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Updated: May 31, 2025
They had taken a slow ship for Momsey's benefit and the expected re-telegraphed cablegram was looked for at the Forks for a week before it possibly could come. It was a gala day marked on Nan's calendar when Uncle Henry, coming home from the railroad station behind the roan ponies, called to her to come out and get the message.
But she received fine reports regarding her mother's health and Papa Sherwood's new automobile business; and little Inez, under Momsey's tuition, was beginning to write brief, scrawly notes to Nan to tell her how happy she was in the little dwelling in amity. Winter could not linger in the lap of spring for ever. The snow under the hedges disappeared almost over night.
Just then Nan had dropped her knife and fork and was staring from Momsey's pitying face to Papa Sherwood's grave one, as she cried, in a whisper: "Not me? Oh, my dears! You're never going without me, all that long journey? What, whatever shall I do without you both?" "Don't, honey! Don't say it that way!" begged Momsey, putting her handkerchief to her eyes.
"You don't really suppose anybody will try to keep Momsey from getting it?" "Exactly that," said her father. "The Blakes are a widely scattered clan. There are probably a number of people as close in blood-tie to the old man who has just died as your mother, my dear. These people may all bob up, one after another, to dispute Momsey's claim." "But, dear me!" gasped Nan.
Sometimes she pulled down the paper shades and opened the clothes closet door, bringing out the long box she had hidden away there on the first day she had come to Pine Camp. In that box, wrapped in soft tissue paper, and dressed in the loveliest gown made by Momsey's own skillful fingers, was the great doll that had been given to Nan on her tenth birthday.
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