The girl and her dad were inseparable when he could be at home. He taught her more than she had learned from books, and the best of his gifts was a determination to overcome obstacles. When other girls of her age were suffering from the well meant shelter and warning of the home circle, Gloria was absorbing the lessons of courage and determination. And now she was soon to see results. Her dad was going to have his chance. He was to be free from the care of a rather fractious daughter; he was to be unchained from the cottage that always needed a shingle or a daub of paint; he was to go on the trip that would pay its own way and take care of the explorer, while Gloria would be safely imprisoned in a boarding school. She thought of it that way. No love of culture nor hope of new adventure, even such as she had so long and so often read about, presented to her anything like a glowing picture of boarding school life. Kathy Bruen had done something to color up the prospect, but then there was Millie, and Tom, and even her faithful housekeeper and care-taker, Jane Morgan. Jane loved her and she was so faithful! Ever since Gloria could remember it had been Jane.
Jane’s gray head made a second post at the gate just now. Gloria hurried on to answer the unspoken call to supper. Her father would not be home; he only came up the river twice a week in busy season and this was not his night.
“There’s a letter for you, dear,” said Jane, with a smile that betrayed the possibility of good news.
“From Aunt Harriet?”
“Postmark’s Sandford, so I guess it must be,” said Jane, winding an arm around Gloria’s waist as they both moved to the door.
“I’m getting so excited now I can hardly wait,” said Gloria.
Jane threw her head up and turned away slightly, but not too secretly to betray a sigh of regret.
“Of course I hate to leave you, Nanty,” said Gloria, using her pet name coined to be as near “aunty” as no such relationship might imply. “But then—it won’t be for long.”
“I know, Glory. It is going to be just beautiful for you and your dad. As far as I am concerned, I might as well confess, I am aching to get out to sister Mary’s and have a close look at all the children she is constantly sending pictures of. Can’t tell whether they’re white or black, big or little, and as for knowing or guessing which is good or which is a rascal—” Jane stopped as if that were indeed too much even to guess at from the serial snap-shots sister Mary Murdock, of Logan Center, kept sending.
All during supper the two talked of the great prospects ahead, but for once Gloria did not read aloud her letter from Aunt Harriet. She had, however, read it over twice up in her room just before coming down to the table, and what she suspected the veiled references therein might mean, had by no means a pleasant outlook. Aunt Harriet wanted to know if Gloria could go out to her home in Sandford to talk over a matter without her father’s knowledge. She also asked Gloria not to make any new plans until she had talked things over, “because,” the letter stated, “there is something we must consider very seriously, and,” said Aunt Harriet, “I hated to tell you about it before, so I just kept putting it off.” Now that was like Aunt Harriet. She was plainly taking refuge in a foolish excuse, nevertheless that there was really something serious to be considered Gloria had not the slightest, not even the feeblest doubt. She wished she had. The hint was very dark and all black around the edges. Of course, being secret she would not consult the ever faithful Nanty, but without her dad and without her caretaker’s confidence just now, the burden seemed rather heavy. And just when everything was so thrilling! So promising! It couldn’t be that something would prevent her going to boarding school after all her plans were made? And after her father was all ready to take the commission to go abroad on his long hoped-for enterprise?