“Thank you,” said the boy. “I’ll not forget.”
The great mill owner was not at all a hard person to talk to. He seemed to understand “just as a boy would,” Will afterward told Mrs. Carden. And when he left the office it was with the pleasant sensation that he had made a new friend — one that could be relied upon almost as much as old Dr. Meigs.
Mr. Jordan was staring at him fixedly as he walked out; but he said nothing about the visit, either then or afterward when he met Will at supper. But once in a while he would turn his queer spectacled eyes upon the boy, as if he had just discovered a new interest in him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AN AFTERNOON CALL
NEXT afternoon Will put on his best clothes and walked up to the big house.
On the way he was undecided whether to go to the front door or the back one. Never before had he entered the place as a guest, and in the end he wisely compromised by advancing to the side entrance that he had observed was mostly used by the children.
Annabel saw him from the window and beckoned him in, her face all smiles of welcome, and that helped him to retain his composure.
“Come right in, sir,” said Fanny, the maid who admitted him. “Miss Annabel’s not allowed to go to the door yet.”
“Hello, Will,” said the girl, shyly slipping her hand in his. “I’m awful glad you’ve come, for everybody has gone out and left me today.”
“Why, Nan, how white you look!” he exclaimed. “That water in the pond must have been pretty cold for you.”
“No more than for you, Will,” she replied.
“But it wasn’t the cold, you know; ‘twas the awful fear of dying — of being drowned and lost under the ice,” and she looked at him with big eyes into which a shade of fear crept at the very recollection of that dreadful moment.
“There, there, Nan,” said he soothingly; let’s sit down and talk about something else,” and he led her to a sofa, still holding her small white hand in his brown one.
The girl glanced at him gratefully. Will seemed to understand her even better than Mary Louise did; and he had a gentle way with her that was at once pleasant and comforting.
“Where did the folks go?” he asked, with well assumed cheerfulness.
“Out coasting. The hill back of Thompson’s is just fine, now — as smooth as glass, Ted says. I’d like to be with them, for my sled’s the swiftest of them all, but,” with a sigh, “Doctor Meigs, says I must stay in the house for three days. Isn’t it dreadful, Will?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Nan. He’s usually right about these things; and it seems mighty pleasant in here,” glancing around at the cozy room with its glowing fire in the grate.
“It’s nice now,” she answered, sweetly, and Will looked at her with sudden interest. He had never before noticed how bright and fair Annabel’s face was. The freckles didn’t seem to mar it a bit, and the nose turned up just enough to make her expression jolly and spirited. And as for the hair, the red was almost pretty where the firelight fell upon it.
Will had paid no attention until now to girls’ looks. A girl had seemed to be “just a girl” to him. And he, as well as her brothers and the other boys, had often teased Nan about her red hair and pug nose, without observing either of them very closely. But today he began to think all the fellows must have been blind, and that the girl’s claim to beauty was greater than any of them had ever suspected.
Somehow, too, Annabel’s accident and near approach to death seemed to have changed her. At any rate she was never the same to Will afterward. He couldn’t well have explained how she was different, but the large blue eyes had a new look in them, she was less romping and boisterous in her ways and gentler in her speech.
She sat quietly in her corner of the sofa, a demure and almost bashful look upon her pleasant face. But in her natural and simple way she entertained her boy friend so cleverly that he never suspected he was being entertained at all.
“Papa says you’ve been to see him, and that you two have become great friends,” she remarked.
“Mr. Williams was surely very nice to me,” he answered, with enthusiasm. “I’m sure your father’s a good man, Annabel.”
“The best in the world, Will. We’re always happy when father’s home. But that isn’t very often, you know, he’s so busy.”
There was a pause, after that, which neither noticed.
“Nora says you grow those lovely mushrooms we’ve been having lately,” she said. “Do you, Will?”
“Yes; didn’t you know it? In the old barn. Doctor Meigs and I are partners. Do you like mushrooms, Nan?”
“Very much; and so does papa.”
“I’ll bring you some tomorrow,” he promised, greatly delighted to find something he could do for her.
“That will be fine,” she answered; “because, if you bring them, we can have a talk, you know. And it’s sort of dull, staying in the house all day. The others are out every minute of the time, for school begins again next Monday, and they want to have all the fun they can while vacation lasts.”
“That’s natural,” said Will. “It’s too bad you have to stay in during vacation. Say, Annabel, do you like to read Indian stories?”
“I don’t know; I’ve never read any.”
“I’ve got a swell Indian book at home; one that the Doctor gave me on my birthday. It’s all about Dick Onslow among the red-skins, and I call it a corker!”
“I’d like to read it,” said Annabel, smiling at his enthusiasm.
“Well, I’ll bring it over,” he agreed. “Then when you’re alone, you can read it.”
“Thank you,” said the girl, dreamily.
Then came another pause. It didn’t seem to them necessary to talk all the time; but finally Annabel gave a little start and began speaking of the school and their mutual friends in the village so that the time passed swiftly away and it began to grow dark before either of them noticed it.
But by and by Will chanced to remember that Egbert had been left to tend the fires alone, so he jumped up and said he must go. And Annabel made no attempt to keep him, but stood at the window and waved her hand in farewell as he passed down the walk.
Mrs. Williams had another of her bad head-aches that day, so she did not join the family at the evening meal, a circumstance that filled the children with thoughtless delight.
Mr. Williams was with them, however, for whenever he could be in Bingham he loved to have his family about him, and all the little folks were very fond of him indeed.
“Will was here today,” said Annabel; whereat there was an uproar from the others because they had missed their favorite playmate. And Gladys added:
“I’se busted my top, so Will’s got to make it fixed.”
“He’s coming again tomorrow,” Annabel announced, “to bring me a book, and some mushrooms. Then he can fix the top, Gladys.”
Mary Louise looked at her sister curiously, and even Ted smiled at the wave of red that dyed Nan’s cheeks.
“Seems to me you’re getting pretty thick, just because he dragged you out of the pond,” cried Reggie, mischievously.
“Will’s a fine fellow,” said Mr. Williams, gravely, “and I hope he’ll come often!”
“So does I!” declared Gladys; and then the conversation shifted to another subject, greatly to Annabel’s relief.
Mary Louise was nearer Will’s age than Annabel, being now fifteen and almost on the verge of young womanhood. And Annabel, although little more than a year her junior, had until now been considered merely a romping, careless girl, although it was true she was scarcely behind her sister in the high school classes. Big Will Carden, taller at sixteen than Mr. Williams himself, and strong and manly in build, seemed so much older and more matured than Annabel that it was really absurd for Reginald to couple their names, even in a joking way.
Will came the next day, to find Annabel again alone; but presently little Gladys toddled in and brought her top to be mended, and when he had succeeded in making it spi
n, the little one nestled in his lap with a sigh of contentment.
“Will,” she asked, after a moment of earnest thought, “is you Nan’s beau?”
“Of course!” he replied, laughing gayly. “And yours, too, Gladie!”
That made the wee one smile with satisfaction, and it pleased Annabel also, although she hastened rather awkwardly to talk of Dick Onslow and declare she would enjoy reading of his adventures.
On Monday the holidays ended, and Mr. Williams regretfully returned to his office in the city, where most of his time was spent.
Annabel was by this time fully recovered, and went to school with the others; but Will walked home with her that afternoon, and the next afternoon also, and this was enough to start all the older scholars plaguing them, as young folks will do in case of boy and girl friendships, and calling them “sweethearts.”
Will merely laughed and replied good-naturedly to the taunts, and Annabel tossed her tawny head half in pride and half in defiance and told the other girls they were jealous. So it was not long before their comrades tired of teasing them and they were left to do as they pleased.
When spring came on and the weather grew warmer, Will Carden not only walked home from school with Annabel, but came every morning across lots to meet her at the corner of the street near the big house and accompany her to the school. Sometimes Mary Louise or Theodore joined them, but more often they were left to themselves, the boys growling that “Will wasn’t half as much fun as he used to be,” and the girls wondering what he could see in “that freckled-faced Nan Williams” to interest him so greatly.
But the truth was that the two had grown very congenial, and liked to be together. Annabel had learned all about Will’s life and ambitions and understood him as no other companion had ever been able to do. He was sure of her sympathy whenever anything went wrong, and knew she would share his joy when he was “in luck.”
It was Annabel who advised him to “make a nest egg” of the forty-three dollars which the doctor paid him in dividends the first of the year, and the girl planned shrewdly in many ways to encourage him and give him confidence in his future. In addition to this, she was more clever in her studies than Will, and often she was of great assistance to him in explaining the lessons when his slower mind failed to grasp the details.
It is not easy to explain how so much real wisdom came to lurk in Annabel’s childish head; but people said she was more like her father than any of the other children. During the months that followed her rescue from the icy pond she grew more sedate in demeanor than before, and more considerate of her brothers and sisters, so that they soon came to look upon her as their mentor, in a degree, and asked her advice about many of the little trials of their daily lives.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE DAWN OF PROSPERITY
IN APRIL Mrs. Williams, whose health had been poor during all the winter, failed so rapidly that the doctor who came from the city to examine her declared she needed an European trip, with a residence abroad of at least a year, in Spain or Italy.
This idea was eagerly seconded by the lady herself, so Mr. Williams at once arranged for her to go. She at first proposed to take Gladys with her, but her husband, guided by Dr. Meigs’ advice, demurred at this, telling her frankly that the child would be better off at home. She wept a little, fearing she would be lonely; but Mr. Williams was firm, and at length she started away with an immense quantity of baggage, a qualified nurse to care for her ailments, and her own maid. Her husband traveled with her to New York, saw her safely aboard her steamer, and then returned to Bingham quite cheerfully, for the poor lady had improved in health and spirits since the day the trip was planned, and he had little doubt the residence abroad would tone up her nerves and restore her to a normal condition.
But, now that his children were without a mother to direct them, Mr. Williams came to the conclusion that it was his duty to spend more of his time at home, so he arranged to be in Bingham the best part of every week, and hired a representative to attend to the city office.
It was now that the father had, for the first time in years, full opportunity to study the disposition and character of each member of his family. They were all dear to him, so it is probable that he discovered many admirable qualities in each of his children; but it did not take him many days to decide that Annabel, especially, was growing into a very sensible and reliable little woman. Mary Louise was sweet and winning as a June rose, and he was very proud indeed of his fair and dainty daughter, but it was Annabel alone who seemed to be interested in him personally, and who questioned him so intelligently in regard to his daily cares and worries, that he soon came to confide in her many of the business details that no one else, save perhaps Mr. Jordan, was in any way aware of.
This drew father and daughter closer together, so that they soon became good comrades and were very happy in one another’s companionship.
One day she said to him: “Papa, I wish you’d build another schoolhouse at the mill. The old one isn’t big enough for all the children of the work-men, and so they’re crowding us out of the village school. We have to hold some of the high school classes over Barnes’ store, even now.”
“Why, I’ll look into the matter,” he answered, rather surprised at a young girl taking an interest in such things. But on investigation he found she was right, and that another schoolhouse was greatly needed in the “new town,” where his cottages stood. Moreover, the school funds of the county and township were exhausted; so one of the things Mr. Williams did that summer was to build a pretty new schoolhouse, which he named “Annabel School,” providing from his own resources for the hiring of proper teachers.
In the fall important changes occurred in the family at the big house. Mrs. Williams wrote that she was so much improved in health that she had decided to extend her residence abroad for some time longer; so the father, doubting his ability to properly direct the education of his growing daughters, decided to send Mary Louise and Annabel to a private academy in Washington for young ladies. This led to Theodore’s begging to be sent to a military school, and his father, after considering the matter, consented. So on the first of September the family practically was broken up; all three of the older children departing for their new schools, while only Reginald and Gladys remained with their father at Bingham. And while these lively youngsters did not permit life at the big house to become very monotonous, Mr. Williams greatly missed the older ones from the family circle. But others missed them, too, and among these was Will Carden, who suddenly found a great blank in his daily existence, caused by the absence of his old school-fellows. Doubtless he missed the companionship of Annabel most of all, for she had been his confidant and most intimate friend.
On the very day of their departure Mary Louise and Annabel drove up in their little pony cart to say good-bye to Will, and now almost every week a little letter would come from Nan telling him of her school life and asking him about the happenings in Bingham, and especially how the mushroom business progressed.
This business industry of Will’s prospered finely. In July Dr. Meigs gave him three hundred dollars as his share of the profits for six months, and the vegetable garden had also brought in an unusual amount of money; so, for the first time since the father of the family had been lost at sea, the Cardens found themselves in possession of a nice bank account, and were relieved of the little worries that always follow in the wake of poverty.
It was fall, however, before Will and his mother finally decided to tell Mr. Jordan that they would not keep a boarder any longer. He had been with them so long, and his assistance had been so greatly appreciated in the past, that Mrs. Carden felt a natural hesitation in asking him to leave. So Will took the matter into his own hands, and one evening, when Mr. Jordan returned from his walk, the boy stopped him in the little hallway and asked him to step into the sitting room for a moment.
“Perhaps you’ve noticed,” began Will, “that mother has been getting more pale and thin during the last two
or three years. Doctor Meigs thinks it’s because she works too hard around the house; and so do I. So we’ve decided not to keep a boarder any longer, but to let mother take it easy, and rest up.”
Mr. Jordan’s spectacled eyes had been fixed calmly upon the young man’s face from the moment he began to speak. Now he gave a scarcely perceptible start, as if astonished at what he heard, and Will was quick to note it.
“We’re very grateful, you know,” he hastened to add, “for all your kindness in the days when we needed help. But my business is prospering pretty well, just now, and I’m laying by a little money; so we think it’s best to relieve mother of all the work we can.”
The man still stared at him, reading coolly and deliberately every line of the boy’s expression.
“I’d like to thank you, also, for all your kindness to my father, in the old days,” continued Will, after a considerable pause. “Doctor Meigs has told me how good you were to him, and how you loaned him money. And you’ve been a good friend to us ever since.”
Still there was no reply. The man neither acknowledged nor denied that he was entitled to such thanks. He stood upright, facing Will as calmly as ever; yet for a brief moment his body swayed from side to side, and then, as if overcome by a powerful effort, it stiffened again and was still.
The boy had nothing more to add to his dismissal of the boarder, and expected that Mr. Jordan would either reply or go to his room. But for a time he did neither, and the silence and suspense were growing unbearable when at last the man spoke.
“I will retain my room,” said he, “and take my meals in the town. You do not need the room I occupy, and this plan will cause Mrs. Carden very little work.”
Will was puzzled. Why a man of Mr. Jordan’s means should care to remain in such a poor home was a mystery. He could get much better accommodations at the village hotel for about the same sum he paid Mrs. Carden, and he would be more independent there. But while he canvassed the matter in his mind Mr. Jordan suddenly moved away and with slow steps mounted the stairs to his room, thus terminating the interview.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 772