Chapter 29

BARRY

Nancy presented such a picture of bewilderment and unbelief that the others all laughed--except Peter; his face was very grave.

"You see I thought the only way I could get you--to forgive me--was by bringing them all back with me."

But Nancy had no intention of forgiving--at least, at once--the trick that had been played upon her. She lifted her chin with meaning disdain and turned to the others.

"Let's go up to the house. My aunts will be so glad to see you all," and slipping one hand through her father's arm and another into Anne's she turned up the path, leaving Claire and her brother to follow.

Miss Sabrina had seen the car stop at the gate and had come to the door. She knew at once that this was Nancy's father. A color swept her cheeks and faded. She tried to say some word of welcome but her trembling lips could not frame a single syllable. But almost instantly her fears were set at rest, for Eugene Leavitt took her two hands in his clasp and lightly kissed her cheek in a cheery way that put aside forever the trouble that had separated them.

In the hub-bub and chatter that followed, Nancy did not realize that Peter Hyde had slipped away; not until Aunt Sabrina had carried her father off to Aunt Milly's room and B'lindy, radiant, had gone back to the kitchen to prepare a supper "fit for folks," leaving the three chums together. Claire gave her friend an affectionate shake.

"Now, Nancy Leavitt, don't be silly and stay cross at Barry. It's my fault. I knew he was here and that you were here, and that he knew you and you knew him, and neither of you----"

"Please, please Claire," begged Nancy, trying to stop her friend. Her face turned scarlet. Of course she could not be offended at his deception, had she not, herself, been masquerading? But burning in her mind was the recollection of that afternoon when she had opened her heart to Peter and had told him how she despised Barry Wallace and his kind. And he had let her talk--she could not forgive that, ever.

"After you'd been here a few weeks," Claire went on, "Barry wrote to me. I suppose he'd gotten to the point where he simply had to confide in someone. You can imagine, I nearly dropped when I saw the postmark and knew what he was doing, but picture how I felt when he wrote that he'd met the 'best girl ever--no frills and fropperies like mother's crowd, but a regular girl.' Of course I knew he meant you. I let him write a few more letters--I don't think Barry ever wrote so often to me before--and then, I told him everything."

"You did?" exclaimed Nancy. "Then----" she stopped short. Now she understood why he had refused to accept her answer as final--that last evening they had been together.

"And I made him promise on his honor not to tell you that I had told. So don't be cross at him," Claire pleaded, a little worried at Nancy's expression. "He has gone back to Judson's and he said--he asked me to ask you if you would go out to Bird's-Nest--after supper--and----"

Claire, failing in words, threw her arms around Nancy's neck and kissed her. Anne, who had been impatiently waiting for an opportunity, took up her part of the story.

"Goodness, Nancy, you can be thankful you've been up here and not at the apartment--it's unbearably stuffy and hot. Although it ought to have seemed like paradise after my quarters in London," snapping her lips together. Poor Anne, her dream of service was now only a bitter recollection. "I was sitting there as forlorn as could be when in blew--no other word could describe it--Claire's brother. You wouldn't have dreamed from the way he acted that he'd never laid eyes on me before. He told me about the confession you'd written him and he said he knew you were unhappy up here because of your false position and that I ought to come back up here with him and get you out of it. He didn't want me to lose a moment. Then, while we were talking, your letter came with its astonishing news. Isn't it all like some nightmare--all the aunts and things mixed up the way they were? We had to read your letter over and over to understand it. Then when we finally got it through our heads, we decided we'd get Claire and start the next day for North Hero."

"But Dad?" asked Nancy.

"We were all ready to go when a taxi drove up to the door and out jumped your father. Of course he had to hear the whole story way back to the letter Noah brought to our room. Barry didn't give him a chance to even wash his face, he bundled him straight into the automobile as though it were a matter of life and death. And here we are. And this place looks like Heaven," Anne finished.

It was a merry party that gathered around Miss Sabrina's table. B'lindy wanting to express all that was in her heart, had spread a supper fit for the gods. Nancy's father had carried Miss Milly downstairs and sat between her and Nancy. Every now and then Nancy slipped her hand into his, under the tablecloth. Miss Sabrina, at the head of the table, beamed down upon them all in a pathetic ecstasy of happiness. From the kitchen came the insistent "goo's" of the smallest Hopworth, to the accompaniment of a silver spoon beating against a silver mug.

Through all the light chatter in the room there was an undertone of deep happiness and contentment. Only occasionally Claire's eyes flashed a worried, pleading message to Nancy that Nancy wilfully ignored. But when, after supper, the others all went to the Hollyhock porch and Nancy slipped away, the watchful Claire drew a sigh of relief and proceeded to feel riotously happy.

As Nancy walked slowly down the path to the orchard she felt her heart grow inexplainably, foolishly light. She was so glad that Peter Hyde had come back.

The gladness shone in her eyes as she let him clasp her two hands. He did not even ask her if she would forgive him; they both laughed joyously, like two children.

"Wasn't it funny? Both of us up here pretending to be someone else."

"But it wasn't fair. You knew--and I didn't."

Peter hastened to defend himself. "I didn't--at first. And then Claire made me promise not to let on that I knew. Anyway, I'd grown so downright sick of that Barry Wallace that I wanted to just see if I could make someone like plain Peter Hyde. Did I?" he asked.

Nancy ignored the direct question and avoided the pleading in Peter's eyes.

"Why did you come here, Pet--Barry?"

"I wonder if you will understand, Nancy?" Peter's voice was serious. "Mother thought I was crazy and Claire would have, too--at the time. But when I heard you tell--that afternoon--what you thought of Claire's brother, I decided I'd done just about the right thing. You see, when I came back from the other side, just because father and mother are quite prominent, I found that a lot of stuff had been printed about all the things I'd done----"

"But you did do them," cried Nancy, warmly.

"Oh, yes, I did them, and I have got three or four medals--but then so were a lot of other fellows doing the same things and a lot of 'em were killed, doing them. You see, I just looked at it that everyone of us went over to do our duty and most all of us did--and that's all there was to it. So when I came back it was a sort of a shock to fall into the mess I found waiting for me. I couldn't turn around that I wasn't asked to appear at a tea or a reception or a banquet or a church circle or something or other to speak. Every other minute I was dodging a photographer. And you see the worst of it all was that they were all my mother's friends, and my mother was always around looking as though she was at last reaping the reward for her sacrifice. I suppose any mother would have been the same. But you can see the hole it put me in. I hated it, but I couldn't bear to offend her. I wanted to go to work at something; I tried a week in my father's office, but I couldn't stand the confinement indoors. So I ran away--it was my only escape. I headed for the mountains--somewhere where no one would know me. At Burlington I saw Judson's ad. and this idea came to me. I'd hire out to him for awhile and get a chance to work out some theories that were pets of mine--before the war. I shipped my car back to Merrycliffe and wrote to mother of my plan, begging her to tell no one. I picked the name Peter Hyde at random--out of the hotel telephone book."

"I shall never, never think of you as anything but Peter Hyde," broke in Nancy.

"I don't ever want you to," assured Barry.

Nancy's eyes rested for a moment on the outline of the Judson barns. "Are you going to help Judson with his harvesting?" she asked, suddenly.

"Sure thing I am--I wouldn't think of leaving him, just now. Nancy, will you listen to a plan I've been making? I've got some money--it was my grandmother's--and I want to buy up some farms in different parts of the state, the kind of farms that are sort of run down at the heels, and experiment with them and see what can be done with them, as a sort of outright demonstration for other farmers. Do you think that worth while?" he asked so anxiously and with such humility that Nancy colored.

"Oh, Peter--why ask me? It sounds pleasant and--and like you." She suddenly seemed to see him going on with this new work--without her. The thought brought a wistful look into her face. Barry Wallace read it there.

"Nancy, I'm afraid I sort of made a mess of things--the other night. When you told me you were going away--I lost my head. Tell me--you said you'd always care more for your work than for anything or anyone else--couldn't you share your work? Like I'd like to share mine?"

Nancy lifted a protesting hand that Barry promptly imprisoned in both of his own.

"Oh, Peter, don't repeat all that--silly stuff--I said."

"Didn't you mean it, Nancy?" Barry cried.

"I meant it--then. But that was--young." Barry could not know that she was using the master's words. "I know--I think--that--that----"

"What, Nancy?"

Nancy looked wildly around. She wanted to run away, but Barry Wallace was holding her hand very tight.

"That--I'll work better if--that--oh, I'm just glad you came back," and Nancy could not have said anything more, for her face was smothered against Barry's shoulder.

After a little, Barry had to hear all about the rejected manuscript, the master's letter and the redemption of the Hopworth's. There in the sun-lit orchard a golden world seemed to stretch around them.

"How foolish we used to be," laughed Nancy, with a rapturous sigh. "I never doubted but that my first play was going to make my fortune."

"And I, after facing death in every one of its worst forms, ran away from a pack of fussy women," added Barry.

"Never mind, let's bury those two children out here under the apple trees and begin real work----"

"Together."

"Finding the little things to do in our very own corner," added Nancy, dreamily.

Across the twilight stillness came the familiar whistle that had been the special signal among the three chums at college.

"It's the girls," cried Nancy. "Let's go back. I can't bear to have them come here--just now. It's--it's----" she blushed, but met his eyes squarely. "I want this to be--just ours--for awhile."

As they walked slowly back to the house, Nancy stopped suddenly in the path.

"Doesn't Happy House look beautiful?" she whispered. And in fact the fading glow of the sun was touching the old walls with a shadowy beauty.

"It seems to speak to one," added Nancy. She was thinking of that other Anne Leavitt who had come there bravely intent upon building a happy home in the heart of the wilderness. Though she said not a word, in her heart she was making a solemn pledge--that she and Barry, would add, through useful lives, their bit to the traditions of Happy House and the little Island, traditions rich with bravery, sacrifice and loyalty.

Again came the girls' whistle--insistent. Nancy slipped her hand into Barry's.

"Let's hurry."

Hand in hand they went along the path to the house--and to their future together. As they reached, the edge of Jonathan's raspberry patch Nancy turned with shining eyes and whispered: "Pals."

And Barry, teasingly recalling Nonie's pet plan, answered tenderly: "Dearest."

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