CHAPTER XXIII

Honouring the Heroine

A FORTNIGHT slipped past, during which Nell’s injuries mended slowly, though her general health was anything but satisfactory; for the shock and strain of her adventure at Camp’s Gulch proved too much for even her intrepid spirit.

Gertrude had been gone a week. Nell had received one brief letter in which Gertrude said she was sending in her resignation, for they could not do without her at home now.

A fresh operator had been installed at Bratley—a girl who gave herself superior airs because of her city up-bringing, and who drove Mrs. Nichols nearly wild with her untidy ways.

Nell was secretly longing to get to work again, and chafing sorely at her enforced idleness. She spent hours every day in the sunshine; reading, walking, making plans for the future, and doing her best to help anyone who stood in need of assistance that she was able to give.

She had spent a long afternoon with Mrs. Jones, at a farm about half a mile from the depot, who had a sick baby and a swarm of toddlers of various ages—six of them altogether, and the eldest not ten years old.

Nell had taken them all, saving the ailing baby, to the field where Mr. Jones was ploughing up potatoes; and the whole tribe had been picking up the potatoes, even small hands accomplishing a fair amount of work when there was some one present who could turn it into play.

But the stooping, and the effort to keep the little ones amused, had brought on the buzzing in Nell’s head in quite an aggravated form, and she was feeling very miserable indeed as she trailed along the dusty road, carrying a heavy basket of late plums in her left hand, which Mrs. Jones had sent as a present to Mrs. Nichols.

It was growing dusk by the time Nell reached Bratley, for which she felt thankful, as her face was drawn into puckers of weariness and discomfort.

Entering by the back door, she put the plums on the kitchen table, meaning to slip off to her own room to get a little rested before any one noticed her entrance; but in this she was disappointed.

“Is that you, Nell dear?” asked Mrs. Nichols from the sitting-room; and there was an indefinable something in her tone which made the listener thrill and quiver with expectation, while half her weariness dropped from her as if by magic.

“Yes; I have come. Do you want me?” she asked, presenting herself at the door of the inner room where Mrs. Nichols sat knitting by a fire of sticks, although the evening was unusually warm for late September.

“There is a letter for you from Camp’s Gulch, sent by special messenger; it came an hour ago. I would have sent for you, only I was expecting you home every minute,” replied Mrs. Nichols.

“As important as that, is it?” said Nell, coming forward into the firelight. “What is it about? A round-robin from the Peters family, asking me to come and take up my abode in the old freight-wagon, I expect. But I’m not going. I mean to send in my resignation to-morrow, for I’ve swarms of bees let loose in my ear again, and it is just horrible.”

“Poor child! But I expect you have done too much to-day, and that is why your head is bad. No, the letter is not from the Peters lot; it is from the Syndicate. There it is on the table. I was told to take care of it, so I’ve just sat and stared at the thing ever since it came.”

“The Syndicate?” echoed Nell, in amazement.

Then she opened the envelope and drew out a short letter, accompanied by a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill.

“Oh, they have sent me some money, but I can’t keep it!” she cried, in profound astonishment mingled with dismay.

“Why not?” demanded Mrs. Nichols, trying not to look as if she knew about the contents of the letter.

“Because—oh, because it is just absurd that I should be paid for doing my duty,” flashed out Nell, with her head in the air.

“What is in the letter?” asked Mrs. Nichols, nodding and smiling as if vastly pleased.

“Read it and see. Oh dear, I don’t like such a fuss being made,” said Nell, ruefully.

“Read it to me; I can’t see by this light, it flickers so much,” replied Mrs. Nichols, and stooping forward to the fire, Nell began to read—

“DEAR MISS HAMBLYN,

“On behalf of the Syndicate, I have the pleasure of asking your acceptance of the enclosed one hundred dollars, as a small acknowledgment of our indebtedness to you in the matter of your action re the attempted burglary at Camp’s Gulch railway depot. We owe you our sincere thanks for catching the man we wanted so badly, and we trust you will soon find yourself recovered from your injuries.

“Written for the Syndicate, by “MARK FLOSSMAN.”

“Well, it is a very nice letter, anyhow; and you would surely never hurt their feelings by sending the money back, especially as they are not rich men,” said Mrs. Nichols.

“I did not think of it hurting their feelings; but it is such a dreadful lot of money to take for just nothing. It isn’t even as if the railway people had given it to me,” Nell replied, with visible relenting in her tone.

“The railway people will do something, I have no doubt, when they know that you are compelled to resign because of what happened to you in your efforts to secure them from loss. But even if they had lost everything the big shed contained, they would not have stood to lose so much as the Syndicate did over that bad deal in copper. I guess they will be more careful how they spend their money next time. No wonder they feel so grateful to you for helping them to get their money back.”

“I am glad they did not hurt the poor man when they had him in their power,” Nell said, feeling that nothing would have induced her to take this money if the Syndicate had wreaked some dreadful vengeance on the prisoner.

“So am I, though I must say he got off more lightly than he deserved to do. But you will keep the money, dear, and it may help you to some of that education you are always longing for; although, to my way of thinking, you are already as learned and as ladylike as any one need wish to be.”

“Oh, how perfectly lovely that would be!” cried Nell, ignoring the compliment and thinking only of the possibilities contained in the gift of the Syndicate.

In the end she decided to take the gift in the spirit in which it was offered, and she wrote a graceful little letter of thanks to Mark Flossman; then, in a spirit of flat contradiction, felt fearfully ill used because she had been the innocent means of bringing Dick Brunsen to justice, even though it was rough justice, which showed plainly enough that she did not entirely accept Mrs. Nichols’s theory about the identity of the man whom she had succoured at the Lone House more than a year ago.

The next day she sent in her resignation, accompanied by a note from Dr. Russell, which stated that, owing to the injury to her ear, it would be a long time before she was a safe operator again.

To her amazement, the officials at headquarters, taking into account the peculiar circumstances of the case, paid her full salary up to the date of her resignation, and sent her a hundred dollars as compensation for injuries received and her consequent loss of work.

“I expect they got shamed into it by what the Syndicate did,” said Mrs. Nichols, which was a little ungracious on her part, as doubtless the officials at headquarters knew nothing whatever of the action of the Syndicate in honouring the heroine.

“I can sit still comfortably now until my arm gets better, and then I will just go to work and fit myself to be something special in the world,” said Nell, gaily. “I should love to go to college and study medicine, only I’m afraid the money wouldn’t be enough to carry me through, or I might not be clever enough to get a degree. Would it not be lovely if I were Dr. Eleanor Hamblyn?”

“I would rather see you happily married to some good man,” grumbled Mrs. Nichols.

“One cannot always have what one wants, so that pretty little dream of yours may never be realized,” laughed Nell. Then she was suddenly overtaken with a sober fit, and went off to her room, where she stayed for quite a long time in a brown study as to ways and means.

When she applied to the doctor for advice about the best way of going to work to secure a thorough education, with a possible college course to complete it, to her surprise he threw cold water on the whole scheme, and advised her either to invest the money with a view to a rainy day, or to use it to start herself in some business.

“But I don’t know any business; and I want to be a cultured woman,” explained Nell.

“There is no reason why you should not be a business woman and cultured too,” he said, smiling at the look of disgust on her face.

“I have not been trained to business,” she objected.

“Nor have you been trained to entering a profession,” he answered quietly. “Except, perhaps, school-teaching, which is fearfully wearing work. There is not a profession that is not over-stocked, while there is always a crying need for bright capable women in what are mistakenly called the humbler walks of life.”

“But you are a professional man,” she said, with a pout.

“To my sorrow, yes. But if I had put half the hard work into learning a business that I put into acquiring my professional knowledge, Sonny and I would not be hanging round at little boarding-houses, scrimping and saving to make one dollar do the work of two,” he said, with a smile which was so wistful that it made Nell want to cry.

“I have always longed to get an education,” she said, with a sigh; “and now at last, when it looks possible, you tell me it is of no use to try for it.”

“Pardon me, I said nothing of the sort,” he replied, with a smile. “I only warned you against trying to enter a profession. Education is a word capable of many renderings, and anyone can get education of a sort if they only keep their eyes open wide enough.”

“Oh dear, how bewildering it is!” she exclaimed, with dismay in her tone. “When I had no money at all, I used to think that everything would be perfectly easy if only I had a little pile of dollars to call my own; but now that I have the dollars, it is harder than ever, because I don’t know what to do with them.”

“After this you will better understand and sympathize with the sorrows of millionaires,” said the doctor, laughing at her dismayed looks. Then he added, in a graver tone, “I should not advise you to do any hard study for the next year or two. If you take life fairly easy, with no undue mental or nervous strain, your ear-trouble will right itself, and you will have no further fuss with it. If, however, you think of fighting your way through exams., and that sort of thing, I warn you that you will have to suffer for it.”

Tears of disappointment welled up in Nell’s dark eyes, for the candid opinion and friendly advice of the doctor came as a great blow to her, shattering many a magnificent castle in the air. No one but herself knew how ardently she had longed to rise above the drudgery of ordinary life, and to make for herself a name and a place among the extremely cultured of the world.

But she made no great outcry about it, and was careful not to let anyone guess how hardly the statements of the doctor had hit her. She had sufficient common sense to know how truly he had spoken. It was out of the question for her to be a school teacher, even if she had cared for the life. If she trained for a clerkship she would be only one of scores all trying for the same post, and she might very easily be among the unsuccessful ones.

“I am too young to be a nurse, I am afraid,” she told herself, as she sat on a sunny hillock not far from the depot watching a train of cars steaming up the Roseneath valley. She was quite alone, for school had begun again, and the swarms of children who usually attached themselves to her as a sort of guard of honour were this morning otherwise engaged.

On the whole she was rather glad to be left solitary to thresh the matter out. It was three days since she had had her talk with Dr. Russell—three days of gloomy meditation, in which many a fine castle in the air had come down, and many a bright illusion had been dispelled in the strong light of common sense.

“I will wait one more week, and then I must decide,” she said to herself, with a sigh, as she rose from her sunny hillock and prepared to take her way back into Bratley village again.

Then she remembered her father’s words about seeking Heavenly guidance in the grave decisions of life. Truly Parson Hamblyn had not lived or preached in vain; his teaching remained alive and vigorous long after he himself was dead.

“Seek prayerfully to be led aright, dear little Nell; and when the guidance comes, don’t kick against it,” he used to say. The tears of tender, loving regret arose in her eyes as she recalled the wasted form and pale face of her father as she used to see him in those sad far-off days just before he died.

Then a smile twitched at her lips, for she reflected how very much she had been kicking during these last three days against her own disappointment about the higher education.

“It is the laziness of these days that is upsetting me, I believe. I will go up to Camp’s Gulch and see Mrs. Peters to-morrow. If I go by the early cars, I can walk over to the Settlement and have a look at poor old Mrs. Trip and Joey,” she said to herself, thinking how strange it seemed to have time and ability to go about here and there as fancy might dictate.

Mrs. Nichols highly applauded the idea of a visit to Camp’s Gulch. The difficulty had been to induce Nell to go anywhere, and it was plainly not good for her to sit about brooding on the problem of what she could or could not do.

It was considerable promotion for Sam Peters, baggage-clerk and pointsman of Bratley, to be station-master at Camp’s Gulch, and there might have been some truth in what Mrs. Nichols said about his having been chosen for the post because of his numerous family. Mrs. Peters was tremendously pleased at the improvement in her husband’s position, and would persist in declaring that they owed it all to dear Miss Hamblyn, which was, of course, rather embarrassing to Nell.

She travelled up by the early cars next morning, and received a warm welcome from Sam and his wife. It gave her quite a thrill to see the place again, and to think of all the excitement and strain of the adventurous night which had terminated her residence there and cut short her career as a telegraph operator. But already changes were coming, and two more wooden houses were being erected just beyond the big shed, on the Settlement road.

“Why, it will be quite like a town presently, with gas-lamps and asphalted side-walks,” laughed Nell, when she saw the wooden frames of the new houses. “But who is going to live in them?”

“That is what we want to know,” said Mrs. Peters, as she jogged her baby up and down in her arms to give it a little exercise, while the small child who had been the baby previously clung to her skirts, whimpering to be carried also.

“A person might manage to get a living in summertime by letting lodgings or taking city people in to board, but it would be different in winter,” Nell remarked, noting afresh the exceeding beauty of the wooded heights, and wondering how anyone could endure living in ugly places who had once looked on scenery like this.

“It is the winter that will frighten the people, I expect; but it need not, for there are some new mines to be opened on the other side of the hill, Sam says. They have found copper rich there; that, of course, will bring a lot of men about the place, and anyone who would be willing to cook good plain food, such as pies, cakes, soups, and stews, might make a comfortable living.”

Nell made a grimace. “Oh dear, it just takes away one’s appetite even to think of it!” she exclaimed.

“Do you think so? Cooking never takes away my appetite; but then, I just keep doors and windows open as much as possible when I am boiling and stewing, which makes a great difference. I wish you would take one of those houses when they are finished, and see how well you could make it do,” said Mrs. Peters, wistfully; for, despite her delight in her new dignity, she often felt very lonely at Camp’s Gulch.

Nell burst into a merry laugh. “Fancy me setting up housekeeping at eighteen! And oh, how grand it would sound! Camp’s Gulch Restaurant. Proprietor, Miss Eleanor Hamblyn. Tariff on application. Currant dumpling a speciality. Table d’hôte at noon daily except Sundays.”

“You may laugh as much as you like,” said Mrs. Peters, who had laughed herself until the tears ran down her cheeks. “But mine is a very good idea, after all.”

Later in the day Nell walked over to the Settlement to see poor old Mrs. Trip, who was living in a little one-roomed shack and nursing Joey, who was still very ill.

The old man did not appear to recognize Nell, and she was shocked at the change in him. But Mrs. Trip said he was much better and getting well fast. She seemed to take great pride in her patient, and said it was quite a comfort to have him sick, because now he could not go off leaving her alone for hours at a stretch in the evenings.

Nell found it difficult to keep from laughing outright at this view of the case, and came away thinking that there was a bright side to most troubles if only one knew where to look for it.

She went back to Bratley on the evening cars, and found Mrs. Nichols waiting on the depot to meet her, and the good woman had bad news writ large on her face.

“What is the matter?” asked Nell, faintly.

“I’ve had a letter from Dr. Shaw, of Nine Springs, asking about you. Miss Lorimer’s father is dead; the mother is ill and incapable of anything; and the doctor wants to know if you are well enough to go to them,” Mrs. Nichols replied.