“You poor girl!” cried the woman, her smile fading, but love and welcome still shining in her big, brown eyes.
She stretched forth her arms and—somehow—Nancy found herself in the tight circle, with her head down in the curve of Jessie Pease’s motherly neck.
“How long ago did you lose them, dear?” asked the good woman.
“Oh, a very long, long time ago,” sobbed Nancy. “I was too little to remember—much.”
“And you’ve missed ’em ever since—you’ve just been honin’ for a mother, I know,” said the woman, crooningly, and patting Nancy’s shoulder.
“There, there, child! It’ll all be strange to you here for a while; but when you can’t stand it any more—when it does seem as though you’d got to be mothered—you come down to the lodge to Jessie Pease. Remember, now! You will surely come?”
“I will,” promised Nancy.
“Now wipe your eyes and laugh!” commanded Jessie Pease. “Why, Pinewood Hall is the finest place in the world for girls—especially for those that are like you. Here’s a great, big family of sisters and cousins ready waiting for you. Get acquainted!”
But that seemed easier said than done. Nancy was not by nature gloomy nor reticent; but it was unfortunate that she had been paired with Cora Rathmore.
From the very first day the black-eyed girl tried to make it as unpleasant as possible for Nancy. Cora had plenty of acquaintances. They were always running into the room. But Cora never introduced any to her roommate.