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The Life Of Nancy
by
The long morning stretched before them like a morning in far Cathay, and they stepped off down the street toward the Old South Church, which had been omitted from uncle Ezra’s scheme of entertainment by reason of difficulty in leaving the horse. The discovery that the door would not be open for nearly another hour only involved a longer walk among the city streets, and the asking and answering of many questions about the East Rodney neighbors, and the late autumn hunting and fishing which, with some land interests of his father’s, had first drawn Tom to that part of the country. He had known enough of the rest of the world to appreciate the little community of fishermen-farmers, and while his friend Carew was but a complaining captive with a sprained ankle, Tom Aldis entered into the spirit of rural life with great zest; in fact he now remembered some boyish gallantries with a little uneasiness, and looked to Nancy to befriend him. It was easy for a man of twenty-two to arrive at an almost brotherly affection for such a person as Nancy; she was so discreet and so sincerely affectionate.
Nancy looked up at him once or twice as they walked along, and her face glowed with happy pride. “I’d just like to have Addie Porter see me now!” she exclaimed, and gave Tom a straightforward look to which he promptly responded.
“Why?” he asked.
Nancy drew a long breath of relief, and began to smile.
“Oh, nothing,” she answered; “only she kept telling me that you wouldn’t have much of anything to say to me, if I should happen to meet you anywhere up to Boston. I knew better. I guess you’re all right, aren’t you, about that?” She spoke with sudden impulse, but there was something in her tone that made Tom blush a little.
“Why, yes,” he answered. “What do you mean, Nancy?”
“We won’t talk about it now while we’re full of seeing things, but I’ve got something to say by and by,” said the girl soberly.
“You’re very mysterious,” protested Tom, taking the bundle under his other arm, and piloting her carefully across the street.
Nancy said no more. The town was more interesting now that it seemed to have waked up, and her eyes were too busy. Everything proved delightful that day, from the recognition of business signs familiar to her through newspaper advertisements, to the Great Organ, and the thrill which her patriotic heart experienced in a second visit to Faneuil Hall. They found the weather so mild that they pushed on to Charlestown, and went to the top of the monument, which Tom had not done since he was a very small boy. After this they saw what else they could of historic Boston, on the fleetest and lightest of feet, and talked all the way, until they were suddenly astonished to hear the bells in all the steeples ring at noon.
“Oh dear, my nice mornin’ ‘s all gone,” said Nancy regretfully. “I never had such a beautiful time in all my life!”
She looked quite beautiful herself as she spoke: her eyes shone with lovely light and feeling, and her cheeks were bright with color like a fresh-bloomed rose, but for the first time that day she was wistful and sorry.
“Oh, you needn’t go back yet!” said Tom. “I’ve nothing in the world to do.”
“Uncle Ezra thought I’d better go up to cousin Snow’s in Revere Street. I’m afraid she’ll be all through dinner, but never mind. They thought I’d better go there on mother’s account; it’s her cousin, but I never saw her, at least not since I can remember. They won’t like it if I don’t, you know; it wouldn’t be very polite.”
“All right,” assented Tom with dignity. “I’ll take you there at once: perhaps we can catch a car or something.”
“I’m ashamed to ask for anything more when you’ve been so kind,” said Nancy, after a few moments of anxious silence. “I don’t know that you can think of any good chance, but I’d give a great deal if I could only go somewhere and see some pretty dancing. You know I’m always dreamin’ and dreamin’ about pretty dancing!” and she looked eagerly at Tom to see what he would say. “It must be goin’ on somewhere in Boston,” she went on with pleading eyes. “Could you ask somebody? They said at uncle Ezra’s that if cousin Abby Snow wanted me to remain until to-morrow it might be just as well to stay; she used to be so well acquainted with mother. And so I thought–I might get some nice chance to look on.”