“No, madam,” Tom answered, with a comical smile. “The last I saw it was drifting out to sea. It is miles away by this time, if some mermaid has not appropriated it.”
CHAPTER XII
TOM AND RENA AT THE WELL
In spite of her assertion that she could not take cold, Irene took one, which, with the nervous shock, confined her to the house for a few days, greatly to her annoyance and the discomfort of the family generally. She was not the most amiable of invalids and was very exacting in her demands upon Rena, who was kept going up and down stairs after things Irene wanted or fancied she did. Every day inquiries for her had come from the McPhersons, with flowers; and every day Tom had called in person to ask after her, and to talk with Rena when she could be spared from her office as nurse; and it was Tom who saw Irene first on the piazza, looking a little pale from her recent illness. He had received a letter from one of his clients which made it necessary for him to go home for a week or so, and as he was to leave that night he had come to say good-by to his cousins. I told him Rena had gone for a walk, adding that I thought she was down in the pine-grove, by Nannie’s Well, as that was her favorite resort.
“Gone to look in?” Tom asked, and I replied, “Possibly. I heard her say she meant to try it sometime.”
“All right. I’ll find her and look in, too,” Tom answered. “But I must see Irene first. Where is she?”
I told him, and he was soon with her, and saying:
“I am glad to see you in so good order. I didn’t know for a minute but you were a goner when you went out of sight, and I began to think of all the mean things I ever did and said to you, even to the angleworm I put on your neck years ago. I really did, and if you had been drowned I believe I should have worn crêpe. I should have jumped in after you if Rex had not got ahead of me. He swims like a fish and the way he brought you to land was beautiful to see. And, I say, that ducking improved your looks, if they could be improved. The loss of your topknot was a good thing.”
“What do you mean?” Irene asked, and Tom replied:
“I mean that you look better with that Eifel tower off your head. It made you too tall.”
“Five feet nine, that’s all,” Irene answered, a little crisply.