that means!" she cried, because Peter _could_ not know that she did not rejoice for herself, but because, now, there need be no barriers between Happy House and her own dear Anne--the real Anne Leavitt.

"After awhile--it _will_ be Happy House," she ended, enigmatically.

She walked with him to the door.

"What a day it has been," she laughed, catching her breath. "I feel as though it had been weeks ago that we started off! I've forgotten how wet we were," she pulled at her blouse. "Run away now, Peter, for I must break the wonderful news to Aunt Milly and B'lindy, and, as B'lindy would say--"there's a pile of work's got to be done!"

"Nancy, the day isn't over yet!" Peter hesitated. "There's going to be a gorgeous sunset to-night--won't you come into the orchard--just for a little while?"

"Silly--haven't you seen enough of me for one day?"

His look spoke more eloquently than could any words.

"_I_ have something to tell _you_!" he said, gravely.

CHAPTER XXIV

PETER

Nancy knew, with the instinct of a heart unfamiliar with coquetry, what Peter had to tell her!

She had wanted dreadfully to have to stay away from the orchard--she had hoped that Aunt Milly might need her, but Aunt Milly had gone to bed directly after supper, exhausted by the day's happenings. Aunt Sabrina's door had been shut ever since, with the wallet, she had gone into her room, and from within no sound betrayed her tragedy. B'lindy was fiercely struggling, with mop and broom, to remove all traces of the "curse" from Happy House. "Now just keep out of my way! I'm that upset," she answered Nancy, shortly.

The sunset was gorgeous. It flooded the garden with a soft, flaming golden light.

Like all girls, Nancy had had her dream of that time when her Knight should come riding to her; like all girls her dream-Knight was a pleasantly hazy individual, changing with her changing moods. And she had not wanted him to come quickly. Her young freedom was very precious to her.

One or two others had proposed to Nancy in hot-headed, boyish fashion.

That had been part of girlhood's fun. One, a Junior, after begging her to elope with him, had gone away crushed, and vengeful, only to send her, two weeks later, a bunch of violets and a little note thanking her for her "common-sense," explaining that "Pop had threatened to cut his allowance in half unless he settled down and made his mid-years."

These had been boys; dear, sentimental, clean-hearted boys, but Peter Hyde was different--

She had not dreamed of this--not for a moment, until she had seen it in his eyes that afternoon as they sat under the maple tree with B'lindy's lunch spread between them. He had been such a jolly comrade through these weeks at Freedom, he had been so understandable, like Claire and Anne and Daddy! He had never thought she was silly or not-grown-up-enough, he liked children and animals and knew just what to do to make Nonie and Davy happy; he had shared with her his ambitions in his work as though she was a man but, with it all, he was a farmer--his lot had been cast in the narrow confines of Judson's farm and barns and piggery--except for these pleasant days at Happy House she, Nancy Leavitt, with her heart set on a goal as distant as the stars themselves, could have little in common with him.

All this flashed through her mind as she walked slowly, reluctantly toward the orchard--and with it an annoyance that their pleasant comradeship should end this way. So that when, a little later, a very earnest Peter began to tell her in stumbling, awkward words how much her going must mean to him, she wanted to cry out and beg him to stop.

"Nancy--_I'm_ clumsy as the devil. Don't you _know_ what I want to tell you? I can't let you go without knowing it--and--and--Nancy, _could_ you ever--ever love a fellow--like me--enough--to--want--to marry him?"

Then the woman's heart within her made Nancy ages old.

"Oh, Peter!" she said with tender compa.s.sion. She _didn't_ want to hurt this very dear friend!

"I'm not nearly good enough for you, Nancy, but then, _any_ fellow isn't good enough! And, Nancy, there isn't anything in this whole world I wouldn't do--if you cared."

"Oh, Peter!" Why _in_ the world couldn't she say something more, she thought. Why couldn't she stem that flood she knew was coming? Why could she not make him see instantly, how impossible it all was--and say good-bye and go!

"I'll make you happy, Nancy--if loving will do it," he finished humbly.

"Peter--I wish--you hadn't--said this!"

"Do you mean you don't care--a bit?" he cried, protestingly. "Have I frightened you? You said yourself that living one day up here was like weeks somewhere else! Somehow I've not thought of your going away--ever. You seemed such a part of it here. You're so--different--from all the girls I've known! You're such a--_pal_.

That's the kind a man needs!"

Nancy was biting her lip to hide its trembling. Over her swept a reverence for this that Peter Hyde was offering her--she knew that a man's pure soul was being bared before her. His awkward words came slowly because they were born of a deep feeling. She was not worthy!

"Oh, Peter! Peter! Please--I'm--I can't let you say all this! I'm _not_--what you think me! I'm a _cheat_! You'd hate me if----"

He caught her hand. "I know what you are, Nancy--you're the best, truest, straightest-hearted little girl that ever lived!"

With an effort that hurt Nancy pulled herself together. She looked away so that she might not see that it hurt Peter Hyde when she pulled her hand from his close clasp.

"Peter--we must be--sensible." She hated her own words, but something within her, told her that she must say them. "We've been jolly comrades--here, but--I'm not cut out for--this sort of life. I'd hate it--after a little; I'd go mad on a farm with just cows and pigs and things around," she caught her breath; "I'm really an awfully selfish girl, Peter, and I've set my heart on my career! I'll always put that before anything--_anyone_ else! That wouldn't be fair--to you. You must forget me and find someone who will help you in your work."

His face was turned from her--his silence frightened her. She tried to make her tone light. "You've been a fine pal, Peter, you've helped me a lot. You've taught me a great many things, too. I've always thought that farmers and--and----"

He wheeled suddenly.

"Nancy, you haven't said you _didn't_ care for me, any!" he cried.

Nancy flushed in vexation.

"Well, I'm _trying_ to--the best way I know how! I _do_ like you--I'm going to be as honest as I can be! I just couldn't _ever_--no matter how much I might like the _farmer_--stand for--for a farm like Judson's!"

To Nancy's unutterable amazement Peter Hyde commenced to laugh, very softly, with a look in his eyes that caressed her. What an unexplainable creature he was--anyway!