She walked down to the village, through the village, past the wharf road, and down the harbour road, a gallant, indomitable little figure. Nan had no idea that she was a heroine. On the contrary she felt very much ashamed of herself because it was so hard to do what was right and fair, so hard to keep from hating Cassie Thomas, so hard to keep from fearing Six-toed Jimmy, so hard to keep from turning round and running back to Ingleside.
It was a lowering evening. Out to sea hung a heavy black cloud, like a great dark bat. Fitful lightning played over the harbour and the wooded hills beyond. The cluster of fishermen's houses at the Harbour Mouth lay flooded in a red light that escaped from under the cloud. Pools of water here and there glowed like great rubies. A ship, silent, white-sailed, was drifting past the dim, misty dunes to the mysterious calling ocean; the gulls were crying strangely.
Nan did not like the smell of the fishing houses or the groups of dirty children who were playing and fighting and yelling on the sands. They looked curiously at Nan when she stopped to ask them which was Six-toed Jimmy's house.
"That one over there," said a boy, pointing. "What's your business with him?”
"Thank you," said Nan, turning away.
"Have ye got no more manners than that?" yelled a girl. "Too stuck-up to answer a civil question!”
The boy got in front of her.
"See that house back of Thomases?" he said. "It's got a sea- serpent in it and I'll lock you up in it if you don't tell me what you want with Six-toed Jimmy.”
"Come now, Miss Proudy," taunted a big girl. "You're from the Glen and the glenners all think they're the cheese. Answer Bill's question!”
"If you don't look out," said another boy, "I'm going to drown some kittens and I'll quite likely pop you in, too.”
"If you've got a dime about you I'll sell you a tooth," said a black-browed girl, grinning. "I had one pulled yesterday.”
"I haven't got a dime and your tooth wouldn't be of any use to me,” said Nan, plucking up a little spirit. "You let me alone.”
"None of your lip!" said the black-browed.
Nan started to run. The sea-serpent boy stuck out a foot and tripped her up. She fell her length on the tide-rippled sand.
The others screamed with laughter.
"You won't hold your head so high now, I reckon," said the black- browed. "Strutting about here with your red scallops!”
Then someone exclaimed, "There's Blue Jack's boat coming in!" and away they all ran. The black cloud had dropped lower and every ruby pool was grey.
Nan picked herself up. Her dress was plastered with sand and her stockings were soiled. But she was free from her tormentors.
Would these be her playmates in the future?
She must not cry ... she must not! She climbed the rickety board steps that led up to Six-toed Jimmy's door. Like all the Harbour Mouth houses Six-toed Jimmy's was raised on blocks of wood to be out of the reach of any unusually high tide, and the space underneath it was filled with a medley of broken dishes, empty cans, old lobster traps, and all kinds of rubbish. The door was open and Nan looked into a kitchen the like of which she had never seen in her life. The bare floor was dirty, the ceiling was stained and smoked, the sink was full of dirty dishes. The remains of a meal were on the rickety old wooden table and horrid big black flies were swarming over it. A woman with an untidy mop of grayish hair was sitting on a rocker nursing a fat lump of a baby ... a baby gray with dirt.
"My sister," thought Nan.
There was no sign of Cassie or Six-toed Jimmy, for which latter fact Nan felt grateful.
"Who are you and what do you want?" said the woman rather ungraciously.
She did not ask Nan in but Nan walked in. It was beginning to rain outside and a peal of thunder made the house shake. Nan knew she must say what she had come to say before her courage failed her, or she would turn and run from that dreadful house and that dreadful baby and those dreadful flies.
"I want to see Cassie, please," she said. "I have SOMETHING IMPORTANT to tell her.”
"Indeed, now!" said the woman. "It must be important, from the size of you. Well, Cass isn't home. Her dad took her to the Upper Glen for a ride and with this storm coming up there's no telling when they'll be back. Sit down.”
Nan sat down on a broken chair. She had known the Harbour Mouth folks were poor but she had not known any of them were like this.
Mrs. Tom Fitch in the Glen was poor but Mrs. Tom Fitch's house was as neat and tidy as Ingleside. Of course, everyone knew that Six- toed Jimmy drank up everything he made. And this was to be her home henceforth!
"Anyhow, I'll try to clean it up," thought Nan forlornly. But her heart was like lead. The flame of high self-sacrifice which had lured her on had gone out.
"What are you wanting to see Cass for?" asked Mrs. Six-toed curiously, as she wiped the baby's dirty face with a still dirtier apron. "If it's about that Sunday School concert she can't go and that's flat. She hasn't a decent rag. How can I get her any? I ask you.”
"No, it's not about the concert," said Nan drearily. She might as well tell Mrs. Thomas the whole story. She would have to know it anyhow. "I came to tell her ... to tell her that ... that she is me and I'm her!”
Perhaps Mrs. Six-toed might be forgiven for not thinking this very lucid.
"You must be cracked," she said. "Whatever on earth do you mean?”
Nan lifted her head. The worst was now over.
"I mean that Cassie and I were born the same night and ... and ... the nurse changed us because she had a spite at Mother, and ... and ... Cassie ought to be living at Ingleside ... and having advantages.”
This last phrase was one she had heard her Sunday School teacher use but Nan thought it made a dignified ending to a very lame speech.
Mrs. Six-toed stared at her.
"Am I crazy or are you? What you've been saying doesn't make any sense. Whoever told you such a rigmarole?”
"Dovie Johnson.”
Mrs. Six-toed threw back her tousled head and laughed. She might be dirty and draggled but she had an attractive laugh. "I might have knowed it. I've been washing for her aunt all summer and that kid is a pill! My, doesn't she think it smart to fool people!
Well, little Miss What's-your-name, you'd better not be believing all Dovie's yarns or she'll lead you a merry dance.”
"Do you mean it isn't true?" gasped Nan.
"Not very likely. Good glory, you must be pretty green to fall for anything like that. Cass must be a good year older than you. Who on earth are you, anyhow?”
"I'm Nan Blythe." Oh, beautiful thought! She WAS Nan Blythe!
"Nan Blythe! One of the Ingleside twins! Why, I remember the night you were born. I happened to call at Ingleside on an errand.
I wasn't married to Six-toed then ... more's the pity I ever was ... and Cass's mother was living and healthy, with Cass beginning to walk. You look like your dad's mother ... she was there that night, too, proud as Punch over her twin granddaughters. And to think you'd no more sense than to believe a crazy yarn like that.”
"I'm in the habit of believing people," said Nan, rising with a slight stateliness of manner, but too deliriously happy to want to snub Mrs. Six-toed very sharply.
"Well, it's a habit you'd better get out of in this kind of a world," said Mrs. Six-toed cynically. "And quit running round with kids who like to fool people. Sit down, child. You can't go home till this shower's over. It's pouring rain and dark as a stack of black cats. Why, she's gone ... the child's gone!”
Nan was already blotted out in the downpour. Nothing but the wild exultation born of Mrs. Six-toed's assurances could have carried her home through that storm. The wind buffeted her, the rain streamed upon her, the appalling thunderclaps made her think the world had burst open. Only the incessant icy-blue glare of the lightning showed her the road. Again and again she slipped and fell. But at last she reeled, dripping, into the hall at Ingleside.