“No, but we could learn how to do something,” fended Nancy. “Mother didn’t learn just how to do that either, she simply did it because she knew she should.”
“Oh, yes, certainly,” spoke up Rosa rather apologetically. “Don’t think that I don’t appreciate your mother, Nance. Dad thinks she’s the best little woman there is, but I just didn’t understand.”
“There are a lot of things that neither of us understand,” answered Nancy, suddenly digressing. “I suppose it is because you and I have such different lives. There I live in a Massachusetts town and have only spent my summers at little places just outside, while you—”
“I don’t live anywhere,” moaned Rosa. “I just go from one place to the other like a suitcase or a hat box. School in Connecticut, winters in New York or maybe Boston, vacations in the craziest places in the world, until this summer. I just insisted upon staying here in my own dear mother’s place. She loved Fernlode.”
Gulping on the confection which she should not have eaten, Rosa showed genuine love for the mother who had gone. Respecting her feelings, it was some time before Nancy broke the silence, but when she did so it was of that jolly summer—last summer—at Long Leigh that she talked. She told Rosa all about the Whatnot Shop, about dear little Miss Manners, who had since become one of Nancy’s family by making her simple, humble home with them, and gladly assuming such cares as Nancy’s mother allowed her to take over. The fun every one had in the cistern mystery just sent Rosa off into gales of laughter as Nancy told of it, and while this was the story of Nancy Brandon: Enthusiast, as told in volume one of this series, it was easy to understand how the two cousins enjoyed its telling.
Presently there was a tap at the door, then Margot entered.
“The Durand’s are here—but you mustn’t think of going out, Rosa—”
“I’m going!” threatened the girl with the bandaged ankle, again up “in arms.”