“We will pay them immediately, Nan,” said Douglas. “I am so thankful that father did not see them. It would be so hard on him that I am sure much of the good that has come to him from the long rest would be done away with.”
“Do they make you blue, these bills?”
“No, indeed! Nothing will make me blue now that mother has given up making me be a debutante. I can go on working and make more money to take the place of this we shall have to take out of the bank to pay for these things mother bought. But just suppose she had carried her point and forced me into society. I could have earned no money and would have had such a lot spent on me. Why can’t she see, Nan?”
“She is color blind, I think, unless it is couleur de rose. We must be patient with her, Douglas.”
“All right, grandma!” And if Mrs. Carter could have heard the peal of laughter from Douglas, she would not have thought her lifeless and listless. “You are such a dear little wise old lady, Nan!”
CHAPTER XIII
TEAKETTLE
The fallen tree where Nan and Dum Tucker had chosen to have the picnic proved to be most attractive. It was a great oak that had attained its growth before it had been felled in some wind storm, and now it lay like some bed-ridden old giant who refuses to die. Part of the roots held to the soil while part stood up like great toes, poking their way through the blanket of ferns and moss that were doing their best to cover them. This tree not only clung to its old branches but had actually the hardihood to send out new shoots. These branches were not growing as the limbs of an oak usually grow, with a slightly downward tendency from the main trunk, but shot straight to the sky, upright and vigorous.
“It is just like some old man who has to stay in bed but still is open to convictions of all kinds, who reads and takes in new ideas and is willing to try new things and think new thoughts,” suggested Page Allison.