Читать книгу Meg of Mystery Mountain - North Grace May - Страница 2

The girls who had been inseparable friends during the four years at the fashionable Highacres Seminary parted at the Battery to go in as many different directions.

Marion Starr’s home was far up on Riverside Drive, while Barbara Morris’ millionaire father had an extensive estate on Long Island. Esther Ballard, the only daughter of devoted parents, resided in the house of her grandfather, Colonel Ballard, on Washington Square, while Jane Abbott’s family of four lived in the same rambling, picturesque wooden house that Mr. Abbott’s father had built for his bride long before his name had become so well known on Wall Street. Edgemere, a pretty little town among the Jersey hills, Mr. Abbott deemed a good place to bring up his younger girl and boy, and so, although Jane often pleaded that they move to a more fashionable suburb, in Edgemere they had remained. Nor would her father tear down the old home to replace it with one finer, for his beloved wife, who had died at the birth of little Julie, had planned it and had chosen all of the furnishings. “Some day you will have a home of your own, Jane,” he had told his proud older daughter, “and then you may have it as fine as you wish.”

But in all other things, Mr. Abbott humored her, for she was so like her mother in appearance. It was with sorrow that the father had to confess in his heart that there the resemblance ceased, for the mother, who had been equally beautiful, had been neither proud nor selfish. Little Julie, though not so beautiful, was far more like the mother in nature, and so, too, was Daniel, the nineteen-year-old lad upon whom the father placed so much reliance.

Regrettable as it may seem, Jane Abbott, as she stood on the deck of the ferry that was to convey her to the Jersey shore, was actually dreading the two weeks that she would have to spend in her own home. Marion had suggested that they plan going to Newport by the middle of July and it was now the first.

It was late afternoon, and there were many working girls on the huge ferry, who were returning to their Jersey homes after a long hot day in the New York offices. As they crowded against her, Jane drew herself away from them haughtily, thankful, indeed, that her father was so wealthy that she would never have to earn her own way in the world, nor wear such unattractive ready-made dresses. Unconsciously her lips curled scornfully until she chanced to catch a glimpse of her own trim tailored figure in one of the panel mirrors; then she smiled complacently and seated herself somewhat apart from the working girls, who, from time to time, glanced at her, as she supposed, with admiration. But she was disabused of this satisfying thought when one of them spoke loud enough for her to hear. “See that stiff-necked snob! She thinks she’s made of different clay from the rest of us. I wish her pa’d lose his money, so she’d have to scrub for a living.”

This remark merely caused Jane to sneer slightly, but what she heard next filled her heart with terrified foreboding, for another girl had turned to look at her and replied:

“Well, if she’s who I think she is, her father’s already gone bankrupt, and she’s poor enough, all right.”

The working girls then moved to another part of the ferry and Jane was left alone. It was ridiculous, of course. Her father could not lose his vast fortune. Jane determined to think no more about it. The ferry had reached its destination, and the proud girl hurried away. Never before had she so longed to reach her home.

“Of course it is not true,” her panicky thought kept repeating. “But what could it mean? What could it mean?”

* * * * * * * *

Jane vowed to herself that she would not again think of what the spiteful working girl had said, for how could she, a mere nobody, have information concerning the affairs of a man of her father’s standing, which Jane, his own daughter, did not have?

But a disquieting thought reminded her that the working girl’s face had been familiar, and then memory recalled that she had seen her in the very building on Wall Street where Mr. Abbott’s offices were located.

Jane’s troubled reverie was interrupted by a joyous exclamation, and her brother, who was three years her senior and a head taller, leaped from the crowd and held out both hands. His greeting was so enthusiastic, his expression so radiant, that the girl was convinced that all was well with their father, and so she said nothing of what she had heard.

It was not until they were seated on the train and had started for Edgemere that Jane noticed how pale and thin was her brother’s face, and, when his eager flow of conversation was interrupted by a severe coughing spell, the girl exclaimed with real concern, “Why, Brother Dan, what a terrible cold you have! You ought to be in bed.”

The boy’s smile was reassuring. “Don’t worry about that cough, sis,” he said lightly. “Now the grind is over, it will let up, I’m thinking. But it surely has stuck closer than a postage stamp. Caught it weeks ago, but I’ve been so busy, well, doing things, that I haven’t had time to coddle myself.”

Suddenly the lad’s expression became very serious, and turning, he placed a thin hand, that was far too white, lovingly on his sister’s as he said: “Jane, dear, some changes have taken place in our home since you went back to Highacres last Christmas. For Dad’s sake try to bear them bravely.”

Then it was true, true, all that this dreadful working girl had said. For a moment the girl’s whole being surged with self-pity, then she felt cold and hard. What right had their father to lose his fortune and bring disgrace and privation upon his family? In a voice that sounded most unfeeling, she asked, “And just what may those changes be?”

It was hard, so hard for Dan to tell the whole truth to a girl whom he knew, with sorrow, thought only of herself. He had believed that trouble might awaken the true Jane, whom he had always felt must be somewhere deep under all the adamant of selfishness, but as yet there was no evidence of it.

He removed his hand, as from something that hurt him, and folding his arms, he began: “Our father is in great trouble, Jane, and he needs our aid, but at present all we can do is to bear cheerfully the inconveniences that are not nearly as severe as many others have to endure.”

But the girl was impatient. “For goodness sakes, Dan, don’t preach! Now is no time to moralize. If our father has done some idiotic speculating and has lost his money, tell me so squarely.”

A red spot burned in each pale cheek of the lad and a light of momentary indignation flashed in his eyes, but he replied calmly enough: “Remember, Jane, that you are speaking of our father, one of the noblest men who ever trod on this earth. You know as well as I do that Dad never did any wildcat speculating.”

“Well, then, stop beating around the bush and tell me just what has happened.”