Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp Part 7

But Momsey had just that quality of faith. She went singing about her household tasks and her usual smile beamed quite beatific. So said Dr.

Christian, who stepped in to see her, as was his custom every few days.

"What's this? What's this?" the old medical pract.i.tioner demanded of Mr.

Sherwood, on the porch, where he usually made his report, and to which Nan often stole to listen openly to them discuss her mother's case.

"I find her in a state of happy excitement, and that is quite right, Robert, quite right, if the hopes that are the wellspring of it are not quenched. What does it mean? Have you arranged the sea voyage I advised?"

Papa Sherwood's face changed suddenly. He looked oddly, Nan thought, at the doctor. "I don't know but that is it, Doc," he said. "That sea voyage may be in the offing."

"Best thing that could happen to her, best thing that could happen to her!" declared the old physician with emphasis, as he stumped away.

Nan wondered what that could mean. A sea voyage for Momsey? Of course, for all of them. She could not imagine Momsey going anywhere without her and Papa Sherwood.

She knew she was not to say anything about what she heard pa.s.s between her father and the doctor on the porch. Indeed, Nan was no bearer of tales in any event. But she was very curious. The steam from the cauldron of Mystery seldom arose in the little "dwelling in amity"

save about Christmas time or just previous to Nan's birthday. But Papa Sherwood certainly was enigmatical and Momsey was mysteriously happy, as Dr. Christian had said.

"And we'll put steam heat in the little house. You know, Robert, we've always wanted to," Nan's mother suddenly said one evening as they all sat around the reading lamp, and quite apropos of nothing at all. Then she laughed, flushing prettily. "There! You see what my mind runs on. I really can't help it."

It was only a day or two later that the second letter came from Memphis.

Mr. Adair MacKenzie had returned from Mexico and evidently one of the first duties he performed was to write his Cousin Jessie his congratulations.

"A letter on quite another matter," this epistle read, "from our distant kinsman, Andrew Blake, of Kellam & Blake, apprised me that the ancient Hugh Blake, steward to the Lairds of Emberon for so many years, was dead and that his property was willed to your father, whose appearance as a lad at Emberon pleased the old man greatly.

"You are to be congratulated. The estate is considerable, I understand.

Your husband's troubles which are mentioned in your letter that I found awaiting my return will now be over. For, although Andrew Blake intimates that there may be considerable opposition in the courts there, over the money going to an American heir, you will be able in the end to establish your rights.

"Believe me, my dear Jessie, I know of n.o.body in our family to whom I would rather see fortune come than to yourself and your dear ones. If I can be of any a.s.sistance, financially, or otherwise, in helping you obtain your rights in this event, believe me, I stand ready to give such aid. Do not hesitate to call upon me. My regards to your husband and little girl whom I have never seen; Alice and John join me in expressing our good wishes for your happy future. I remain, with the old love I always had for you, Your cousin, Adair MacKenzie."

"Now, Robert, what have you to say?" cried Momsey triumphantly, while Nan danced a fandango about the room.

"This much," replied her husband, smiling. "Our minds are relieved on one point, at least. Kellam & Blake are respectable attorneys. We will send our communication to Mr. Blake at once, without waiting for Mr.

Bludsoe's enquiries to bear fruit. Your Cousin Adair knows the Scotch firm, and of course vouches for their trustworthiness."

"Dear me, Papa Sherwood, you are so practical!" sighed Nan. She meant "vexing;" they were interchangeable terms to her mind at this exciting point. "Can't you work up any enthusiasm over Momsey's wonderful fortune?"

"Its existence is established, it would seem, beyond peradventure," said Mr. Sherwood drily. "But our attempt to obtain the fortune is not yet begun."

"Why, ee!" squealed Nan. "You don't really suppose anybody will try to keep Momsey from getting it?"

"Exactly that," said her father. "The Blakes are a widely scattered clan. There are probably a number of people as close in blood-tie to the old man who has just died as your mother, my dear. These people may all bob up, one after another, to dispute Momsey's claim."

"But, dear me!" gasped Nan. "The money was willed to Momsey."

"Nevertheless, these other relatives, if there be such--can keep Momsey out of the enjoyment of her rights for a long time. Court processes are slow, and especially so, I should judge, among the canny and careful Scotch. I think we would better leave it to the lawyers to settle. We cannot hasten the courts by worrying over the fortune.

"I think," pursued Papa Sherwood judiciously, "that instead of spending our time discussing and dreaming of the fortune in Scotland, we would better go right on with our tasks here as though there were really no fortune at all."

"Oh, my!" whispered Nan, her eyes clouding. "That's because of my last fortnightly report. I know I fell behind in history and rhetoric."

"Don't be too hard on us, Papa Sherwood," said Momsey brightly.

"Antic.i.p.ation is more than half of every pleasure. I lie awake every night and spend this great fortune of ours to the very last penny."

"Of course," the little lady added, with more gravity, "I wouldn't really spend fifty thousand dollars so recklessly as I do in my mind.

But I can found schools, and hospitals, and educate Nan, and give you, Papa Sherwood, a great big business, and buy two automobiles, and-----"

"Enough! Enough!" cried Mr. Sherwood, in mock seriousness. "You are a born spendthrift, Momsey. That you have had no chance to really be one thus far will only make your case more serious when you have this legacy in your possession. Two automobiles, no less!"

"But I want you both, my dears, to bear one very important fact in mind.

Roughly estimated the fortune is ten thousand pounds. To be exact, it may be a good deal less at the start. Then, after the lawyers and the courts get through with the will and all, the remainder that dribbles into your pocket, Momsey, may be a very small part of ten thousand pounds."

"Oh, how horrid, Papa Sherwood!" cried Nan. "We won't listen to him, will we, Momsey?"

"Oh, yes we will," her mother said quietly, but smiling. "But we will still believe that the world is good and that G.o.d has given us great good fortune. Papa talks very sensibly; but I know that there is nothing to fear. We are going to be very well off for the rest of our lives, and I cannot be thankful enough for it."

At that Mr. Sherwood literally threw up his hands. "Nevertheless,"

he said, "I expect to go to Chicago next Monday, to begin work in the machine shop. The boss writes me that I can come at that time."

"I will get your clothes ready for you, Robert," said Momsey calmly.

"Perhaps you will feel better in your mind if you keep busy during this time of waiting."

Chapter VIII. TWO IMPORTANT HAPPENINGS

It happened, however, that Mr. Sherwood did not go to Chicago to work in the machine shop. Something happened before the week was out, that quite put his intention aside.

Indeed, Nan declared that two important happenings just then changed the current of affairs at the little cottage on Amity Street and that she had a princ.i.p.al part in the action of the first of these unexpected happenings.

It was lovely skating on Norway Pond, and both Nan and her chum, Bess Harley, were devoted to the sport. Nan had been unable to be on the ice Sat.u.r.days, because of her home tasks; but when her lessons were learned, she was allowed to go after supper.

It happened to be just at the dark of the moon this week; that kept many off the ice, although the weather was settled and the ice was perfectly safe. Sometimes the boys built a bonfire on Woody Point, with refuse from the planing mill, and that lit up a good bit of the ice.

But once out on the pond, away from the shadows cast by the high banks, the girls could see well enough. They were both good skaters, and with arms crossed and hands clasped, they swung up the middle of the pond in fine style.

"I just love to skate with you, Nan," sighed Bess ecstatically. "You move just like my other self. We're Siamese twins. We strike out together perfectly. Oh, my dear! I don't see whatever I am to do if you refuse to go to Lakeview with me."

Nan could scarcely keep from telling Bess of the wonderful new fortune that seemed about to come to her; but she was faithful to her home training, and only said:

"Don't fret about it, honey. Maybe something will turn up to let me go."

"If you'd let my father pay your way-----?" insinuated Bess.

"Don't talk of that. It's impossible," said Nan decisively. "It's a long time yet to fall. Maybe conditions will be different at home. A dozen things may happen before school opens in September."

"Yes! But they may not be the right things," sighed Bess.

She could not be too melancholy on such a night as this, however. It was perfectly quiet, and the arch of the sky was like black velvet p.r.i.c.ked out with gold and silver stars. Their soft radiance shed some light upon the pond, enough, at least, to show the girl chums the way before them as they skimmed on toward Powerton Landing.

They had left a noisy crowd of boys behind them, near the stamp Factory, mostly mill boys, and the like. Bess had been taught at home to shrink from a.s.sociation with the mill people and that is why she had urged Nan to take this long skate up the pond. Around the Tillbury end of it they were always falling in with little groups of mill boys and girls whom Bess did not care to meet.