Mrs. Page had evidently come to the same conclusion, so they slowly turned and retraced their steps back to the house, and in a short space she was seated on the veranda with her darning, as Nathalie started for a walk. As she passed the red house, and caught sight of the silver-haired old lady knitting at the window she quickly turned her head away, determined to ignore her in the future. “And so this is the end of our acquaintance with our next-door neighbor,” she mused ruefully, as she passed on down the road. “Well, it certainly did not prove very progressive. Of course I don’t really care,—she’s just an old lady,—but still I do wish Cynthia Loretto had stayed up in her old studio, and not made trouble for us by her unkind ways.”
CHAPTER XI
THE RIDE THROUGH THE NOTCH
Notwithstanding that the inmates of Seven Pillars were neighbored by a disagreeable old lady, as Nathalie had mentally dubbed the occupant of the red house, the time passed pleasantly to the girl, although she had days when she longed to see Helen, to open her heart to her in confidential mood. But the lonesomeness gradually lessened, occupied as she was with her manifold household cares, her exploring trips, her visits to the Sweet-Pea ladies, and the sometime prowl for the mysterious It. To her satisfaction she soon found that by hurrying a little over her morning tasks, she not only had time to read to her friend, and to help Mona at her work, but that she did not have to miss her walks.
She finally succeeded in getting Janet to go with her to the tea-house, and that volatile young woman was so won by the charming personality of the invalid, and the sweet patience of Mona, that she not only played during her call, but made arrangements to come down twice a week and give them a musical afternoon, to the great joy of the invalid.
On one of these days a party of ladies from the Hotel Look-off, out for an afternoon constitutional, dropped in for a rest and a cup of tea. They were so pleased that they told others about these musical afternoons, so it soon became quite the fashionable thing to drop in at the Sweet-Pea Tea-House, especially on Wednesdays and Saturdays. On these days a score of ladies, old and young, could frequently be seen having a social chat over the teacups, while listening to some popular ragtime air, or a classic from one of the old composers, while knitting for the soldiers.
There had been one unpleasant occurrence that had jarred Nathalie extremely, and that was that Cynthia Loretto, when she learned of the Sweet-Pea ladies and the musical afternoons, was quite insistent that Blue Robin take some of her paintings and etchings down, and hang them up so that they could be seen, in the hope of making a sale.
Nathalie, at first, had refused to accede to this request, and then she began to argue with her conscience, giving for her refusal many reasons that only existed in her imagination. Finally, Mrs. Page, with her motherly intuition, perceiving that her daughter was at war with her better self, one day led the conversation to the subject, by saying that she thought it was almost pathetic the way Cynthia yearned to make money so she could marry Mr. Buddie.
“You must remember, daughter,” she persuaded, after listening to the girl’s objections in regard to the paintings, “that even if you are not attracted to Cynthia, she has feelings, hopes, and disappointments as well as you. Some day, perhaps, you may be old and alone in the world with your living to earn, and will be almost willing to make a bore of yourself if you can only earn a little money so as to give yourself some pleasure.” Nathalie made no reply, but somehow she began to question if she were really trying to live up to her motto to be helpful and kind, or was it just a make-believe thing with her, as she called it. The next day she reluctantly broached the subject to Miss Whipple, and, to her surprise, found that she would be very pleased to have the paintings and etchings on the wall. “The room really needs papering,” the lady explained, “and they will help to hide such disfigurements as stains and tack-holes on the faded paper.” This conclusion settled the matter very satisfactorily to Cynthia, and made Nathalie rejoice that she had, after all, come out conqueror in her fight with self.
The girl had begun to wonder why she did not hear from Mrs. Van Vorst as to when her boys were coming, when a letter arrived. To her great joy it announced that they would be due at the Sugar Hill station the following Saturday, as they would leave New York in the White Mountain express, probably reaching their destination about seven in the evening.