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Updated: May 29, 2025
Gordon had sent the extra money needed without comment or objection. And now Nancy's trunk was packed, and her bag, and with Jennie Bruce she was ready to take the first 'bus that left for the Clintondale station in the morning. How different from her coming to the school in September! She was at the head of her class.
Of course, she had no idea in which direction South Wall Street lay; but she knew a policeman when she saw one, and believed those minions of the law to be fountains of information. She told the officer exactly what she wanted to do to go to the lawyer's office and return to the station in time for the afternoon train to Clintondale.
Yet, once away from the presence of the kind-hearted matron, Nancy found herself no closer to her schoolmates than before. November brought dark nights and black frost. Clintondale was well up toward the Great Lakes and sometimes the winter arrives early in that part of the country. It did so this year the first of Nancy Nelson's sojourn at Pinewood Hall.
Cora's insulting words, and her cruelty, had lashed Nancy's indignation to the boiling point. She could spoil all their fun on this evening. She knew where all the goodies were hidden. Most of them were in her closet, and in Cora's. And her money had paid for every scrap that had been smuggled in from the Clintondale caterer's and from the delicatessen store and grocery.
She could see nothing of Clintondale, except that huge trees lined the streets. The girls were cross, or loud. Not one spoke to her kindly. She was shaken about by the 'bus, and scolded by those whom she was forced to trample upon when she lost her footing. The new girl from Higbee was much depressed. All her pride and satisfaction in being sent to such a popular school as Pinewood had oozed away.
On and on swept the train, and at last the brakeman, as they left one station, announced: "Next stop Clintondale!" Nancy began to gather her things together and put on her coat long before the train slowed down. Then the other girls got ready leisurely, still chatting. The rain beat harder against the window. It was after seven o'clock. They passed a block-tower with its lights and semaphore.
The sun was already below the hills; but the light was lingering long in the sky and on the water. The chums had an objective point in a little cove across the river, where splendid lilies grew. The evening boat from Clintondale down the river came in sight and the girls rested on their oars to let it pass. The little waves the small steamer threw off rocked their skiff gently.
These were practical thoughts for so young a girl; but Nancy Nelson was practical, despite her imagination. She had already looked up Clintondale on the map, and upon the railroad time-table. It was half a day's ride east of Malden, and Cincinnati was one of the points where she changed cars.
So she wrote a reply to his message, saying that she and Jennie, were coming to Cincinnati and were then on the train, and had the brakeman file it for sending at the first station beyond Clintondale at which the train stopped. She addressed it to Scorch O'Brien's home, believing that it might reach him more quickly in that way.
"No, sir. Are they going there, too?" asked Nancy, eagerly. "Yes. I've been carrying a lot of them to Clintondale this week. The Hall opens day after to-morrow. Anybody to meet you, Miss?" "I telegraphed on from Cincinnati," said Nancy. "That's all right, then. One of the 'bus men will be on the lookout for you."
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