we won’t really annoy her,” said Dorothy. “We just want to make her laugh. College boys, they say, do all sorts of mean things. Make a boy swim in an icy river and all that.”
“I hope Bert never goes to a school where they do hazing,” said Nan, feeling for her brother’s safety. “I think such sport is just wicked!”
“So do I,” declared Dorothy, “and if I were a new fellow, and they played such tricks on me, I would just wait for years if I had to, to pay them back.”
“I’d put medicine in their coffee, or do something.”
“They ought to be arrested,” Nan said, “and if the professors can’t stop it they should not be allowed to run such schools.”
“There,” said Dorothy, “I guess everything is all right for Nellie.” She put a rose jar on a table in the alcove window. “Now I’ll wind the clocks. You mustn’t look where I put them,” and she insisted that not even Nan should know the mystery of the clocks. “This will be a real surprise party,” finished Dorothy, having put each of five clocks in its hiding place, and leaving the tick-ticks to think it over, all by themselves, before going off.
CHAPTER VII
Nellie
“Shall I take my cart over to meet Nellie and Mrs. Manily, mother?” Dorothy asked Mrs. Minturn, that afternoon, when the city train was about due.
“Why, yes, daughter, I think that would be very nice,” replied the mother. “I intended to send the depot wagon, but the cart would be very enjoyable.”
Bert had the donkeys hitched up and at the door for Nan and Dorothy in a very few minutes, and within a half-hour from that time Nan was greeting Nellie at the station, and making her acquainted with Dorothy.
If Dorothy had expected to find in the little cash girl a poor, sickly, ill child, she must have been disappointed, for the girl that came with Mrs. Manily had none of these failings. She was tall and graceful, very pale, but nicely dressed, thanks to Mrs. Manily’s attention after she reached the city on the morning train. With a gift from Mrs. Bobbsey, Nellie was “fitted up from head to foot,” and now looked quite as refined a little girl as might be met anywhere.
“You were so kind to invite me!” Nellie said to Dorothy, as she took her seat in the cart. “This is such a lovely place!” and she nodded toward the wonderful ocean, without giving a hint that she had never before seen it.
“Yes, you are sure the air is so strong you must swallow strength all the time,” and Nellie knew from the remark that Dorothy was a jolly girl, and would not talk sickness, like the people who visit poor children at hospital tents.
Even Mrs. Manily, who knew Nellie to be a capable girl, was surprised at the way she “fell in” with Nan and Dorothy, and Mrs. Manily was quite charmed with her quiet, reserved manner. The fact was that Nellie had met so many strangers in the big department store, she was entirely at ease and accustomed to the little polite sayings of people in the fashionable world.
When Nellie unpacked her bag she brought out something for Freddie. It was a little milk wagon, with real cans, which Freddie could fill up with “milk” and deliver to customers.
“That is to make you think of Meadow Brook,” said Nellie, when she gave him the little wagon.
“Yes, and when there’s a fire,” answered Freddie, “I can fill the cans with water and dump it on the fire like they do in Meadow Brook, too.” Freddie always insisted on being a fireman and had a great idea of putting fires out and climbing ladders.
There was still an hour to spare before dinner, and Nan proposed that they take a walk down to the beach. Nellie went along, of course, but when they got to the great stretch of white sand, near the waves, the girls noticed Nellie was about to cry.
“Maybe she is too tired,” Nan whispered to Dorothy, as they made some excuse to go back home again. All along the way Nellie was very quiet, almost in tears, and the other girls were disappointed, for they had expected her to enjoy the ocean so much. As soon as they reached home Nellie went to her room, and Nan and Dorothy told Mrs. Minturn about their friend’s sudden sadness. Mrs. Minturn of course, went up to see if she could do anything for Nellie.
There she found the little stranger crying as if her heart would break.
“Oh, I can’t help it, Mrs. Minturn!” she sobbed. “It was the ocean. Father must be somewhere in that big, wild sea!” and again she cried almost hysterically.
“Tell me about it, dear,” said Mrs. Minturn, with her arm around the child. “Was your father drowned at sea?”
“Oh no; that is, we hope he wasn’t.” said Nellie, through her tears, “but sometimes we feel he must be dead or he would write to poor mother.”
“Now dry your tears, dear, or you will have a headache,” said Mrs. Minturn, and Nellie soon recovered her composure.
“You see,” she began, “we had such a nice home and father was always so good. But a man came and asked him to go to sea. The man said they would make lots of money in a short time. This man was a great friend of father and he said he needed someone he could trust on this voyage. First father said no, but when he talked it over with mother, they, thought it would be best to go, if they could get so much money in a short time, so he went.”
Here Nellie stopped again and her dark eyes tried hard to keep back the tears.
“When was that?” Mrs. Minturn asked.
“A year ago,” Nellie replied, “and he was only to be away six months at the most.”
“And that was why you had to leave school, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Minturn questioned further.
“Yes, we had not much money saved, and mother got sick from worrying, so I did not mind going to work. I’m going back to the store again as soon as the doctor says I can,” and the little girl showed how anxious she was to help her mother.
“But your father may come back,” said Mrs. Minturn; “sailors are often out drifting about for months, and come in finally. I would not be discouraged—you cannot tell what day your father may come back with all the money, and even more than he expected.”
“Oh, I know,” said Nellie. “I won’t feel like that again. It was only because it was the first time I saw the ocean. I’m never homesick or blue. I don’t believe in making people pity you all the time.” And the brave little girl jumped up, dried her eyes, and looked as if she would never cry again as long as she lived—like one who had cried it out and done with it.
“Yes, you must have a good time with the girls,” said Mrs. Minturn. “I guess you need fun more than any medicine.”
That evening at dinner Nellie was her bright happy self again, and the three girls chatted merrily about all the good times they would have at the seashore.
There was a ride to the depot after dinner, for Mrs. Manily insisted that she had to leave for the city that evening, and after a game of ball on the lawn, in which everybody, even Flossie and Freddie, had a hand, the children prepared to retire. There was to be a shell hunt very early in the morning (that was a long walk on the beach, looking for choice shells), so the girls wanted to go to bed an hour before the usual time.
“Wait
