Nan wondered.
Chapter XIV. AT THE LUMBER CAMP
Nan said nothing just then about her queer little visitor. Aunt Kate asked her when she came out of the east room and crossed the chill desert of the parlor to the general sitting room:
“Did you have a nice sleep, Nannie?”
“Goodness, Auntie!” laughed Nan. “I got over taking a nap in the daytime a good while ago, I guess. But you come and see what I have done. I haven't been idle.”
Aunt Kate went and peeped into the east chamber. “Good mercy, child! It doesn't look like the same room, with all the pretty didos,” she said. “And that's your pretty mamma in the picture on the mantel? My! Your papa looks peaked, doesn't he? Maybe that sea voyage they are taking will do 'em both good.”
Nan had to admit that beside her uncle and cousins her father did look “peaked.” Robust health and brawn seemed to be the two essentials in the opinion of the people of Pine Camp. Nan was plump and rosy herself and so escaped criticism.
Her uncle and aunt, and the two big boys as well, were as kind to her as they knew how to be. Nan could not escape some of the depression of homesickness during the first day or two of her visit to the woods settlement; but the family did everything possible to help her occupy her mind.
The long evenings were rather amusing, although the family knew little about any game save checkers, “fox and geese,” and “hickory, dickory, dock.” Nan played draughts with her uncle and fox and geese and the other kindergarten game with her big cousins. To see Tom, with his eyes screwed up tight and the pencil poised in his blunt, frost-cracked fingers over the slate, while he recited in a base sing-song: