18. Jean’s Romance

Probably the next three days were the longest Kit had ever spent in her life. Under Dr. Gallup’s orders, she remained in bed to get over the shock of her immersion.

“When I don’t feel shocked a bit,” she argued, “I don’t see why I can’t sit in a chair down on the porch.”

“Yes, you just want to pose as an interesting invalid,” Jean laughed. “Becky sent down a stack of books for you to read. Frank and Billie call about six times a day to inquire after you, and Madame Ormond has offered to come and sing for you.”

“Jean, look at me,” said Kit suddenly. “Will you tell me something, honest and true?”

“I think Mom’s calling.” Jean’s voice was rather hurried, as she started for the door.

“No, she isn’t any such thing. I want to know if you and Ralph are engaged. I don’t see why you should try to keep it a secret when everybody thinks you are anyway. And a wedding in the family would be so exciting.”

“Well, all right, yes,” she conceded. “Ralph’s giving me a ring before he leaves. We were going to keep it a surprise until then. We’re not getting married for a long time yet, so don’t start getting excited now.” With that she turned and hurried downstairs.

Kit stared out of the window, rather resentfully. She would be seventeen in November, and Jean was past nineteen. Nineteen loomed ahead of her as a year of discretion, a time when you naturally came into your heritage of mature reason and common sense. The Dean, she remembered, had once remarked that the human brain did not reach its full development until eighteen, and how at the time she resented it, feeling absolutely sure at sixteen there was nothing under the sun she could not understand fully.

But the tumble in the river and peril to her life had left her completely stranded on the unknown shore of indecision. Evidently it was just what Billie had called it, a fool stunt for her to try and row up that river alone. Kit had always gone rather jauntily along doing as she thought best with an unshakable confidence that nothing could happen to her.

Another thing, she had a very uncomfortable sensation, for her enemy had heaped coals of fire on her head and returned good for evil in such an overwhelming measure that she never could repay him. Twenty-four hours had made an enormous difference in her outlook on life.

The afternoon of the third day she was allowed to sit down on the porch. Doris and Jean hovered over her quite as if she was made of glass, and nearly all the cabin colonists visited her in relays. Billie came up last of all, but Frank did not appear.

“He’s gone off up in the hills,” Billie told her, “chasing some kind of a new moth. He said to tell you he would be back to see you later this afternoon. You’d be awfully dead by now, Kit, if he hadn’t happened to see you go down, because I was in the cabin and didn’t know anything about it. But it was just like him to dash after you and pull you out.”

Kit leaned her chin reflectively on her hand. “Heroes are such uncomfortable people in everyday life, Bill,” she said. “Everybody, even Dad and Mom, keep telling me how everlastingly grateful I must be to him for saving my life. I don’t see what I can do except thank him, and I’ve done that.”

“Treat him decently,” Billie suggested, “even if you don’t like him. Hide it.”

“Oh, I like him well enough,” Kit answered, “only he’s never seemed like Buzzy, and Ralph, and you. I guess I’ve always resented everyone thinking he was so wonderful. It was as though he had had a sort of sweet revenge on me for taking him for a berry thief.”

True to his word, Frank came down to see Kit just before dinner with some startling news.

“I’ll be leaving for Europe in another month, Kit. I just received a letter granting me a fellowship to go over there to examine European species of insects. If you’ll be real good, Kit, and never call me a berry thief again, I’ll write to you.”

He was only joking, but there was no answering glint of humor in Kit’s eyes as she said, “I’ll never, never even think of you as a berry thief again, Frank. I didn’t know you were planning to go away off over there, and I’m willing now to say I am sorry for the first day, and Tommy locking you up, and Mr. Hicks coming to arrest you.”

“I do believe you’re trying to forgive me, Kit,” Frank said teasingly. “Is this a truce, or a lasting peace? You see, I want to know for sure, because I haven’t any sisters, or mother, or anyone who cares a rap whether I go or stay, and you’re the first person I’ve even told.”

“It’s peace,” Kit answered, firmly.

Frank was very busy pulling a small box out of his pocket. In it was a silver bracelet on which was engraved a tree. “Keep this so you won’t forget me. It’s an Indian bracelet I brought from New Mexico, and the tree is alive and growing. It isn’t a sunken snag.”

Kit was obviously very pleased and tried to thank him for it but she stopped as Ralph and Jean came slowly up the drive together.

Ralph came up the porch steps and sat down beside her. “Jean told me you guessed our surprise. How do you like your new brother, Kit?”

“I approve,” answered Kit, solemnly. “You know I’ve always liked you, Ralph. Are you going to let her keep on painting?”

“She can do anything she likes,” Ralph promised. “And if she can find any more beautiful scenery than we have in Saskatchewan and through Northwest Canada, she’ll have to show it to me.”

Jean smiled happily but said nothing. She was looking out at the hills but what she really saw was a ranch in Saskatoon.

Transcriber’s Note:

Punctuation has been standardised.