CHAPTER XIII

A SONG IN THE AIR

The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas is like no other. It may bring its problems, as we keep the anniversary, but there is a certain pleasure and anticipation in the very atmosphere, especially among the young. “Do you realize it?” Marta would ask, “--only three weeks now till Christmas?” Next it was only two weeks, then only one and time to pack up.

Ann saw a great deal of Suzanne, for they consulted over gifts for this one and that one at home. Suzanne was good in suggestion for her family, which fact helped Ann not a little. The girls had so little time to shop. But some things were passed over to Ann’s mother to do for her, after the list of what she thought appropriate for each one was made out. For their grandmother and mothers, Suzanne and Ann were doing a little embroidery, that they might offer something of their own.

The music and services at school treated of Christmas and the girls went around humming carols. “It came upon the midnight clear,” “O little town of Bethlehem,” “While shepherds watched their flocks by night,” “There’s a song in the air. There’s a star in the sky,” or “Holy Night” were favorite hymns at Chapel. And when on that last meeting of the society, Eleanor sang “Thou didst leave thy throne and thy kingly crown, When thou camest to earth for me,” she sang with such expression and feeling that Ann received a new impression of a sober and earnest Eleanor, who cared about the higher things. Impressionable Ann was thrilled at her rendering of the last stanza, and poor little Aline, whose mother had so recently joined those heavenly choirs, clutched Ann’s hand and bit her lip to keep back the tears. Aline was going home with Eleanor for the Holidays. It was, however, the second Christmas since the home had been broken up.

Marta was going back to New York with Ethel and Lucile, having added so much to the good time of everybody at Thanksgiving that both families wanted her. Ann was delighted, for she could not bear to leave Marta again at Christmas time. It was with a very happy heart that Ann said her goodbyes at school and rolled away in the ’bus to take the train. This time she and Suzanne were traveling together, in the most amicable way in the world. “O Ann, don’t you _hope_ that we go to Florida?” was a frequent question, put in one form or another, as they drew nearer home. It was home now to Ann, for her dearest and nearest were there now. A jolly telegram from her father had informed her of his arrival.

It kept growing colder, the girls thought, and even in the train they wore their coats, Suzanne’s a fur one. At the village station who should be there but Maurice, handsome in a big fur coat and pulling off gloves, to greet Ann and draw her furs up to her ears. “Got the big sleigh that was Grand-Dad’s, Ann. Thought that I’d give you a real New England welcome!”

Ann was delighted. “Is it really Grandfather’s sleigh, Maurice?” she asked. “It looks perfectly new to me, so pretty, Maurice!”

“The real, sure enough article, Ann. Of course, it has been freshly painted.”

“Give me a warm, closed car for mine,” said Suzanne, shivering.

“No good, Suzanne. Every car we own has something the matter with it; besides, these roads are made for sleighing. It melted, then it froze, slippery as could be,--then the snow; and it is pretty well packed by now. How does it compare with Montana, Ann?”

“‘Comparisons are odious,’ Maurice. This is perfect and nothing can exceed perfection, you know.”

Maurice had put Ann in the front seat, tucking Suzanne in behind with robes galore. Climbing in beside Ann, he made sure that she had the robes well up around her before he started his stamping team. “Look here, Ann,” said he. “I found an old buffalo robe up in the attic, and pleased Grandmother almost to death by bringing it down. It was all done up in moth-balls and things,--what makes you laugh?”

“Its being ‘done up in’ moth-balls.”

“You are too recently in the thralls of some English class, Ann!”

“Bunny, you know!”

“Ah, yes; I’ve heard of her, I believe.”

Ann patted the robe, which was on top of the others. “Think what good times Grandfather and Grandmother had riding around with this!”

“Yes, and I hope that we shall have just as good times.”

Maurice did not look at Ann as he said this, but he drew the robes around her, with an unnecessary care, and gave rein to the pretty blacks.

“I adore black horses,” said Ann. “That is the only drawback to Zep. But Zep’s character makes up for his lacking the ‘coal-black’ color I wanted. You can’t have everything at once.”

“Alas, how true,” remarked Maurice, holding a tight rein. “These fellows want to run. They are feeling their oats to-day.”

“I never saw you drive anything but a car, Maury.”

“Didn’t you? When I was a kid I used to ride everything on the place, with or without a saddle. A boy brought up in the country has a pretty good chance for a fine time.”

“Some way I never thought of you as brought up in the country.”

“I would call ours a country place, wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose so; but you are so close to villages and towns. It isn’t like our ranches.”

“No, that’s so; but I like it all the better. Suzanne, are your feet warm with that little heater?”

“I’m all right, Maury; but my breath freezes when I talk! Please step on the gas!”

Ann laughed at Suzanne’s comical tone. This was just what Ann liked, though she felt of her nose occasionally, from habit, she told Maurice.

“I suppose that you do have it a good deal colder than this in Montana.”

“Yes; but it’s dry, you know.”

“So they always say. I’m going out there some time and see if it is true.”

“Isn’t that nice of you to doubt my word!”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, Ann. I just make allowances for local pride. The first winter that you spend out there I’m coming.” Maurice gave Ann a swift look, then let the horses go a little faster. “How do you like the tone of our sleigh-bells, Ann? They are the old ones, from ‘time immemorial,’ Grandmother says.”

“It’s just too Christmasy for words! Please take me out again while I’m here.”

“As often as you want to go. Ron says that we are going to get up a sled party some night, a regular old-fashioned jaunt, you know.”

“That will suit me, Maurice. But where is my wandering father? Why didn’t he care enough for his daughter to come after her?”

“Say, Ann--that is hard on me. Not content with her gay cavalier, she is crying for Papa! Suzanne, do you realize that the thermometer has dropped at least ten degrees? Git-ap!”

“Honestly, Maurice? How do you know?” called Suzanne, above the jangling bells.

“He is just joking me, Suzanne. Don’t pay any attention!”

“Well said, Ann. I won’t.”

“Your father, Miss Sterling, when I last saw him, was sitting before a rousing fire in Grandmother’s biggest fire-place. I begged him to accompany me, but saying that he was not accustomed to such severe weather in Montana, he refused and continued to talk politics with Dad.”

“I’ll find out the truth yet, Maurice Tyson,” laughed Ann. “Oh, here we are! How beautiful everything looks! I do love this place!”

“I’m glad that you have gotten that far, at least.”

The LeRoy place was worthy of Ann’s exclamation. She had last seen it with its waving foliage on the tall old trees, and the flowers, carefully tended, along the walks or in beds upon the lawn. Now the trees, as on the campus at Forest Hill, were laden with snow, the evergreens bending to the ground where the broad spruce branches spread their beauty. The shrubbery along the curving drive bore also the white wintry blossoms from the snow drifts. The walks had been cleared and the entrance was free from snow.

Maurice fairly lifted Ann from the sleigh and turned to help Suzanne out of her nest of blankets. But Ann had gone on to meet a big man, who came out upon the veranda to find his little girl and take her in a fatherly embrace. “You shouldn’t have come out without a hat, Daddy. Maurice says that you are not used to cold, so couldn’t come to meet me.”

“I’ll have to have it out with Maurice,” said Mr. Sterling. “But it was comfortable before the fire this morning; and as I saw that Maurice preferred to meet you himself, I let him do it. Does he make love to you very seriously?” Mr. Sterling, Ann saw, was in joking mood.

“Not so very, Daddy. I’ll not have to call on you to send him away yet.”

And here was Mother, sweet and happy, all her precious family together at last, under Grandmother’s roof. Ann had a glimpse of Aunt Sue and Uncle Tyson, as she passed the door on her way to the stairs; but they waited until the travelers should come downstairs to greet them. Aunt Sue, Ann thought, would not care for embraces from cold arms. Adeline was waiting for Ann, to take her wraps and make her comfortable, while Felice performed a like service for Suzanne. The house was warm and Adeline brought Ann a hot cup of chocolate with some wafers.

“You knew that I liked chocolate better than tea, didn’t you, Adeline?” said Ann, as she sipped the hot drink.

“Your mother reminded me, Miss Ann.”

As soon as Ann’s toilet was properly made, according to Adeline’s notion rather than to Ann’s, she hurried to her grandmother’s room and rapped. Nancy, smiling broadly, opened the door, and beyond were the open arms of Grandmother.

“Dear child, dear child! How glad I am to see you! Your Grandmother is getting so she can scarcely spare you any more!”

“Good, Grandmother! It is fine to hear that. I hope that we can be together except in school time, and we might even manage that sometimes, if you would come oftener.”

“When you go to Paris to study, I’ll go with you,” laughed Grandmother. She waved Ann to a seat near her and asked to hear the latest school news. How glad Ann was that there were no more things to be explained, no more uncertain strivings to find and destroy the cause of misunderstanding. “Your father seems to be having a pleasant visit,” said Madam LeRoy proudly.

“I never saw Dad look happier,” agreed Ann. “We are all happy,--I hope.” Ann added that, for she wondered about Aunt Sue. “It will be a wonderful Christmas time. Why, Maury brought us home in the ‘family sleigh,’ so pretty, with its curves and fine fittings!”

“Did you like it? That old sleigh has quite a history. I will tell you some of it this vacation, when there is an opportunity. But tell me more about those girls,--the Jolly Six, is it, or have you more in numbers, as you had in Montana last summer?”

“The Jolly Six still exists, but they are not all of my friends, by any means. We have had a wonderful time, rushing girls for the ‘Bats’ and ‘Owls,’ and Suzanne is so much happier and better off in the new suite.”

“I never liked her friendship with Madeline Birch,” said Madam LeRoy, “but I did not like to insist on her rooming with you last year, after Sue explained the arrangement, though it was largely for your sake that I let it alone. Although you and Suzanne are cousins, and Suzanne is a dear child, it does not necessarily follow that relationship makes people congenial. So it was that I did not interfere.”

“I was perfectly willing to room with Suzanne, this year; but after the arrangements had been made, it scarcely seemed fair to Marta. Miss Tudor arranged it very sensibly, I thought.”

“What did Madeline think of the new arrangement?”

“She would not speak to Suzanne; but what with the Sig-Eps saying that it would not do to keep mad, and Miss Tudor’s putting just the right girls with Madeline and Genevieve, it all blew over. Suzanne told me that Madeline will be at her Christmas party!” Ann’s bright face looked up into the amused face so like her own in expression, at times.

“We have a new club now, the ‘Scribblers’ Club.’ Eleanor asked me if I did not want to be a famous authoress, so I am considering the matter! I haven’t written the great composition as yet, the one that will entitle me to membership, but I am hoping to get an inspiration this vacation.”

“Write about your mountains, Ann, or something in Florida, when you get there.”

“Am I really going, Grandmother?”

“Of course you are. I would not go without you. Your mother and father would not have so good a time and we would all of us be saying, ‘How I wish Ann were here.’”

Grandmother, with her head on one side, was looking at Ann with a quizzical smile; but Ann knew that she meant what she was saying at that.

“It is fine to be of so much importance,” returned Ann.

“My elder daughter and I have about come to an agreement in regard to where and how we go, which is high time, since we start as soon after Christmas day as possible.”

“I just can scarcely believe it, Grandmother. What is Florida like?”

“Like no place else in the United States and worth seeing, at least once. I think that I will buy a place there this time, if we find what we want. You can help me select it. How would you like that?”

“I’m afraid that I would not know enough about it. But if there are no mountains in Florida, let’s get a place near the ocean. I’ve never even seen it, you know.”

“Is that so, child? You will see it shortly, then, and the Gulf, too, if you would like. It is likely that your father will want to take some auto trips over the state. You can see it better in that way, if the roads are good.”

“The Gulf of Mexico, I suppose you mean. Have you an atlas, Grandmother? I don’t know a thing about Florida, except the outline of it that I used to draw with the map of the United States. There is Lake Okeechobee, I remember, and the Everglades are there.”

“There ought to be atlases enough for your purpose in the library, Ann. It is not a bad idea to have some idea of the geography before you go. But have you had a visit with your father yet, Ann? I heard the bells that accompanied you not very long ago, it seems to me.”

“No,--I haven’t visited with any one yet; but I saw Daddy a few minutes before I went upstairs. I came around here as soon as Adeline was through with me.”

“That was good of you, my child. Come; I will go with you, and we will join the family. Nancy has been fixing a dress for me. You do not need me any more, do you, Nancy?”

“No ma’am. I know what you want done now.”

They met Mrs. Sterling on the stairs. She was going up to see what detained her daughter, though she had surmised that Ann would see her grandmother as soon as she dressed. Mr. Sterling made room for Ann beside him on the davenport, in front of the fire, though not too close. His strong arm went around her and Ann leaned against him, safe with Daddy once more. Mrs. Tyson had met Ann cordially when she entered the room and Uncle Tyson had welcomed her with his usual courtesy. Suzanne had not yet come down, nor was Maurice present; but Ann had not listened long to the conversation of her elders when he appeared and drew Ann away from her father to talk to him.

Looking out of the window as they stood by a little table near it, Maurice pointed to a red-coated little figure struggling through the deep snow between walk and drive, and dragging a sled after him. “Aren’t kids funny?” asked Maurice. “Roy would rather go through the snow than go around by the walk. I used to think it fun myself. He’ll come in all wet, and with ice-cold feet, and say that he has had a great time!”

“Bless him!” murmured Ann. “I’ll go out and see him.” With Maurice, Ann went through the devious passages of the old house to the kitchen and the back porch, where Roy, as commanded of him, would make his first appearance. Madge, who had been reading in the library and had not even heard the bells which announced the arrival, came out into the hall, just in time to meet Ann and welcome her with more enthusiasm than Madge was ordinarily known to show. She made the third bound kitchenward.

Roy, stamping off the snow on the back porch and boisterously entering, was quite surprised to see members of the family waiting. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Oh, yes; hello Ann. When did you get in?”

“Do you mean to say that you did not see us coming in the sleigh, literally ‘with bells on,’ as Maurice says?”

“I was slidin’ down hill over in the hollow. Never heard a thing. Yes, you can kiss me, if you want to; I don’t usually let ’em any more. I’m getting too big.”

This was a new phase in Roy. “I’ll do it for you, if you like,” offered Maurice with a very sober expression.

“She might not like it,” as soberly replied Roy, offering his cold cheek to Ann, who patted his shoulder as she bestowed her salute. “You are my friend, Roy, aren’t you?” said she.

“I’m your cousin, and so is Maurice,” said Roy.

“Then I have some rights, haven’t I, Roy?” inquired Maurice.

“Better be careful. Girls are funny,” replied Roy.