And,
Nan thought, it seemed as though her parents never would even
reach that far distant goal.
They had taken a slow ship for Momsey's benefit and the expected
re-telegraphed cablegram was looked for at the Forks for a week
before it possibly could come.
It was a gala day marked on Nan's calendar when Uncle Henry,
coming home from the railroad station behind the roan ponies,
called to her to come out and get the message. Momsey and Papa
Sherwood had sent it from Glasgow, and were on their way to
Edinburgh before Nan received the word. Momsey had been very ill
a part of the way across the ocean, but went ashore in improved
health.
Nan was indeed happy at this juncture. Her parents were safely
over their voyage on the wintry ocean, so a part of her worry of
mind was lifted.
Meanwhile spring was stealing upon Pine Camp without Nan's being
really aware of the fact. Uncle Henry had said, back in Chicago,
that "the back of winter was broken"; but the extreme cold
weather and the deep snow she had found in the Big Woods made Nan
forget that March was passing and timid April was treading on his
heels.
A rain lasting two days and a night washed the roads of snow and
turned the fast disappearing drifts to a dirty yellow hue.
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