Fully expecting Mrs. Frederic Fernell to pour into her ears the story of Rosa’s rebellious habits, with the intention of soliciting Nancy’s aid toward their correction, Nancy instantly assumed the defensive. She did not come out to New Hampshire to reform Rosalind Fernell, and besides that, she was not ready to admit that Rosa needed reforming.
All of which really marked Nancy’s sincerity, for she was by no means a “poser.” She knew she had failings herself, so why should not Rosa have some? Because each differed in her weakness, did that make either less weak or less troublesome? Not according to Nancy’s reasoning, at any rate.
The figure floating into her room, as usual sent a dainty fragrance on ahead.
“I’m so glad you like your scarf, dear,” said124 Betty, sinking into the nearest chair, “and I see you do.”
“Oh, I love it,” said Nancy, forgetting everything else but her gratitude. “Thank you so much for giving it to me—Betty.” She always paused before using the name without any other distinguishing mark of respect.
“I knew it would match you—you are so varied in your own tones. Well, my dear, I do so want you to have a lovely time with Rosa this summer, that I just stepped in to assure you of that. Your Uncle Frederic and I are most anxious to have both of you enjoy yourselves. To help you to do so, we have made some new plans.” The chair with the parrot cushion suited Betty best, so she sank into that as gracefully as usual.
Nancy caressed the playful scarf she still held about her shoulders and she, also, sat down. New plans! She hoped they would not be so very different, for she was only now becoming acquainted at Fernlode, and rather dreaded the unusual.
“It can be terribly dull here,” pursued the125 lady, “and for two young girls especially. So I have coaxed my husband to allow Rosa and you to attend little affairs at our hotel—properly chaperoned, of course,” she concluded.
“At the Sunset Hotel?” queried Nancy, a little uneasily. She had no clothes suitable for such functions, was what she instantly thought.
“Yes, my dear. You see, your Uncle Frederic has implicit faith in the good judgment of our friends the Durands, and they will go with you—they always do attend the Sunset,” said Lady Betty.
“That’s lovely, of course,” faltered Nancy, “but mother had no idea—”
“I understand, dear child,” interrupted the little queen in her lace robes in the big chair. “You shall need pretty things, and I just love to buy them, so I’ve had a box sent in to you. You see, Rosa,” as Nancy was attempting to speak, “has an idea no one can buy anything for her. She is stout, but young enough to grow thin,” said the remote step-mother, “yet, I can’t interfere with Rosa. It just126 makes her more furious.”
“It’s lovely of you to bother with me, Betty, and I do like pretty things. But I hate to give you so much bother.” Nancy felt very stupid making such commonplace thanks. Ted would have choked to listen to that foolish speech. Was Betty going to avoid the troublesome subject of Rosa’s tempers? Was Nancy going to escape the tactful lecture she had felt sure of receiving?
“If things have to be altered Margot will attend to that,” went on the Lady Betty, “and you just wear everything. That’s what they’re for. Have a good time and grow fat! Wouldn’t it be wonderful if some little fairy took from Rosa what she gave to you?”
“I suppose we both could afford at least some of that sort of change,” said Nancy, warming up to Betty’s pleasantries. “But if I had just known what clothes I should have needed, I am sure I would have brought them along.”
“Then, I’m glad you didn’t know. Otherwise I should have missed all the fun of my127 shopping tour. Folks think me very vain, I know,” admitted the pretty Mrs. Fernell, “but I do love beautiful things. I’d like to dress a whole army of girls—”
“But not like soldiers,” ventured Nancy.
“Like the prettiest soldiers in all ages—the girls who fight the battles of wanting things they deserve, yet cannot always have.” In this rather confused speech, even Nancy could see that Betty was trying to avoid reference to her own (Nancy’s) possible needs.
“You are very kind, indeed,” said Nancy quietly.
“Not really. Because, you see, my dear, I have given myself so much pleasure. But I hope things will fit and that you will like—most of them.”
“I’m sure to,” declared Nancy. Then as Betty stood up she asked:
“Isn’t anything in the box for Rosa? If I see that she likes anything may I say you would like her to have it?”
“You clever child!” laughed the lady, and Nancy’s admiration for her charms increased128 with the flow of silvery sounds. “You are really an idealist; you must have everything ideally arranged,” she finished.
“But I am not, really,” protested Nancy, now actually sensing the dreaded lecture.
Nancy felt rather foolish, as any girl would, in spite of the way Betty complimented her, for back of it all she was sure, quite positive the real point of the talk lay in the need of Rosa for healthy companionship. Not that Nancy wasn’t grateful for the co............