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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Well," said the boy, "he tries to heave up, and can't, and sings out: "'Why, Jim! "'Hello, Hen, says the man in gray. "I hadn't shut the door quite. Sometimes I don't," admitted the boy, with a wink. "I hears the gray feller say: "'I just got back from Clintondale, Hen. What did you send that girl up there for, I want to know? "'What girl? asks Old Gordon. "'Nancy Nelson, says the gray man
Nor did it trouble the boys from the Academy, either; they were all glad to move up river for their ice sports. Hockey was a favorite game of the boys, and Nancy one afternoon watched a match game between the crack team of the Academy and one made up of lads from Clintondale. Bob Endress captained the school team and, Nancy thought, covered himself with glory.
I'm goin' to watch Gordon. If he's up to something foxy, I'll find it out. Then I'll write to you. Say! where's this jail they're goin' to put you in?" "It's no jail," laughed Nancy, immensely amused, after all, by this romantic and slangy youth. "It's a beautiful school. It's Pinewood Hall. It's at Clintondale, on Clinton River. And it's very select." "It's what?" "Select.
Afterward she realized that that impaling index finger was a gesture of habit it was his way of "spearing" witnesses in court when they were under fire. "No, sir," replied Nancy, with more confidence. "How do you come here, then?" "I am on my way to Clintondale." "Clintondale?" "Pinewood Hall, you know. There there is a four-hour wait here at Cincinnati, you know."
Gordon did not die. He remained an invalid for some time, but slowly recovered. Nancy, by that time, had become such a necessity to him that he went to Clintondale for the weeks of convalescence when the doctors refused to let him get back into legal harness again. He was really a changed man. He could not act as Nancy's guardian; Mr. Bruce, Jennie's father, did that.
But as to the latter, the girl was determined to learn all there was to know about herself before she arrived at Pinewood. In two hours the train would be in Cincinnati. She had but half an hour or less to wait for the train on the other road to Clintondale. But she had studied the time-table and she knew that, by waiting four hours in Cincinnati, she could get another train to her destination.
Above all, she wondered if she should ever see him again. But that was not likely. Miss Prentice came home in a week, and in another week the school would open. Mr. Gordon had sent the ticket for Nancy's fare to Clintondale. Her modest trunk was packed. Miss Prentice bade her a perfunctory good-bye.
Bob was going to Cornell; but that was not too far away, as he often told her, for him to come back to Clintondale to see both the girls and boys there. The only thing that troubled Nancy about this semi-intimacy between herself and the Academy boy was the fact that Grace Montgomery was so angry. She seemed to have an idea that the only person who had any right to speak to her cousin was herself.
"I hope so," observed the principal, grimly, and nodded as though she thought this terminated the interview. "But, Miss Prentice! Is is that all he says?" queried Nancy, anxiously. "That you will remain here if I agree, which I shall; Miss Trigg will look after you until fall, when you will receive your transportation to Clintondale and will go there, prepared to continue your studies."
The door opened and the red-headed boy looked in. "Pay for 'Scorch's' luncheon, too." "Ye-es, sir," said Nancy, faintly. "Scorch!" commanded Mr. Gordon. "Yessir!" snapped the office boy. "It's about your lunch hour?" "Yessir!" "Take take Miss Nancy Nelson to Arrandale's. Afterward take her to the station and put her aboard the right train for Clintondale. Understand?" "Yessir!" Mr.
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