Dugald Allan’s exclamation had much the character of an explosion. “Diamonds! What nonsense! You’ve risked bereaving three homes for what is probably nothing more than a case of rum. If ever a girl needed a big brother to keep her in check, you do!”
CHAPTER XXIII
DIAMONDS
During the early morning hours of that summer day that Sidney was destined never to forget, the girl passed through every emotion that a fifteen-year-old heart can suffer.
First, to her dismay no one at the cottage had seemed to rejoice, as the crowd on the wharf had rejoiced, at her rescue. When Mr. Dugald led her in Miss Vine was making coffee at the stove and all she said was: “Well, you’re all right! Better go to bed now as quick as you can and keep out from under foot.” Then Mr. Dugald had taken Pola back to the hotel. Aunt Achsa was with Doctor Blackwell and Lavender. Sidney had tried to summon sufficient courage to ask Miss Vine’s forbidding back for some word of Lavender, but the words failed in her throat. Cold, forlorn, hungry, she crept to her room, threw off her clothes and huddled down into the bed-clothes.
They would all blame her—Miss Vine and Mr. Dugald, Aunt Achsa, Doctor Blackwell. Probably now Pola would have more complexes to suffer; Pola’s mother would be angry and they could never be friends again. And Mart—Aunt Achsa had said old Mrs. Calkins could be terrible when she was “worked up!” Even if Lavender lived Aunt Achsa would never forgive her and if he didn’t live—Mr. Dugald had said he was fighting. Those boards creaking faintly meant that Doctor Blackwell and Aunt Achsa were helping Lavender fight. Dear old Lav with his fine dreams!
The desperate longing for Trude shook her. She sobbed into her pillow. And yet the longing brought only added remorse. Trude would scold her. Trude would take her home. That meant stinging humiliation. How Vick would laugh at her when everything was over. A case of rum! Sidney writhed under the soft covers.
Somewhere boards creaked again—Lavender’s fight. Sidney pictured the doctor and Aunt Achsa bending over him. And outside everything was so quiet and gray. That was the way death probably came, Sidney thought.
On the morrow they would send her home—in disgrace. She might not even be allowed to see Lavender, or Mart, or Pola—or Mr. Dugald. Someone would telegraph to Trude and Trude would meet her back at Middletown. She would live a long, sad life of penance behind the crumbing stone wall she had so detested.
But the thought of the wall and the shelter of the old house brought such a surcease of torment that the girl had fallen into a heavy sleep. When she wakened it was to a consciousness of bright sunshine—and someone looking at her, someone different, and someone smiling.
She sat bolt upright and rubbed her eyes. Then she flung out her arms with a low glad cry that was half sob.