Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer — Part 138

“I should say it was a whim,” broke in the princess, “and it just serves you right, too, for making her do it. Now Miss Page will go away and tell every one what a horrible-looking thing I am, and it will be all your fault because you are so afraid any one will see me, just as if I was a monster of some sort! Oh, Nathalie—can’t I call you Nathalie?—the doctor told me your name, and then you know you are not so much older than I am.”

“I’m sixteen,” answered Nathalie readily, glad to turn the conversation from the blinders, for she saw that Mrs. Van Vorst was greatly perturbed.

“Oh, Nita, don’t talk that way to Mother,” cried Mrs. Van Vorst in a pained voice. “You know, dear, I only did what I thought was right, and it was to save you, people talk so!”

“I don’t care if they do,” broke in Nita angrily. “I have as much right in this world as they have, even if I am ugly-looking with this scar and hump, they needn’t look at me!”

Nathalie started, for as the girl spoke she deliberately threw off a soft white shawl that had been thrown about her shoulders. With a sudden feeling of deep pity Nathalie recognized that the princess was a hump-back!

“Oh, you won’t hate me now, will you?” pleaded Nita suddenly, as she saw Nathalie’s start of surprise, “just because I’m humped like a camel.” She caught the girl’s hand in hers and clung to it with piteous appeal in her blue eyes.

“Oh, no,” returned shocked Nathalie. “Why, I think you are lovely, even if you are—” But the word was left unsaid, as Nathalie, with sudden impulse, stooped forward and kissed the red lips.

Before she could raise herself, frightened at her own boldness, two arms were flung around her neck and Nathalie was squeezed so hard that she thought she would smother. “Oh, I just love you!” said Nita’s stifled voice from her shoulder, “and I’m going to keep you with me all the time. Oh, Mother,” she wailed beseechingly, lifting her head, but still keeping Nathalie a prisoner, “won’t you buy her?”

“Buy her!” repeated her mother, who during this affectionate outburst had stood silently by, a pleased smile struggling with an expression of dismay at the girl’s rudeness. “Why, Nita, she is not a horse to be bought and sold.”