Yet the story was true. Nancy was nobody; as the Montgomery and Cora said, her parents might be people of no morals nor breeding. There might be some great shame connected with herself and her family.
The mystery of it all made Nancy very unhappy at times; but not so unhappy as before. Now she had a close friend with whom she could discuss the secret; and Jennie Bruce was just as deeply interested in Nancy’s affairs as was Nancy herself.
“Some day it will come all right, Nance,” the former assured her roommate. “Maybe you and I will find out the truth. Perhaps that O’Brien boy will help. I have great faith in Scorch, and I want to meet him.”
“Oh! do you suppose you and I could go to Cincinnati together!” gasped Nancy.
“Goody! It would be great!”
“And then you could see Scorch.”
“And I want to see that Mr. Gordon. I bet that lawyer knows more about you than he is willing to tell.”
“But perhaps he is doing his best for me, after all,” concluded Nancy, with a sigh.
Number 30, West Side, began to get a new reputation after Jennie came to it. In the first place, Jennie was one of those girls who bring from home to boarding school countless mementoes of their home life and of their family and friends.
Jennie’s photographs and funny pictures, and pennants, and all the other “litter” that a schoolgirl loves spilled over from her own bureau to Nancy’s, and not only was Jennie’s side of the den decorated, but there was plenty to decorate Nancy’s side.