Partners (12 page)

Reuben watched him on the way home, falling asleep and resting his curly head against Reuben's arm. He loved it. He thought how grand it was going to be for this child, as well as for his sister, if the plan could be made to work out. What a wonderful thing for him to have even a week at the seashore, if more could not be managed, to play in the sand and breathe the clean, invigorating salt air. But there were several hindrances to overcome before it could be accomplished. In the first place, there was Aunt Ettie, who was known to have a stubborn will of her own, or rather, a stubborn "won't" of her own. There was no telling whether Aunt Ettie would give in or not, and if she didn't, he would have to think out some other way to work this thing, for he was determined that if it was in his power, that little brave girl should have her chance to live and that dear, little loving boy should have a chance to laugh and eat and sleep and be happy, entirely away from that awful place where his sister had had to leave him.

But then, even if Aunt Ettie should be ready to serve the cause, there was another will that he judged to be fully as "won'tish" as Aunt Ettie's, and that was Gillian's. He had not yet sounded the depths of her stubbornness and pride. There was only one person he could count on to help, and that was the doctor. And perhaps the heads of the firm where he worked, only he had resolved that he would never tell them about this. They were doing enough looking after the doctor and hospitalization. This was his own private venture, and he wasn't going to have anyone else butting in. He just
had
to get Aunt Ettie working for this, or he could never win over Gillian.

So he brooded over the matter, as the train rattled on over sandy scrub-oak ground, back cityward, and the sun went lower and lower, until a ruby glow was almost in the sky when they got back to the city. They had a simple supper served at a counter, in a funny restaurant way down by the ferryboats, where they sat on high stools and ate soup out of little round bowls, and little strawberry pies that Noel could hold in his hand. Then they hurried to the hospital to tell the waiting sister all about the shore.

The doctor came in while Noel was describing how wet sand felt to bare toes when you first stepped on it, and he was greatly intrigued by the account. He watched the child and listened and laughed, flicking away a vagrant tear that came unawares, and finally said: "Well, Noel, you're the best medicine your sister has had all day. I think I shall have to get up a petition to have that rule ordering children not to come to the hospital revoked. If all children were like you, I'm sure the rule would never have been made."

As they went down in the elevator together a few minutes later, he said in a low tone to Reuben, "Come see me around eleven o'clock tomorrow. I'd like to know how you make out."

They went straight to their hotel room, and Noel lost no time in getting ready for bed, but when he was attired in his nightclothes, he knelt down bravely as usual and prayed characteristically: "Dear heavenly Father, I'm very sleepy, and I can't remember all the things to thank You for tonight, but in the morning I'll tell You all about it. And I thank You for letting me have such a nice time. Please get something nice for dear Gillian, too, and make me a good boy. Please bless Reuben and the doctor, and make my sister well, for Jesus' sake, amen."

And Reuben, on his knees beside the child, pressed the little hand and echoed the prayer in his own words.

Noel was asleep in five minutes, and then Reuben went to the telephone.

Aunt Ettie came first.

"Hello, Aunt Ettie. Is that you? How is crops?" It was an old childhood's greeting, and he knew she would respond to that if to anything. And she did.

"Fine and dandy, Reubie! But you've kept me in hot water all day not knowing whether you really meant this crazy scheme or not. When you didn't call when you said you would, I thought you were just kidding, and here I had all but hired a truck to take a vanload of things down for me and didn't know how to plan when to start. I've rented me house for the summer, with the right to buy if I sell to anybody, just as you said, and I've begun to get me things out to pack. And now if you really didn't mean it, I'll have all that work to undo, now, when I've really got me mind made up to smell the salt air once more before I go hence."

Reuben smiled. Aunt Ettie was true to form. He had judged her rightly. He needn't have worried.

"Well, that's great, Aunt Ettie! So you're really accepting my proposition, girl and all, are you?"

"Yes," said Aunt Ettie a trifle grimly. "If you insist on the girl, of course I'll have to do it."

"Okay, then. Now I've got the pick of several houses. They're all cute as the dickens. Do you want it to be furnished or unfurnished? Did I understand you to say you were going to get a van to take your things down? You planning to take furniture?"

"Sure," said Aunt Ettie firmly. "I don't wantta sleep on other folkses' old musty beds that have had just anybody on 'em. I want me own sweet-smelling mattresses. And anyway, a lot of the stuff I'm sending down is what the new tenant doesn't want, and I wouldn't know what to do with it if I left it behind. I'd have to store it in the old barn, and it might get stole on me if I did, and besides, if I liked it down there, I might wantta stay, and I'd like me own things with me. I'd feel less homesick. An' ef I was to come back here, in case I didn't like it there, I cud likely sell the things down there as easy as I cud up here."

"Yes, I suppose you could," said Reuben. "You've got it all thought out, haven't you, just as you always used to do with everything. Well, Aunt Ettie, if that's the case, I've got a little gem of a house for you, unfurnished. It was the one I liked best, only I didn't see how you could bother getting furniture. But I'm sure you'll like it. It's perfectly new, right in a little grove of trees so you'll feel at home, and it's not far from the ocean. You can see it from the porch and the windows. There's a nice fireplace in the living room. But there isn't any dining room. How will you like that? There's an alcove in the kitchen, or you can have a big table in one end of the living room, whichever you like."

"That's okay with me," responded Aunt Ettie glibly. "How many bedrooms?"

"Three, and one bathroom. There's a porch could be used for sleeping, too, in case you had a lot of company."

"
Company!
" sniffed Aunt Ettie contemptuously. "Besides, if I did, there's that big folding couch for the living room. That's as good a bed as anyone needs. We'll make out, don't you be afraid. When shall I tell Mr. Ames to arrange to come down? He said any day would do after the first of the week."

"All right, Aunt Ettie," said Reuben in a relieved voice. "You arrange the day that is best for you. If I can fix things to go down and meet you that day, I will, but in case I can't get there till later, I'd better give you the agent's name and address. You go straight to him and he'll take you to the house. It's number seven Grove Avenue, Sandy Haven. I'll phone him tonight that we're taking the unfurnished cottage and you are bringing furniture down early next week. Is there anything else you want?"

"No," said the old lady briskly. "You've spent enough money already. I'll send a telegram to your boardinghouse when I start, and you better send me a letter with that address again so I don't make any mistakes. Gub-bye! I'll be seein' ya next week!"

Reuben turned away from the telephone laughing.

"Well, that's that!" he said. Then he called the real estate agent as agreed upon and took the unfurnished house, arranging that it should be ready for occupancy when the tenant arrived early the next week.

It was late when he succeeded in tracing his New York detective friend on a person-to-person call and got an answer.

"Yes, Remington, I've got a line on your case, and I've put a good man to work on it. We hope to have definite information for you in a couple of days, perhaps sooner. Shall I write to the office when I get it, or where can I contact you at different hours of the day?"

When the matter was arranged, Reuben went to bed, feeling that he had earned a good night's rest.

 

 

 

A telephone call to Reuben's boardinghouse early the next morning revealed the fact that there was quite a good deal of mail awaiting him there, and among the collection were two telegrams.

Reuben told them he would send a messenger boy for his mail as he might not be able to get there that day. The mail arrived by messenger just as he and Noel had finished breakfast.

The first telegram he opened was from his two college friends saying they would gladly stay over a few days at the Grand Canyon if he felt he could arrange to join them early next week. He scribbled a regretful message to be wired to them, saying it was impossible at present and they must go on as they had planned, letting him know from time to time where they were. If it turned out to be at all possible, he might join them somewhere later.

The other telegram was from Ted the detective:
Got a line on your man. Call me up about two o'clock. Must ask a few questions.

That meant he would have to talk to Gillian that morning and get a little more information.

There were a couple of envelopes among the mail that looked like wedding invitations, and one of them had a faint violet perfume. He almost stuffed those in his pocket without opening them and then thought better of it and tore them open impatiently. He had a great deal to do that morning.

The perfumed one was from Anise Glinden. An invitation, yes, to the first showing of
that play!
She had recovered from her animosity enough to want to have him see the play now that it was too late for him to be in it. Well, if things cleared up and he wasn't in the far West by that time, he might run up for the evening just to be a little courteous after all her invitations. He didn't want to continue to keep up the battle between them, and of course since she was the daughter of his employer, it was right that he should show her some consideration. Since she was ready to ignore hostilities, surely he could afford to do as much.

He turned to the other thick, square envelope, and that
was
a wedding invitation in truth.

 

Mr. and Mrs. Stanforth Delany request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their daughter Rose Elizabeth to Mr. Franklin Maynard Meredith Jr. on Saturday the fifteenth of July at four o'clock in the afternoon, at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Carrington, Illinois.

 

He stared at the invitation in amazement. Rose Elizabeth was the younger sister of the girl he used to go around with so much, and she was marrying Frank Meredith, the son of the richest man in the town. But what had become of
Agnes
Delany, the girl he used to go with? That was a wedding he felt would be almost obligatory for him to attend. Frank Meredith had been one of his closest friends in high school, and while Rose Elizabeth had been very young then, Agnes had been his girl in those days. It was true he had drifted away from the knowledge of them all, but it was natural for them to send him an invitation. And here were other letters. A brief one from Frank, asking him if he would come and be best man at his wedding. And the last letter bore familiar handwriting. That was from Agnes, begging that he would come to the wedding.

 

It is so long since we have seen you, and Frank is afraid that you won't come because you didn't get word sooner, but, you see, he had a cousin visiting him from England and his mother was determined that Frank should ask him to be best man. Then suddenly the cousin was called home on account of the war, and Frank of course turned back to you at once. He asked me if I wouldn't write and add my plea that you will come, even if you have to put aside something very important to be here. We
all
want to see you--

 

And so, here was another girl, pleading for his presence! A girl he used to think he thought a lot of. Yet she had been practically out of his life and mind for the last seven years. He had supposed that by this time she was either married long ago or had at least forgotten him. Just a high school friendship.

But this was too much. Another complication for his vacation! Odd, wasn't it, all coming at once? And a big duty standing in the way of all of them at present. Well, this wedding didn't come for nearly three weeks yet. The invitation had waited two days already at his boarding place. But there was plenty of time. He could surely manage to get there for the evening of the wedding, and probably the night before for rehearsal, and that would be all that would be required. He could leave on the midnight train after the wedding was over if necessary.

But in the meantime he had to manage the present duties. Of course, by that time Gillian and her alluring young brother would be a story of the past, and he would be free to live his life as he would.

As he gathered up his letters and prepared to go over to the hospital in time for the doctor's visit, he had a passing wonder as to what life had brought to his old friend Agnes. She wasn't married at least, for she still signed her name Agnes Delany.

Then the day came along and gripped him with its duties, and Reuben and the little boy started for the hospital once more.

The doctor was there already, and he opened the patient's door as they came by, and called them in. His face was almost severe, and when they came into the room, it was obvious that Gillian was greatly disturbed. Noel sensed it instantly and went over to stand beside the bed and take his sister's hand protectingly in his own, looking up at the doctor with defiant eyes.

"I've just been telling this little girl that she positively
cannot
get up today and go to work," said the doctor, looking at Reuben as if it were somehow his fault.

Reuben looked at the doctor and then looked at Gillian.

"Oh, you weren't thinking of doing that, were you, Miss Guthrie? I thought I made you understand that Mr. Glinden and Mr. Rand both want you to have all the rest possible and get your strength entirely up to normal before you go back."