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Molly, I pressed your waist when I had the irons for Marty's neckties, so I treated you as well." "Momsey, you are perfect in your plans. Never use an iron for one without applying it to the other. And I will be joyous in my fresh blouse. Rose, please put a tag on my piece of cake, I'll enjoy that end when I come in.
She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. Home certainly was never like this! She did not see how she was ever going to be able to stand it. "If Momsey or Papa Sherwood knew about this they'd be awfully sorry for me," thought Nan, still sitting on the trunk. "Such a looking place!
There were hours when the girl from Tillbury was very lonely indeed. Writing to Bess and other girl friends in her old home town and penning long letters on thin paper to Momsey and Papa Sherwood in Scotland, did not fill all of these hours when Nan shut herself into that east room.
"No, not yet," he answered, and he made a motion with his head, as if to tell his wife not to speak of a certain matter before the children. "Oh, I saw you wink!" cried Nan, clapping her hands. "What does it mean? Is it a secret, Momsey?" "Well, yes, Nan. You shall be told in plenty of time, if anything comes of it." "Oh, that's two secrets!" cried Nan. "Bert has one and now there's one here."
But when he saw what fun his mother was having tossing stones into the lake and making the water splash up, Trouble did the same, laughing at the fun he was having. "Dis a ocean, Momsey?" he asked as he set a little stick afloat, making believe it was a boat. "Well, we'll call it an ocean," Mrs. Martin answered. "But this water is fresh, and that in the ocean is very salty.
"What is the matter?" cried Nan, startled by the gravity of her father and the exaltation upon her mother's face. "What's happened?" "A very great thing, Nan, honey," said Momsey, drawing her daughter to her side. "Tell her, Papa Sherwood." He sighed deeply and put away the letter they had been reading. "It's from Mr. Blake, of Edinburgh," he said.
Sherwood that morning by post. It seemed the only opening, and it meant that they would have to give up the "dwelling in amity" and go to crowded Chicago to live. For Momsey was determined that Papa Sherwood should not go without her. Nan came back into the hall and began to wield the broom again.
"It's all right, momsey, but we must get dry. Girls, give Will and Percy your orders." "Perhaps we had better telephone," suggested Betty. "Oh, yes!" chorused the others. Soon the desired garments had been specified, and the boys promised to bring them in suitcases as soon as might be.
Momsey would not open the long envelope until he had been called and had come in. Nan still wore the bright colored bandana wound about her head, turban-wise, for a dust cap. Papa Sherwood beat the ashes from his hands as he stood before the glowing kitchen range. "What is it?" he asked calmly. "A notice of a new tax assessment? Or a cure-all advertisement of Somebody's Pills?"
"We will throw a sprat to catch a herring," quoted Momsey cheerfully. "Quite so," repeated Mr. Sherwood. "But, dear, DEAR!" moaned Nan. "Is that all it is going to amount to? Don't you really believe it's all true, Papa Sherwood?" "I can't say that I do, my dear," returned her father gravely. "Such romantic things as this do not often happen outside of story books."
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