The girls all admitted that it was the very strangest thing that could possibly have happened! The Hall did not seem like itself. The students stood around in groups and talked about it. The reckless ones took advantage of it and did almost as they pleased. The more conscientious pupils said: "We must help Dr. Beulah all we can by being particularly good just now." The younger pupils went past a certain closed door behind the main stairway on the first floor on their tiptoes and with hushed voices.
For four whole days nobody saw Mrs. Cupp about Lakeview Hall!
The girls were told that private business had called her away. But some of the older ones, especially friends of Nan and Bess, knew that it was Miss Vane's business, and not the matron's that had called the latter away. Mr. Mason had gone into court on behalf of young Hiram Pease, made the town farm authorities show cause why they had ever bound the boy out to Miss Vane, the village milliner, and made rather pointed inquiries as to what had become of the legacy that Hiram's great uncle had left him.
In the end the local paper told all about it. And, really, there was nothing in the story to hurt Mrs. Cupp's reputation, and the only fact brought out in the testimony against Miss Vane was that the maiden lady had not understood boys, and had been so harsh to Hiram that he had run away and for more than six months had haunted the old boathouse below Lakeview Hall, living precariously on what he could pilfer here and there.
In the end, Hiram's affairs were straightened out and a kindly clergyman was made guardian of the boy during his minority. He was to have an education and a chance to be like other boys. Mrs. Cupp came back to her duties as grim as ever, and nobody dared to question her about it, least of all any of the girls.
The Christmas holidays were approaching, and Grace Mason brought an invitation from her mother for Nan Sherwood and Bess Harley to spend a portion of the vacation at the Mason home in Chicago. Bess accepted eagerly, for the Masons were very delightful people, and an invitation to their town house was a compliment indeed.
Nan, however, answered no. "I am sure I cannot do it, Gracie," she said, over and over again. "I have to meet my father and mother when they come back from Scotland, and go home to Tillbury with them. And--and my school days are quite, quite ended. I shall have to begin to think of more serious things."
She would give Walter no more satisfaction, either. Even when Mrs. Mason wrote a personal note to Nan, repeating the invitation, the girl could only write in return that she saw no possibility of circumstances allowing her to be with her friends in Chicago during the holidays.
This only goes to show how little we really know in this world of what is to happen to us, even in the immediate future; for if the reader cares to learn what actually happened to Nan and her friends that very vacation at the Mason city home, she need only read the next volume of this series, entitled: "Nan Sherwood's Winter Holidays; Or, Rescuing the Runaways."
How such a change came about in Nan's plans and circumstances, was a great surprise, indeed.
The end of the term was in sight. Nan had caught up in her missed studies and her standing was very satisfactory, indeed. Dr. Prescott had praised her for her record.
"I shall be as sorry to lose you, my dear, as any pupil I ever had,"
declared the preceptress. "And I still hope that some way may be found to make possible the continuation of your course here at the Hall."
That had pleased Nan immensely; but she had no hope of the principal's wish coming true. She tried to keep her record high to the very last day, not even neglecting Professor Krenner's lectures upon architectural drawing.
Amelia and Nan attended the last of these one afternoon at the professor's cabin, up the lake shore. They skated up the cove to the strait behind the Isle of Hope. In warm weather the girls sometimes went picnicking to the Isle of Hope. It was a rocky eminence thrust out of the lake, half a mile off the mainland.
Professor Krenner's cabin was a very cozy place--a single big room, with a fireplace at either end in which the flames now leaped ruddily among the birch sticks, and with a corner cut off with Navajo blankets for a bedroom. One side wall was hung with the professor's drawings; the one opposite with many cured skins of birds and beasts, for the professor was a taxidermist.
When the work of the architectural drawing class was over, Professor Krenner took his silver bugle down from the wall and went outside with the girls to wake the echoes on the Isle of Hope. He had just lifted the bugle to his lips and sent the first call ringing across the ice:
Ta-ra! ta-ra! ta-ra-ra-ra! Ta-_rat_! when Amelia seized Nan by the arm and cried:
"Oh! who's coming?"
They all looked down the strait. A figure in a red cap was dashing up the ice at great speed, and waving a tippet in a most excited manner.
"Why!" gasped Nan. "It's Bess!"
They went down to the shore to meet Nan's chum. Bess rushed up to them and threw herself into Nan's arms.
"Guess! Guess what's happened, Nan Sherwood!" she fairly shrieked.
"I--I couldn't," gasped Nan, actually turning pale.
"You've got to! You've got to guess! It's the very wonderfulest thing----"
"'Wonderfulest'?" murmured "Procrastination Boggs." "That's a new one.
I'm going to look it up."
"I couldn't guess, Bess," said Nan again, weakly.
"You haven't got to leave Lakeview Hall!" cried the delighted Bess. "You are coming back next term!"
Nan's color came back. She sighed and wiped her eyes. But she shook her head slowly. "No, dear, I told you before I could not accept your father's help. It would not be right," said Nan.
"Oh, nonsense! Who said anything about that?" demanded Bess, in disgust.
"I heard 'em talking about it! Things are all right! Your folks have got some money after all! And they sent me after you!"
"Who sent you after me?" suddenly cried Nan, seizing the reckless and excited Bess by the shoulders.
"Oh! oh! ouch! Dr. Beulah, of course!"
"What for?" demanded Nan, exasperated, and fairly shaking her.
"Why----Oh! didn't I tell you? Nan _dear_! Your father! And your mother!
They have just arrived from Scotland, and they are waiting for you now in Dr. Beulah's office!"
Joy never kills--that is sure. But when she was folded in "Momsey's"
arms, and "Papa Sherwood" stood by waiting his turn to hug his plucky little daughter, Nan really thought her heart would burst, it beat so hard.
It was not until later that she heard about the money, or cared to ask about it. Her parents had settled their business in Scotland so suddenly and had left for the United States so hurriedly, that they could send no further news about the settlement of Hughie Blake's legacy.
Under the Scotch law, no matter how many times a man has been married or how many children he has, he can will his personal property as he pleases. The two women who claimed the Laird of Emberon's steward as their parent could fight in the courts for possession of his real estate only; and most of the wealth Hughie Blake had amassed was in cash-in-bank.
Therefore Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood came home amply supplied with funds and the possibility of poverty for the family retreated below the horizon for the time being, at least.
Mr. Sherwood purposed going into business at once, and Nan could return to Lakeview Hall at the opening of the succeeding term. Meanwhile the present term came to a happy conclusion, and Nan and Bess looked forward with gleeful expectation to their visit to Chicago immediately after Christmas.
THE END