“Yes, but he wouldn’t let me come into the kitchen to get Aunt Anna a glass of milk; and when I told him about the broth she needed, I couldn’t make out whether he heard or not, for he paid no attention at all. I don’t think I understand Chinamen. Their faces don’t change, you can’t tell what they are thinking about, and they look as though they knew everything in the world.”
Nancy sighed as she spoke, for she had undertaken the housekeeping, since she had more domestic tastes than her sister. The new and strange difficulties in this establishment in Ely were, however, sometimes rather appalling.
Aunt Anna said very little; she seemed to have small appetite and to be too tired to talk. After dinner Nancy went out to give orders for breakfast, but she came in again looking much discouraged. It seemed impossible for her to get used to Joe Ling with his mask-like face and silent Oriental manners.
The next day Nancy was to try the new horse; but she was not so good a rider as Beatrice, and the astute Buck, guessing that fact at once, took liberties with her that she did not enjoy. She gave her sister a lively account of her misadventures in the evening when they were going to bed.
“I wanted to ride up to your cabin, but Buck had other plans. I saw most of the town and part of this end of the valley and then the pony decided to take me home. Some workmen, coming in from the place where they are digging that big ditch, scowled and stared at me and I didn’t like it. I sometimes wonder a little why Aunt Anna wanted to come here.”
“Who was with her when she was here long ago?” Beatrice asked. “It seems to me that I heard her talking of it to dad, and that she said something about her—her brother.”
“Her brother—why, she hasn’t any but our father,” objected Nancy. “If she had one he would be our uncle, and we would know him. It couldn’t be!”
Beatrice was thinking so deeply that she paused in brushing her hair.
“It does seem as though I remembered about some such person, oh, a very long time ago when we were little. It was some one younger than father or Aunt Anna, with yellow hair like hers. He used to come up to the nursery to play with us, and then all of a sudden he didn’t come any more and no one talked about him, so I just forgot.”
“It is very puzzling,” returned Nancy. “Perhaps we might write home about it, but it would never do to worry Aunt Anna with asking her. Meanwhile we will sleep on it, for it is time to go to bed.”