The girl’s face darkened. “That was the last mean thing Anselo Spico did to me. He found me playing the banjo, and it seemed to anger him, or some memory was called up by it that he did. Anyhow he seized it and smashed it to pieces on a rock. How I’ve hated him ever since!”
Again there was one of the swift changes, and Nan turned toward the boy a face softened and beautified with tender memories. “My father played before the Queen of Rumania once and received a medal. Manna Lou told me.”
The boy was indeed puzzled. “It’s all a mystery and I’m afraid I won’t be able to fathom it,” he told himself.
“And now I am to be a musician, and I shall play before a queen,” the girl leaped to her feet and was dancing about on the hard sand, startling to flight a flock of shining winged white-gulls that circled in the air over the sea. The boy also rose and feeling much stronger, he tried to dance, but was soon out of breath and laughingly sank back on the sand higher up where it was dry and warm.
“What I need,” he said to himself, “is a costume to match Lady Red Bird’s. Then I will be able to dance with her.”
The idea pleased him, and he thought of it, smiling to himself.
At last the hour came for their parting. “Remember our agreement. Tomorrow will be Thanksgiving and we are to go for a horseback ride.” Then catching both hands of the girl, the boy looked into her laughing eyes as he said with sincere earnestness. “If I have indeed regained my strength, I have no one to thank but Lady Red Bird.”
“Oh, yes you have. It was Doctor Wainridge who brought you here. You must thank him as well.”
“And also dear gentle Miss Dahlia,” the lad concluded, “Good-bye until tomorrow.”