Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp Part 23

Nan suspected that old Mrs. Vanderwiller had much to do with the neat appearance of the cabinet. She was a quiet, almost a speechless, old lady. But she was very kind and she set out her best for Nan's luncheon before the girl from Tillbury returned home.

"We ain't got much here on the island," the old lady said; "but we do love to have visitors. Don't we, Corson?"

"Nice ones," admitted the cripple, munching cake.

He had heard something of what Nan suggested to Toby about the moths and other specimens. So when the old lady was absent from the porch he whispered:

"Say, girl!"

"Well?" she asked, smiling at him.

"Is what's in that cabinet wuth as much as a dollar?"

"Oh! I expect so," said Nan. "More."

"Will you give me a dollar for 'em?" he asked, eagerly.

"Oh, I couldn't! But perhaps I can write to somebody who would be interested in buying some of your things, and for much more than a dollar."

Corson looked disappointed. Nan asked, curiously: "Why do you want the dollar?"

"To git Gran'mom a silk dress," he said promptly. "She's admired to have one all her life, and ain't never got to git it yet."

"I'm sure that's nice of you," declared Nan, warmly. "I'll try to sell some of your collection."

"Well!" he jerked out. "It's got to be pretty soon, or she won't git to wear it much. I heard her tell Gran'pop so."

This impressed Nan Sherwood as being very pitiful, for she was of a sympathetic nature. And it showed that Corson Vanderwiller, even if he was simple-minded, possessed one of the great human virtues, grat.i.tude.

Chapter XXIII. A MYSTERY

On this, her first visit to the island in the swamp, Nan said nothing to old Toby Vanderwiller about the line dispute between her uncle and Gedney Raffer, which the old lumberman was supposed to be able to settle if he would.

Mrs. Vanderwiller insisted upon Toby's. .h.i.tching up an old, broken-kneed pony he owned, and taking her over the corduroy road to Pine Camp, where she arrived before dark. To tell the truth, little Margaret Llewellen was not the only person who thought it odd that Nan should want to go to see the Vanderwillers in the heart of the tamarack swamp. Nan's uncle and aunt and cousins considered their guest a little odd; but they made no open comment when the girl arrived at home after her visit.

Nan was full of the wonders she had seen, commonplace enough to her relatives who had lived all their lives in touch with the beautiful and queer things of Nature as displayed in the Michigan Peninsula. Perhaps none but Tom appreciated her ecstasy over crippled Corson Vanderwiller's collection.

Rafe was inclined to poke good-natured fun at his young cousin for her enthusiasm; but Tom showed an understanding that quite surprised Nan.

Despite his simplicity regarding some of the commonest things of the great outside world, he showed that he was very observant of the things about him.

"Oh, Tom was always like that," scoffed Rafe, with ready laughter at his slow brother. "He'd rather pick up a bug any day and put it through a cross-examination, than smash it under the sole of his boot."

"I don't think bugs were made to smash," Tom said stoutly.

"Whew! What in thunder were they made for?" demanded the mocking Rafe.

"I don't think G.o.d Almighty made things alive just for us to make 'em dead," said Tom, clumsily, and blus.h.i.+ng a deep red.

Rafe laughed again. Rafe had read much more in a desultory fas.h.i.+on than Tom.

"Tom ought to be one of those Brahmas," he said, chuckling. "They carry a whisk broom to brush off any seat they may sit on before they sit down, so's they sha'n't crush an ant, or any other crawling thing.

They're vegetarians, too, and won't take life in any form."

"Now, Rafe!" exclaimed his mother, who was never quite sure when her younger son was playing the fool. "You know that Brahmas are hens.

I've got some in my flock those big white and black, lazy fowls, with feathers on their legs."

Nan had to laugh at that as well as Rafe. "Brahma fowl, I guess, came from Brahma, or maybe Brahmaputra, all right. But Rafe means Brahmans.

They're a religious people of India," the girl from Tillbury said.

"And maybe they've got it right," Tom said stubbornly. "Why should we kill unnecessarily?"

Nan could have hugged him. At any rate, a new feeling for him was born at that moment, and she applauded. Aunt Kate said:

"Tom always was soft-hearted," and her big son became silent. She might as well have called him "soft-headed"; but Nan began better to appreciate Tom's worth from that time on.

Rafe remained in her eyes still the reckless, heroic figure he had seemed when running over the logs the day of the timber drive. But she began to confide in Tom after this evening of her return from the tamarack swamp.

However, this is somewhat in advance of the story. The pleasant evening pa.s.sed as usual until bedtime came for Nan. She retired to her east chamber, for the windows of which Tom had made screens to keep out the night-flying insects. No matter how tired she was at night there was one thing Nan Sherwood seldom forgot.

Possibly it was silly in a girl who was almost through her freshman year at high school, but Nan brought out Beautiful Beulah and rocked her, and hugged her, and crooned over her before she went to bed. She was such a comfort!

So Nan, on this evening, went first of all to the closet and reached down to draw out the box in which she had kept the doll hidden ever since coming to Pine Camp.

It was not there!

At first Nan Sherwood could not believe this possible. She dropped on her knees and scrambled over the floor of her closet, reaching under the hanging skirts and frocks, her fear rising, second by second.

The box was not in its place. She arose and looked about her room wildly. Of course, she had not left it anywhere else, that was out of the question.

She could scarcely believe that any member of the family had been in her room, much less would disturb anything that was hers. Not even Aunt Kate came to the east chamber often. Nan had insisted upon taking care of the room, and she swept and dusted and cleaned like the smart little housewife she was. Aunt Kate had been content to let her have her way in this.

Of course Nan never locked her door. But who would touch a thing belonging to her? And her doll! Why, she was sure the family did not even know she had such a possession.

Almost wildly the girl ran out of her chamber and into the sitting room, where the family was still gathered around the evening lamp, Rafe cleaning his shot-gun, Tom reading slowly the local paper, published at the Forks, Aunt Kate mending, and Uncle Henry sitting at the open window with his pipe.

"Oh, it's gone!" gasped Nan, as she burst into the room.

"What's gone?" asked Aunt Kate, and Uncle Henry added: "What's happened to you, honey-bird?"

"My Beulah!" cried Nan, almost sobbing. "My Beulah, she's been taken!"

"My mercy, child!" cried Aunt Kate, jumping up. "Are you crazy?"

"Who's Beulah?" demanded Rafe, looking up from his gun and, Nan thought, showing less surprise than the others.

"My Beulah doll," said Nan, too troubled now to care whether the family laughed at her or not. "My Beautiful Beulah. Somebody's played a trick."