On the train at last and headed for the mountains!
That month of preparation had been about the busiest in the lives of the Carter girls. Douglas had graduated at school and taken her examinations for college, besides being the head and guiding star of the family. Her father’s burden seemed to have fallen on her young shoulders; everything was brought to her to decide. Helen was fully capable of taking the initiative but her extravagant tendencies were constantly cropping up, and Douglas was afraid to give her free rein for fear she would overturn them in a ditch of debt.
The letter from their mother had been unfortunate in a measure since it had but strengthened Helen’s ideas on what was suitable in the way of clothes. She wanted to plunge into the extravagance of outing suits and pig-skin shoes and all kinds of extremely attractive camping get-ups advertised in New York papers. Douglas was firm, however, and Helen was forced to content herself with a love of a corduroy skirt, cold gravy in color, with sport pockets and smoked pearl buttons. Lucy had pouted a whole day because she could not have one, too, just like it.
Nan was a great comfort to Douglas as she was fully sensible of the importance of their not charging anything, no matter how small, so that when their father did recover he would not have debts awaiting him. The only trouble about Nan was she was so often in a dream, and her memory was not to be depended upon. With all the good intentions in the world she would forget to deliver a most important message, or would promise and mean to attend to something and then lose herself in a book of poetry and forget it absolutely.
Lucy was gay and bright and very useful when it came to running errands. Her only trouble was the constant sparring with Helen, whom she secretly admired more than any one in the world.
Master Bobby had spent a blissful month of “shoving” for Dr. Wright. Dr. Wright had a theory that all children were naturally good and that when they were seemingly naughty it was only because they were not sufficiently occupied.
“Give the smallest child some real responsibility and he is sure to be worthy of it. If their brains and hands and feet are busy with something that they feel is worth while, children are sure to be happy.” Bobby had sat in his car a half hour at a time, while the doctor was busy with patients, perfectly happy and good, contenting himself with playing chauffeur. He would occasionally toot the horn just to let the passer-by understand that he was on the job.
The beloved home had been put in apple pie order and handed over to the poor, rich fugitives from the war zone. The kind old cook had bidden them a tearful farewell and betaken herself to her new place after careful admonishings of her pupil, Helen, not to let nobody ’suade her that any new fangled yeast is so good as tater yeast.