Honey-Sweet Part 10

"Then turn them over to the child. You got them from her," said Mr.

Patterson. "I have nothing to do with them. Good-morning."

Awaiting the sailing-date set by Mr. Patterson, Anne lingered some days after the other pupils. One morning Louise came in to pack her trunk and to say that Mademoiselle Duroc wished to see her in the small study.

"I sent for you to bid you farewell and to return to you these jewels,"

Mademoiselle said. "It is grief to me that you have been so secret about the matter and made the distress for your friends."

Anne's eyes filled with tears. It hurt her to remember that she had refused to answer Mrs. Patterson's questions. How pale and troubled the dear face had looked! And now she could never, never explain. Could she ever tell Miss Drayton or Pat? Probably not. What a dreadful thought! "I am so sorry, Mamzelle," she faltered. "Indeed, it is not my fault. I had to promise. I was not to tell any one till we went to Nantes. I kept hoping we would go. Now we never shall. And I do want to tell them."

Here was a clew and Mademoiselle's quick wit followed it. "Is it that you mean, Anne," she asked, "that some one--a person whose wish had the right to be regarded--told you that you might explain the matter to your guardian when you went to Nantes?"

"Yes, Mamzelle, that was it," Anne responded eagerly. "He said I might tell then."

"He," mused Mademoiselle. "Who, Anne?"

Anne did not answer.

"Where were you when he told you this?"

Anne hesitated, debating with herself whether her uncle would wish her to tell. Mademoiselle changed the question.

"When he had you to promise that, were you expecting to go to Nantes?"

"Yes, Mamzelle." Anne was sure she might answer this. "And then seeing Dr. La Farge changed all the plans, you know."

Mademoiselle nodded her head. Yes, she knew. "I begin to understand some of the affair, Anne," she said, thinking intently and putting her thoughts into slow English. "I think you have been making the mistake.

This person he wished you to let a certain time lapse before the telling by you. For some reason. One week or two weeks or three. It was known to him that you expected to go to Nantes? Ah! so he did tell you to promise to await that time? So it was!"

"I haven't told you anything I ought not to, have I, Mamzelle?" inquired Anne, anxiously. "He said if I told--before we reached Nantes, you know--it would bring him dreadful harm."

"Indeed, no," laughed Mademoiselle Duroc. "You have told me nothing but that you are the so faithful, so stupid promise-keeper. Take my word for it, Anne," she continued gravely, "the time has long pa.s.sed to which the 'he' wished to defer the telling about the jewels. It is due your friends and you that you make the matter clear. As soon as possible. I regret that we did not understand. I have much of interest for the secret. But I see that it is not for me."

Louise tapped at the door and said that Miss Anne's trunk was ready and the cab was waiting.

Mademoiselle gave Anne a stately salute and put the little package in her hand. "Ask Mr. Patterson to take charge of this packet for you," she said. "Good-by, my child. _Bon voyage!_"

Anne followed Louise who straightened her ribbons and tied on her hat.

"Louise," she said, in her halting French, "I've not been very much trouble to you, have I?"

"Not more than the usual. Young ladies are born to be the trouble-makers," responded Louise.

"Because I didn't want to. And I should like some one to be sorry I am going," said Anne. "Here is the silver piece Mr. Patterson gave me. You take it, Louise. Would you mind--won't you kiss me good-by, Louise, and can you miss me one little bit?"

"A thousand thanks, little one!" exclaimed Louise. "How droll you are!

I will give you many kisses with all the good will. Yes, and I do grieve to see you go, you alone little one!"

The return voyage was rough and stormy. Mr. Patterson was half-sick and wholly miserable all the way. He lay pale and silent in his steamer chair, trying to rouse himself now and then to talk with Pat about subjects of schoolboy interest. But it was an effort and Pat felt it so; after a few restless minutes, he was apt to say:--

"Excuse me, father, I've thought of something I want to tell Anne."

"Please tell me when it's ten o'clock, father; Anne and I are to play ring-toss."

"Anne has been telling a ripping story. I'll go and hear some more of it, if you don't mind."

Mr. Patterson did mind. He was, though he did not confess it to himself, jealous of Anne for whom his son was always so ready and eager to leave him. He justified to himself his dislike of the child by recalling the jewel episode.

Anne had not given him even the half-way explanation that Mademoiselle Duroc had obtained. She was going to tell Miss Drayton--how she longed to see that good friend and pour forth the story! But Mr. Patterson asked no questions and it never occurred to her to offer him any information. She had given him her precious packet and asked him to take charge of it, according to Mademoiselle's suggestion. He had accepted the charge reluctantly, as a matter of necessity. As soon as they pa.s.sed the custom-house in New York, he sealed the articles in an envelope which he handed to Anne, saying curtly: "You had these before; take them again."

Mr. Patterson, Pat, and Anne took the first south-bound train, and a few hours later found them in Was.h.i.+ngton. Pa.s.sing from the n.o.ble Union Station, they took an Avenue car and whirled past Peace Monument, between the shabby buildings on the right and the Botanical Gardens on the left. Mr. Patterson sat in frowning silence. A sorry home-coming this. How eager he had been in former days to reach the old home in Georgetown, which now was closed and silent. Ah! he must try not to think about that. He pulled himself together and rang the bell.

"We are going to stop at the Raleigh," he said, in answer to Pat's surprised look. "Our house is shut up, you know. I'll have you children sent to your rooms. I must get off some telegrams and attend to some business. We'll get out of this hot hole to-morrow."

Pat pleaded and was allowed to take Anne for a sight-seeing ride. What a gay time they had! Everything delighted Anne--the stately Capitol, the gold-domed Library of Congress, the n.o.ble-columned Treasury Building, the sky-pointing Was.h.i.+ngton Monument, the broad streets over-arched with stately trees, the gra.s.sy squares and flower-bordered circles dotted with statues.

"Oh, isn't it beautiful? Isn't it beautiful?" Anne exclaimed over and over. "I told them America was the best. I told them so. I do wish Mademoiselle Duroc could see it and Louise and cook Cochon."

Mr. Patterson was waiting for his son in the hotel lobby. "Here, Pat, come here," he said. "Orton, this is my boy.--Pat, here's a streak of luck for us. I've just run across this friend of mine who's instructor at George Was.h.i.+ngton University. He's taking a party of boys to a camp in the Virginia mountains--fine boating and swimming, all the fun you want. Starting to-night. Says he can manage to take another boy. How would you like to go with him instead of to your Aunt Sarah?"

"Fine!" said Pat, eagerly. "I've always wanted to go camping. Good fis.h.i.+ng, too?"

"Great. You trot along with Mr. Orton, and let him help you get the things you need. He kindly says he will."

"There's Anne, father," said Pat, looking toward the little figure hovering shyly on the outskirts of the group. "Is Anne going, too?"

"This is just a boy's camp, Pat," laughed Mr. Orton. "There isn't any room for girls in our rough-and-tumble gang."

Mr. Patterson summoned a maid to take Anne to her room. "I'm going to take Anne to Richmond to-morrow," he explained curtly. "I'll try to run up and see you, Pat, before I get back to work. Time's getting pretty scarce, though. Run along and get your rig. Draw on me, Orton, for what you need. Fit him out O.K."

CHAPTER XIII

Leaving Anne at a Richmond hotel, Mr. Patterson drove to an orphanage on the outskirts of the city. He had wired the superintendent that he was coming and had brought letters and papers from the Was.h.i.+ngton office of the a.s.sociated Charities. He told Miss Farlow, the superintendent, the story of the child, without mentioning the jewel affair.

"Let them find her out for themselves," he reflected. "I'll not start her off with a handicap."

As he went out of the bare, spotless sitting-room into the bare, spotless hall, the children of the 'Home' filed past, two by two, for their afternoon walk. There were twenty-six sober-faced girls in blue cotton frocks and broad-brimmed straw hats.

"They take exercise regularly, sir," said the superintendent. "We're careful with them in all ways. They're well-fed, kept neat, taught good manners, and have all pains taken with their education and training. We do our best for them and try to get them good homes."

"I am sure of that." Good heavens!--how he would hate his child to be one of the twenty-six! Poor little Anne! Mr. Patterson caught himself up impatiently. He was no more responsible for her than for any, or all, of the others. If his wife had lived--but he--a widower, whose job kept him thousands of miles away from home most of the time,--it was unreasonable to expect him to keep an orphan girl whom his family had picked up. Ugh!

How he'd hate to trot along in that blue-frocked line! "I'm a dawdling idiot," he said irritatedly to himself. "What am I worrying about? I've done the sensible thing, the only possible thing. Her own people deserted her. I've secured her a decent home and honest training. Whew!

It's later than I thought. I'll have to rush to make that four-ten train."

An hour later, having given hurried explanations to Anne and started her off in a cab, he was on a north-bound train.