Sisters

  CHAPTER XXVIII. A DIFFICULT PROMISE

  When the boys reached the farm, they saw Jenny dressed in her sunnyyellow with the buttercup wreathed leghorn hat shading her face, and, asshe was walking down the lane carrying a basket, it was quite evidentthat she was going away. Harold felt a distinct sense of disappointment.Lenora was lying in the hammock under two towering eucalyptus trees.Charles went to her at once and sat on the bench near, but Harold,excusing himself, ran toward the barn where he could see that Jenny wasalready in the old buggy backing Dobbin out into the lane.

  Hatless, he arrived just as the girl turned toward the highway. "Whitheraway, fair maid?" the boy sang out.

  "To see my very nice teacher, Miss Dearborn. I had a message from herthis morning. She wishes to see me before three. My heart is rebuking me,for it is over a week since our classes ended and I've been so busy Ihaven't been over to Hillcrest. I'm glad, though, that she has sent forme, and I hope she will scold me well. I deserve it."

  The boy hesitated. "Would I be much in the way if I went with you?" Theneagerly, "I'd love to drive old Dobbin."

  Jenny, of course, could not deprive him of that pleasure, and so, at hersmilingly given assent, the lad went around to the other side, leapedover a wheel and took the seat and reins abandoned by the girl.

  Dobbin, seeming to sense that all was ready, started on a trot toward thegate. Harold turned to wave back to Charles, who returned the salute. Hewas glad to be alone for a time with Lenora. They were planning to writea combination letter to their far-away and, as they well knew, lonelyfather.

  "You care a lot for this Miss Dearborn, Jenny, don't you?" Harold turnedto one side of the highway to give the automobiles the right of way onthe pavement.

  "Indeed I do! I love her and I am always fearful that I may lose herbefore my education is completed."

  "Wouldn't you like to go away to school somewhere? Most girls do, Iunderstand."

  "Oh, no! I couldn't leave Grandma and Grandpa. They are old people andneed me. At any time something might happen that either or both of themwould be unable to work as they do now. I want to be right here, always,to be their staff when they need one."

  The boy, glancing at the girl, could readily tell that what she had saidhad come from her heart. It had been neither for effect nor from a senseof duty.

  The boy changed the subject. "You will miss Lenora when she is gone."

  There was an almost tragic expression in the liquid brown eyes that wereturned toward him. "No one can know _how_ I shall miss her. It has beenwonderful to have someone near one's own age to confide in."

  "Wouldn't I do when Lenora is gone?" Harold ventured. "I'm not such a lotolder than you are."

  "I'm afraid not," Jenny smilingly retorted. "Girl confidences would seemfoolish to you." Then, as they drove between the pepper-tree posts, sheexclaimed, "I surely deserve a scolding for having so long neglected mybeloved teacher."

  Miss Dearborn did not scold Jenny. There was in her face an expressionwhich at once assured the girl that something of an unusual nature hadoccurred. Harold had remained in the wagon and the two, who cared so muchfor each other, were alone in the charming library and living-room ofHill-Crest.

  "Miss Dearborn. Oh, what has happened? I know something has." Then seeinga suitcase standing near, locked and strapped, the girl became more thanever fearful. "You are going away. Oh, Miss Dearborn, are you?" Tearssprang to the eagerly questioning brown eyes.

  "Yes, dear girl, I am going to Carmel. I had told you that Eric Austinand his family are living there. Last night a telegram came, sent by thatdear sister-friend herself. She is ill and wants me to come at once. Ofcourse I am going."

  The telephone called Miss Dearborn to another room. When she returned shesaid, "A taxicab will be here shortly." As she donned her hat, shecontinued talking. "No one knows how sincerely I hope my schoolmate willrecover. She is so happily married, she dearly loves her husband and herchildren. Oh, Jeanette, it is so sad when a mother is taken away. Thereis no one, _just no one_ who can take her place to the little ones."

  The girl asked, "How many children are there, Miss Dearborn? I rememberyou said one girl had been named after you."

  "Yes, then there is a boy, a year or two older, and this baby, the onethat has just come!" She took up the suitcase, but Jenny held out herhand. "Please let me carry it." The teacher did so, as she had to closeand lock the front door. Harold sprang from the wagon. "Miss Dearborn,"the girl said, "you have heard me speak of our neighbors, thePoindexter-Jones. This is my friend Harold." The lad, cap under his arm,took the outstretched hand, acknowledging the introduction, then reachedfor the suitcase.

  Sounds of an automobile laboring up the rough hill-road assured them,before they saw the small closed car, that the taxi was arriving.

  Jenny held her teacher's hand in a close clasp and her eyes were againbrimmed with tears. This time for the mother of the little new baby.

  "Good-bye, dear girl." The woman turned to the boy and said, "Take goodcare of my Jeanette. Even she does not know what a comfort she is to me."

  The boy had replied something, he hardly knew what. Of course he wouldtake care of Jenny. With his life, if need be. When the taxi was gone hetook the girl's arm and led her back to the wagon. He saw that she wasalmost crying and he knew that her dear friend must be starting on somesad mission, but Jenny merely said, when they were driving down thecanyon road, "Miss Dearborn has a college friend living in Carmel and sheis very ill and has sent for her."

  After a time he spoke aloud his own thoughts. "Jeanette, that is whatyour teacher called you. It reminds me of my sister's name somewhat." Hehesitated. He was on dangerous ground. He must be very careful of what hesaid. The girl turned toward him glowingly. "How lucky you are, Harold,to have a real sister. She must be a good pal for you. Is she to be athome soon?"

  "Yes, tomorrow." The boy hesitated, then he said slowly, thinking ahead:"Jenny, Mother and I feel that we haven't brought Gwyn up just right. Wehave helped her to be proud and selfish. I'm going to ask you a favor.Will you try to win her friendship and be patient and not hurt if sheseems to snub you just at first? Will you, Jenny?" The boy was very muchin earnest, and so the girl replied, "Why, Harold, I will try, if youwish, but I know that your sister does not want my friendship, so whyshould she be forced to have it?"

  "Because I wish it," was all the lad would reply. Jenny knew better thanthe boy did how difficult it would be.