CHAPTER ONE
THE CHOSEN LAND
"Ooo-ooh! Oo-ooh! Nita!" called Suzanne Baker, as she skipped across the small square of green grass that individualised the brownstone house where Anita Brampton lived.
No answer came, so Zan – as she was always called for short – impatiently repeated the call, adding after a moment's pause, "Where are you – come on out!"
Still no reply, but the pretty face of Mrs. Brampton appeared at the glass door inside the vestibule. She smiled as she recognised the caller and nodded for her to come in.
Zan ran up the steps and said, "How'd do, Mrs. Brampton – where's Nita?"
"Looking for you, most likely," laughed the lady of the house. Then, as her smile changed to a petulant look with the changing of her thought, she added, "Dear me! Nita is a sore trial. Did you ever know her to accomplish anything without confusion to others?"
Zan knew from experience that that aggrieved tone meant a long harangue on Nita's shortcomings, so she hurriedly changed the subject.
"Well, as long as Nita isn't here I guess I'll run along to Miss Miller's. They'll all be there waiting, I s'pose."
"All right, dearie; I have a little bridge party in the library, or I would give more time to you," replied Mrs. Brampton, daintily patting down a few stray wisps of blonde hair that fluttered in the breeze from the open door.
"Oh, I'm in a great hurry, anyway," returned Zan, starting out of the doorway.
At that moment, a maid summoned Mrs. Brampton to the telephone saying that her daughter wished to speak with her.
"Wait a moment, Zan – Nita's on the 'phone and you can speak to her after I see what she wants," said Mrs. Brampton, turning back.
Zan followed to the small nook where the telephone was kept and stood waiting. Laughter and the sound of coins drew her attention to the bridge players in the large library.
Mrs. Brampton finished speaking with her daughter, saying, "Zan is here – wait a second and I'll put her on the wire."
Turning to hand Zan the receiver, she whispered, "When you are through here run to the dining-room and have a glass of wine and cake – it is all ready for my friends."
"Oh, no, thank you, Mrs. Brampton! You know Daddy doesn't approve of us having wine. We always drink water at home," replied Zan, flushing uncomfortably.
"Dear me, I forgot! The doctor is such a radical on these little things!" laughed the lady merrily, patting the girl consolingly on the shoulder with much-beringed hands.
She hastened back to her guests while Zan called, "Hello, Nita! Where are you, anyway?"
"Ha, ha ha! We're all at Miss Miller's? Why don't you hurry over, too," came a musical voice over the wire.
"Just because you didn't do as I said! I told you distinctly to wait for me at the school-gates. You knew I'd be a few minutes late on account of seeing my Latin teacher after school. I asked Bob if he had seen you – he was waiting for some boys in front of the gate – but he said you had hurried away with the girls. So I stopped in here thinking you may have gone home."
There was a moment's silence, then a petulant voice, so like Mrs. Brampton's that Zan smiled, said, "Dear me! I'm sure it isn't my fault if you didn't meet us! Why all of the girls should bother to hang around waiting for you, is more than I can tell!"
"Well, seeing that the whole plan is mine, and not one of you girls would have been in on it if I hadn't asked you, it seems mighty ungrateful to act so, that's all I have to say!" and Zan jabbed up the receiver on its hook.
She threw a glance of disapproval at the card players who were quarrelling over the stakes, and hurried out, leaving the maid to close the doors.
A few moments later she was on a cross-town car. Thinking of the house she had just left, with its mistress dressed in silks and sparkling with jewels, she murmured to herself, "Huh! I'd a heap rather have our comfy home with all the boys' marks and scratches on the mission wood than all of the gorgeous damask and gilt of Nita's home! We enjoy our life at home, but gracious! at Nita's it's always, 'Don't touch that, dearie!' or 'Be careful, that vase cost a fortune;' a girl can't even skip over the floor without having Mrs. Brampton cry, 'Oh, mercy! That velour carpet will all be worn out!'"
The conductor, in passing down the aisle heard the girl mutter and stopped to ask her if she spoke to him.
Zan laughed amiably as she looked up at him and said, "No, I was just thinking out loud!"
The man smiled too, and returned to his post while Zan looked out of the window to see what street they were near. Finding that the next corner was the one she wished to reach, she signalled to stop the car.
As she stood on the platform waiting for the car to come to a stop, the kind old conductor said, "Not many young folks think at all, but it is best to do your thinking quiet-like so others don't get a chance to hear your plans. S'pose every inventor did his thinking aloud, what chance would he have to get his patent?"
Zan nodded thoughtfully and thanked the wise old man for the advice. He assisted her to jump down and smiled as he watched her hurry down the side street.
