The Spanish Chest | Page 4

arm. Her face was red and perspiring and she seemed to be indignantly struggling with feelings too strong for words. Edith could not suppress a stifled laugh as she was ushered from the house in Nurse's grandest manner.
Emerging from her refuge, Edith saw Estelle on the landing, her face pale except for a tiny red spot on either cheek, her eyes unnaturally bright.
"My word, Star!" said Edith, giggling, "didn't you get rid of her finely? What a fearful person!"
"She was impossible," said Estelle. "Oh, Nurse," she exclaimed impetuously, seeing the old family servant still lingering in the hall, "do you suppose only people like that will want lodgings?"
"No, indeed, my lamb," replied Nurse, casting a glance of satisfaction after the cab disappearing from the terrace. "Don't you fret, Miss Star, and don't you take the first people who come. Just bide your time, and there'll be some quality who will be what you ought to have."
"Mr. Angus thought Americans might be rather desirable," said Estelle hesitatingly. To prepare Nurse for such a possibility might be wise.
Nurse pursed her lips significantly. "Well, it's not for me to disagree with the reverend gentleman," she remarked. "And I haven't been in contact with Americans. No doubt they're well enough in their country, but I hope, Miss Star, it'll be some of our people that want to come. Now an elderly couple or some middle-aged ladies would be quite suitable and proper, but Americans--Well, I don't know."
Nurse shook her head dubiously as she left the room. Edith came to put her arms about Estelle.
"What a fearful woman that was!" she repeated, drawing her sister toward the window. "Poor Star, I'm sorry you had to talk to her. Rooms underfurnished, indeed! And you tried so hard not to have them crowded and messed with frightful crocheted wool things. She'd want a tidy on every chair and extra ones for Sunday. And you've made things so pretty, Star!"
"We think so, don't we!" replied Estelle, kissing her little comforter. "Somebody may yet come who will agree with us. We won't give up hope."
Estelle was silent for a moment. She did not want Edith to suspect how very necessary it was that those rooms should prove attractive to somebody.
"Is that the Southampton boat just rounding the point?" she added. "She's extremely late."
"They must have had a rough passage," agreed Edith, looking at the steamer ploughing into the smooth water of St. Aubin's bay. "Let's put a wish on her, Star. Let's wish, hard, that she has on board the nicest people that ever were and that they're coming straight out here and say they'd like to spend the winter with us!"
CHAPTER II
FRAN ENGAGES LODGINGS
"I positively refuse," said Mrs. Thayne, "to go out again to-day. And I wish you wouldn't go either, Wingate," she added to her older son. "That steamer trip was frightful. What a night we did have! As for you two," she went on to Frances and Roger, "I suppose you won't be happy until you are off for an exploring expedition, but I don't see how you can feel like it."
"Why, Mother, I wasn't seasick," said Roger, a handsome, mischievous-looking boy about twelve. "I slept like a log till I heard Win being--hmm--unhappy. That woke me but I turned over and didn't know anything more till daylight."
"I shouldn't have been sick if you hadn't begun it, Mother," observed Frances, turning from the window overlooking the esplanade. "I feel all right now. Mayn't Roger and I go down on the beach or take a car ride?" she asked, eagerly.
"I don't imagine there are any electric cars on the island," said Mrs. Thayne.
"But out here is a funny little steam tram marked St. Aubin's," interposed Frances. "It's going somewhere. Look at the dinky cars with a kind of balcony and that speck of an engine."
"That's a pony engine for sure," drawled Win, joining his sister at the window. Except that he was thin and fragile no one could have known from Win's clever, merry dark face, how greatly he was handicapped by a serious heart trouble. But the contrast between his tall, loosely-knit figure and Fran's compact little person brought a wistful expression into Mrs. Thayne's observant eyes. Win was seventeen and had never been able to play as other boys did. Probably all his life would be different, yet he was so plucky and brave over his limitations.
"There's the Lydia down in the harbor," exclaimed Frances. "My, didn't she wiggle around last night!"
"Lydia, Lydia, why dost thou tremble? Answer me true. Traveler, traveler, I'll not dissemble, 'Tis but the screw.
Lydia, Lydia, why this commotion? Answer me quick. Traveler, traveler, 'tis but a notion. You must be sick!"
drawled Win, following the direction of his sister's glance.
"Win, how bright of you!" she exclaimed. "I wish I could think