Blue Ruin (20 page)

However, his own curiosity got the better of him and he finally opened it, feeling sure that it would contain something to relieve the strain and make it possible for him to go on blaming her a little more comfortably.

Then he unfolded the paper and read the brief message:

I’ve changed my mind and am going to Europe in search of poise. Hope you have a pleasant summer
.

Hastily,
Lynette

He read the words until they danced before his eyes like little insects in the light, until they beat their way into his angry brain and pierced their meaning to his soul. And gradually he sifted them and twisted them until he evolved a theory that satisfied his mood.

Ah! So that was it. Lynn was sore because he had said she lacked poise. It was all a case of pride! That showed how changed she was. In the old days she welcomed criticism and always set herself to make right whatever he suggested. But now she wished to set herself up as perfect. Well, that was the natural tendency in these days for all fanatics to think themselves perfect and everybody else in the wrong. She had got that way in college, of course. Where else!

He sat there a while longer meditating on the letter and evolved further. Lynette had run away down to New York because she was angry. She was not really going to Europe. She would never dare carry it that far. She expected him to come after her and bring her back. That was what he would have done if she got what she used to call “hurt” in the old days. But those days were gone, and he was a grown man with a right to respect and honor. She must learn that they were not children now and she must not run off like a crybaby and expect to be run after and petted. No sir! He would not go after her! She might come back when she liked. He would see whether she would really carry out her threat or not. She never would. He remembered with a satisfied thrill the way she had looked at him yesterday afternoon when she told him she would rather stay at home because he was going to be there, too. Ah! Rubbish! She would never go to Europe. She just said that for effect!

And that dig about having a pleasant summer showed she had another grievance, too. She was jealous of Jessie Belle!

Well, his lesson had worked then. She had seen them drive by in the morning. But no—Lynette had gone on the eight seventeen. She didn’t get the idea of the drive to the Mohawk trail after all. But it was plain to be seen she was jealous of the other girl. Well, that was a good sign. She would come back all right, and probably before night. She might be even now coming in on the five o’clock train. But he, Dana, would not be there to meet her. She was not to have the fatted calf killed for her either when she did return—not by him. She would have to eat humble pie before he would forgive her for this tantrum. How strange that Lynn, his Lynn, should have fallen to such a ruse to bring about her own way. Well, it was all her fault. He had nothing for which to blame himself.

He sat there glooming until the dinner bell rang and he could hear Jessie Belle’s chatter downstairs. Then he got up and swiftly and silently stole down the back stairs, out the back door to the garage, and in a moment more was driving furiously off in the direction of the town. He did not intend to meet that girl again tonight.

And if Lynette came back on the five o’clock train and waited for him to come as he had promised, well—she would wait in vain. He would not be a party to any such childishness. He would let her know that he was a man now, and she had got to be a woman, and that the whole thing was her own fault.

Chapter 14

E
lim arrived home at exactly five minutes to five and was dismayed to find that Mrs. Pettingill had departed.

“How long you bin alone, Gramma?” he asked anxiously.

“Oh, not long,” said the old lady contentedly. She was still seeing the dazed look in Dana Whipple’s eyes when she told him Lynette was going to Europe, and she didn’t know whether she was more glad or more sorry about it. He was a well-favored lad, and perhaps he would grow out of his conceit. Perhaps she was wrong in her feeling that Dana was not good enough for Lynnie. Dear little Lynnie!

“Well that Pettingill girl is a beaut, she is!” declared Elim angrily. “When I trust anything of mine to her again I’ll know it! She said she’d stay till five an’ I got here five minutes ahead. What got her?”

“Oh, her husband came along and she wanted to ride. I told her I was all right.”

“You bet you did, Gramma! You’d lie down an’ let ‘em all walk over yah. Well, all I gotta say is, ef you wantta thing done you gotta do it yerself. Here’s where I stick around not till Muth come home. I’m not letting any more silly old dames take care a you. You’re too precious.”

“That’s all right, Elim. I found the mousetrap. Don’t you want to set it? We might catch that mouse before your mother gets home.”

“Aw shucks! I’ll leave Snipe sleep here tonight. He’ll get him.”

He opened the door and called his dog.

“Here, Snipe! Snipe! Mouse, Snipe, mouse! Catch him, Snipe. Mouse! Mouse! Good old fellow!”

Grandmother Rutherford turned away well satisfied and began to beat up some flannel cakes for Elim’s supper. Elim loved flannel cakes and maple syrup.

“Gee, Gramma, goin’ ta make flannel cakes? Say, that’s the cat’s whiskers! Want me ta put the griddle on ta heat? Goin’ ta make hot syrup? Want me ta shave the maple sugar down?”

Elim went to the dining room closet for the maple sugar, saw the cake plate on the table, saw the empty milk glass standing by it, saw the chair shoved back from the table, sniffed, and looked wise. He went to the window and looked out down the road, stood and thought, and presently saw Dana’s new car shoot out the Whipple driveway and down the road in hot haste. He watched it out of sight and then took the cake of maple sugar with him to the kitchen. He hunted out the kitchen board and the sharp knife and began to shave thin, smooth slices of maple sugar, like wide wafers, curl after curl of them rolling away from the knife. He cut enough sugar to make syrup for a dozen people.

“Say, Gramma, what time did Dana go home?” he asked casually, gathering up his sugar carefully from the board and putting every crumb into the sauce pan ready for melting.

Grandmother Rutherford lifted a quick, keen eye and searched her grandson’s innocent face intent now on measuring the exact amount of water for the sugar, then she dropped her gaze and went back to beating eggs.

“Why, I guess about five minutes before you came in,” she answered innocently. “He hadn’t been home yet.”

“He hadn’t?” said Elim thoughtfully. “H’m!”

“I thought we might put another plate on for him,” said Grandmother Rutherford tentatively. “I didn’t know but he might come back after he read the letter. He might want to ask some more questions about Lynnie’s going.”

“He won’t come back!” said Elim with conviction. “You c’n putta plate on if you wantta, but he won’t come back!”

“What makes you think that?” asked Grandmother with interest, with a motion of her head almost like pricking up her ears.

“’Cause, he’s a mutt! That’s why! The poor fish wouldn’t humble his pride ta come enask about Lynnie ef it was his las’ chance ta ever see her again. He’s too stuck on himself. Aw! He gives me a pain! I’m glad Lynnie’s gone. Gramma, he’s a flat tire, that’s what he is! I told ya before, but now I know, and don’t ya forget what I told ya! Lynnie’ll be glad she got away when she did. See if she isn’t. Gramma, does this have ta boil any longer? It’s gettin’ thick. Gee, doesn’t it smell good! I’m hollow clear down to my toes. Say, Gramma, these fish are burning. Aren’t they done? I’m glad you set the table in the kitchen, then I can help bake cakes. I like ta hear ‘em sizzle! Gee, ain’t it great just us here havin’ a good time?”

The grandmother smiled her rare smile, but she did not ask questions, although she knew that something unusual was disturbing Elim. She was one of those wise ones who had learned to keep her mouth shut on trying occasions. She had her own reservations, and she respected other people’s. That was why Elim trusted her and chummed with her, and why he often told her things he wouldn’t even tell “the fellas.”

But this was one of the occasions when he did not tell Grandmother. What had happened that afternoon would worry Grandmother Rutherford beyond words to describe. Grandmother Rutherford was aristocratic, and Grandmother Rutherford was religious. She would have thought that Dana had lowered himself to companion with that little cheap, painted girl, and she would have thought that he had let down very far in his principles to have done what Elim had seen him do. She would have felt the humiliation intently for the family, too, as well as on her granddaughter’s account, and Elim did not mean she should find it out, at least not while she was under his charge; so he whistled instead of telling her, though he was bursting to explain his particular new grudge against the young man. New York was too near yet, and Lynnie not on board the ship. Who knew but Dana was already on his way to bring Lynnie back? He was perfectly capable of it, and of doing it with a high hand. And Lynnie might be just fool enough to give in and come. Girls were that way. They liked to be ordered around. Caveman stuff!

Well, if his sister did anything like that he would tell her. He would tell her everything!

He wasn’t sure but he ought to tell her anyway!

He contemplated the idea of calling her up on the telephone, now, before Dana could possibly get to New York, and telling her everything. Only there were so many prying females on the line he was positive it would be all over the neighborhood before morning. Perhaps it might be a good thing for Dana if it would get around, but the trouble was, Lynette was so mixed up with Dana that one couldn’t suffer without the other being dragged in. Good night! What was he to do? If only Muth was home. He’d tell her quick enough! Yes, Muth had better know at once.

But Elim, in spite of his worries and responsibilities, managed a good-sized supper of delicate trout and fried potatoes, and many flannel cakes swimming in syrup and washed down by plenty of creamy milk.

After supper he helped wash up the dishes, but he took each dish with him to the dining room china closet as he wiped it and managed to keep a weather eye out toward the Whipple house and a keen ear for the sound of Dana’s car.

They carried out their program as Grandmother Rutherford had announced it. They played checkers until eight o’clock, and then they read aloud. At least Grandmother read aloud, and Elim sat where he could see the Whipple driveway through the window and listened. Listened both to the story that was being read and for the car that did not come.

At nine o’clock they went to bed, Elim on the couch, which he insisted on having so arranged that he could see out the window.

Grandmother went to bed and to sleep.

Elim went to bed and lay with his eyes wide open looking out the window and getting madder and madder.

Snipe went to sleep in the kitchen.

The mouse in the tin closet came out and peaceably nibbled away at the crumbs Snipe had left on his supper plate, without disturbing him, and then he went back to his work of gnawing a hole from the tin closet into the pantry where the bread box was kept, but Elim lay and thought.

The clock struck ten. It struck eleven. It struck twelve. It struck one! Still Dana’s car had not come back. Could it be possible that Elim had missed it? He had been on the alert every minute since he had seen the car go away.

Had the flapper gone away with Dana? Gone to some party or show or something? No, for he had watched the lights in the house go out. Grandmother Whipple’s room on the first floor, Dana’s mother’s room, Justine Whipple, he knew them all, and the very last to go out was the guestroom in the second story front. He could see two figures distinctly moving about for some minutes before they pulled down the shade. No, the flapper had not gone with Dana. Dana must have gone to New York! Dana
must
have driven to New York!

Gee! What should he do?

Gee! He believed he’d slip out into the hall and get the telephone in the closet and call Muth. Gramma was asleep, she wouldn’t hear him. Muth oughtta know what Dana Whipple was. The old cats were all asleep now, nobody would be listening in. He believed he would call Muth.

And then, just as he was raised softly up on one elbow and had begun to move one bare foot out to the carpet, carefully, so the old couch wouldn’t creak, he heard the quick throbbing of an oncoming car, saw a long shaft of light come piercing up the road, and in a moment more, Dana’s car shot into the Whipple drive and up to the garage. He heard the stopping of the engine, saw the lights of the car go out, and in a few minutes more got the twinkle of a light in Dana’s room. Then he crept back under the covers and lay down with a sigh. Dana hadn’t gone to New York after all. But what had Dana done? And what would Dana do next?

What Dana did next was to come downstairs in the morning wearing his pleasantest manner and making himself most agreeable to everybody.

Justine looked at him suspiciously. Was he planning to go off with Lynette again today and desert Jessie Belle? If he did, most likely Jessie Belle would carry out her threat, which Ella Smith had confided to her during the gloomy evening while Dana was off scouring around the country with his ill temper, and leave for New York. Ella Smith was most anxious that Jessie Belle should be appeased. She went around with her eyebrows drawn up in anxiety, so nervous that she jumped if anybody spoke to her, and cast furtive, frightened glances at her offspring. Grandma Whipple told Amelia she reminded her of a wet hen crossing the road in front of an automobile.

Justine also had her own reasons for wishing Jessie Belle to remain. She wanted to take down Lynette and show her that she didn’t own Dana.

But Dana showed no signs of going off with Lynette. He didn’t go out, he didn’t call up, he didn’t even look up the road toward the Brooke house.