“Thanks, I’ll be here with bells,” the lad called as he leaped into his waiting car.
CHAPTER XXV.
A JOLLY PLAN
Harold’s little gray “bug,” as he sometimes called the car which he boasted was the speediest of its kind, made the long upgrade in high, and that, being a feat it had not accomplished on its last ascent, so gratified the youthful owner that he swung into the seminary grounds with a flourish. Upon seeing his sister sitting moodily in the summer-house with a novel, unread, on her knee, he ran in that direction, waving his cap gleefully.
“Hello, there, Sis!” he called. “Get on your bonnet and come for a ride. The bug is outdoing itself today.”
The girl, whose eyes were suspiciously red, turned toward him coldly. “Harold, how many times have I asked you not to call me Sis. It savors of kitchen mechanics, and, what is more, I do not wear a bonnet. Finally, I most certainly do not wish to ride in that racer of yours.”
The boy dropped down on the bench on the opposite side of the summer-house and gave a long whistle which equally aggravated his companion. Then, stretching out to be comfortable, he thrust his hands deep into his pockets, as he inquired: “Well, then, Sister Gwynette, will you enlighten me as to why your marblesque brow is darkly clouded?”
The girl’s frown deepened and she turned away from him petulantly. “You know just as well as I do that you care nothing whatever about my troubles,” she flung at him. “You wouldn’t be here now if Mother hadn’t sent you, and I’m sure I can’t see why she did. She cares no more for me than you do, or she would not force me to stay in this prison until the close of the term just for appearance sake. I’m not taking the final tests, so why should I pretend that I am?”
The boy drew himself upright and, leaning on the rustic table which was between them, he said, trying not to let his indignation sound in his voice: “Gwynette, do you know that our mother is very, very ill? She is again in bed and I could only be with her for a few moments.”
Harold paused, hoping that his announcement would cause his listener some evident concern, but there was no change in her expression, and so more coldly he continued:
“Mother said nothing whatever about her reason for asking you to remain here until the term is over, but it is my private opinion that when she did send for you, some sort of a scene was stirred up which made Mother’s fever worse. The nurse probably thought best for Mums to be undisturbed as long as possible.” Suddenly the lad sprang up, rounded the table and sat on the side toward which his petulant sister was facing. Impulsively he took her hand as he asked, not unkindly, “Gwyn, don’t you care at all whether our mother lives or dies?”