Lucille was ill; she had retired to her bed with a fit of indigestion, and the planning for the Pioneer Stunt, the survey work that Nathalie and her committee were to do, all had to be laid aside as she was instituted head nurse in her cousin’s room.
“Oh, Mother,” she moaned dolefully, as she kissed her mother good-night, “Lucille has been dreadfully cross; nothing pleases her. It has been, ‘Oh, Nathalie, don’t let that wind blow on me! Didn’t I tell you I don’t like rice pudding! Oh, you’re the slowest poke!’ Oh, Mother—” there was a lump in the girl’s throat, “if I hadn’t felt so humiliated at being spoken to in that way, I just believe I would have given her a good shaking.”
“Never mind, Nathalie,” replied Mrs. Page consolingly, “just remember it is another overcome and have patience. She will soon be herself again, you know she has been terribly upset, as she expected to spend a few days with her friend and she is disappointed.”
“Of course, no one ever had a disappointment but Lucille!” exclaimed Nathalie irritably.
“Nathalie!” reproved her mother, with a quick glance at the girl.
“Oh, well, it’s so, Mumsie,” replied her daughter with the tears very near the surface, and then with another kiss she hurried to her bed.
“Have you got your Stunt written?” inquired Helen a few days later from her window as Nathalie sat writing on the veranda. She held her hand up and flourished a couple of typewritten pages as she spoke.
“No, I’m discouraged,” Nathalie lowered her voice. “Lucille has been ill, and I have been kept awfully busy waiting on her. Then when I finally managed to get time to go to the library to get some dates, I lost the whole thing.”
“What—the idea?”
“Yes, the idea, and everything. I had been in the library some time and had just finished. I did not discover my loss until I was almost home, so I hurried back, but the librarian knew nothing about it. I hunted until I was distracted, and then I came home; so that is the end of that. This morning I am trying to think up another one.”