Partners (14 page)

"Okay!" said the child emphatically.

So they ate a nice lunch of sea trout and bread and butter, with ripe tomatoes for a relish, finishing off with orange gelatin and cream. Noel was much intrigued that the fish had come from the sea, and ate with gusto.

"Nice little fish!" he remarked as he finished the last bite. "Nice little fish, swimming along in the big, big ocean and tasting so good in a nice lunch for Reuben and Noel!" It was almost like listening to a song to hear him talk away about everything. It was evident he was very happy.

They went up to their room, and Noel took off his shoes, and his scrap of a linen coat, and hung it neatly over the back of a chair the way he saw Reuben do, and then he climbed onto his bed, gave a smile at Reuben, and settled down for his nap, talking softly to himself, with his back to the window and his eyes softly closed.

Reuben sat down at the desk and wrote his letters; telling Anise Glinden he thanked her for the invitation and would do his best to attend the play; accepting the invitation to the wedding and telling his old friend he would be delighted to be best man. Then he wrote the dates down in his little notebook and reflected on how his calendar seemed to be shaping up for his vacation in such a different way from what he had planned.

There were two or three business letters that had to be answered, and then it was two o'clock and Reuben called up his detective friend in New York.

Noel was sound asleep by this time, looking like a young seraph, his lips parted, his long lashes lying steadily on his cheeks that were beginning now to take a slight flush of health over their whiteness. Reuben began to feel a thrill of pride in him as he stood watching him to be sure he was asleep, not wishing to wake him by his telephoning. And now as he began to talk, he kept a watch on him to be sure the sound did not disturb him. Also he didn't care to have Noel hear this conversation about the old uncle if he could help it.

So he kept his voice low and steady and monotonous, and Noel slept on serenely while the worldly affairs of his family were being discussed freely over the telephone.

At first there were only monosyllables for Reuben to answer with, yes and no. Then there were dates to be established, places of residence. Reuben answered them all from the notes Gillian had given him in his brief interview with her.

"Now," said Ted, "I've found your man beyond question! He's living in an insignificant little town, a suburb of the city where the Guthries used to live and not over twenty miles from that trust company. I've also established the fact that the trust company still is carrying in trust the estate of the Guthrie family. They
seem
not to be aware that Mrs. Guthrie has died. We have a man who was able to examine the records, and we find that the last dividends were paid to this Mason Albee only two weeks ago and have been delivered to him from time to time when they came due, since ever he got the first installment, allegedly for his sister. They claim that he brings a note from her every time he comes, and that he says his sister is a hopeless invalid, unable to move from her bed. Can you give me the exact dates when the mother authorized him to withdraw her money for her, and when she died, where buried, et cetera? Do you wish us to go at this matter in a legal manner with a lawyer for the family? We can use a lawyer from the vicinity of the trust company if you wish, to prevent the man finding out where the young daughter is. But to answer your question concerning the money, it is still in care of the trust company, and we are sure from what we have found out so far that it has
not
depreciated, either recently or at any time since the death of Mr. Guthrie."

It was quite a long conversation, and sometimes there were questions that Reuben could not answer and had to jot down in shorthand to refer to Gillian, but when it was over and a suitable arrangement made for further contacts, Reuben turned away from the telephone and felt that good progress had been made in this the most difficult task of all that he had to perform for his wards.

Reuben looked at his watch and then at the child. He was still asleep! But it was getting late, and if he were to keep his promise about that game and then get to the hospital afterward in time for the doctor and Gillian, Noel ought to wake up. So he got up and began to walk around the room, making no effort to be quiet, and then he began to talk in an even tone that would not startle the sleeper.

"I wonder where that boy is that was going to play a game with me?" he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I wonder, wonder,
wonder
whether that boy is still asleep, talking to those waves and birds and ships? Noel! N-O-el!
Hi
, Noel! Ready for a game?"

Noel began to stir, and then his eyes came open dazedly and at last briskly, wide awake.

"I did have a nice nap!" he said in a pleased, sleepy tone.

Suddenly he saw Reuben getting out the game, a board with colored corners in the shape of a star and little stopping places for the marbles, red and green and blue and yellow. Noel came up like a jack-in-the-box and was out on the floor, padding over to the second chair, which Reuben had placed for him on the opposite side of the small table he had drawn out, and soon Noel was deep in the mysteries of Chinese checkers, a highly deluxe edition of the game, and proved himself an apt pupil playing with small accurate precision and fingers that handled the marbles delicately.

"Oh, but this is
fun
!" said the child. "Sometime I'll teach my Gillian to play this! I could draw a board like this on paper with my crayons, and I could use little pebbles from the sand pile on the vacant lot at our corner, couldn't I?"

"Why, now, that's an idea! That's quite original! But, you see, you won't have to do that this time because this is
your
game. I bought it as a present for you, if you like it."

Noel looked at him in astonishment, growing slowly into delight.

"I do! Oh, I
do
!" he cried eagerly. Then suddenly he got down from his chair and came around to Reuben, looking up into his face with a lovely look.

"I think I would like to kiss you once, if you don't mind!" he said shyly. And Reuben, with a sudden thrill of wonder, reached out and, putting both arms around the child, drew him close and kissed the sweet face.

It came to the young man as he did it that he could not remember ever having kissed a little child before, and it was a sweet thing.

"I thank you!" said Noel and, climbing up on his lap, put his arms around Reuben's neck and gave him a hard hug.

"And now," said Reuben, when they came up for air, "how would you like to go out and pick a flower or two to take to your sister?"

It was partly to cover the quick embarrassment that had come to the young man that he said this. It seemed to him a new emotion that he had never realized existed, to have these loving little arms around his neck in honest admiration. He held the little boy very close, and their faces were quite near together for the instant as he watched the effect of his words on Noel. The child's eyes got large with wonder, and a smile beamed out that an angel might have worn.

"A
real
flower?" he asked wonderingly. "One of God's dear flowers?" And his face was full of radiant joy.

Reuben suddenly knew that he loved that boy, and with a quick, fierce movement he got the boy close to him and kissed him again and then quickly arose, setting the child down.

"Yes, a real flower!" he said huskily, trying to get rid of the smarting sensation that came where tears start. How could it be that a five-year-old could be so stirred by the thought of a flower? And strangely, the thought of Anise Glinden came, with her gorgeous orchids pinned carelessly to her coat. With her heritage of hothouses and gardens of rare and exotic flowers.

Could that pampered girl ever have looked like this child, even when she was only five, at the mere thought of a real flower? It probably had never occurred to Anise that God had anything to do with flowers. If she had been asked, she might have answered, "Why, no, the gardener raises the flowers!" Strange thought to have come to him!

So they went out to a florist's shop and bought a rose, a single white rose, for that was what the child's heart seemed to think was most fitting. And when they got to the hospital, they made a regular little ceremony of presenting it. Reuben felt as if he were having a part in a play, and he felt sure it was a play much worthier of attention than the one he might have had a chance of viewing a little later at Glindenwold.

The nurse bustled in presently and made another ceremony of finding a fitting vase for the gorgeous rose and exclaimed over it heartily enough to please even Noel.

"And see!" she said, turning to Reuben. "We have another cot now"--and she pointed to the opposite corner of the room--"and permission for this little brother to take a nap on it sometimes when you need to leave him here while you go on some errand where it isn't convenient to take him along."

"Fine!" said Reuben. "And I can testify that when this young man takes a nap, he really takes a nap; I thought he had been having some rather strenuous days lately, so I promised to play a game with him if he would really go to sleep a little while. And he went! He slept so soundly I had to wake him up for the game when I got my letters written."

"Well, isn't that a grand little sleeper!" said the nurse. "All right, we'll try you out tomorrow afternoon and see how well you can do here. And by the way, Noel, there's a dear old lady across the hall who has a broken hip, and she has to lie still in bed for a long time till it gets well. But she heard your voice the other day, and she said she'd so much like to see you. She has a little grandson out in California and she's homesick for him. I asked our doctor if I might take you over to see her a minute. She wants to show you her grandson's picture. Will you come with me now just a few minutes while your sister talks business with Mr. Remington?"

Noel was not a bit interested in old ladies with broken hips, and he would far rather have stayed and heard what Reuben had to tell Gillian. But Gillian gave him the kind of smile that showed she thought it would be polite of him to go, so with a tiny, suppressed sigh and a forced smile, he went with the nurse. He had never enjoyed having old ladies purr over him, but he took up his cross and went, carrying with him the vision of his beloved Gillian with his great white rose beside her on the little bedside stand and a lovely earnestness in her face. It seemed almost as if she was a little bit hopeful about something. Maybe she was going to ask Reuben to let her go back to work Monday. Oh dear! Then all these nice times would likely be over. Maybe he would have to go back to that awful woman at the day nursery again. Of course, Reuben had said that he shouldn't, but Reuben couldn't do anything about it when Gillian got up and went back to work, not if Gillian thought it was the right thing for him to do. And of course, he mustn't worry Gillian. He drew a deep sigh of worry as the door opened into the room where the old lady with the broken hip lay waiting for them to come visit her.

But over in Gillian's room there was a quick conference going on.

"Well, they've traced your uncle. He's still living in the neighborhood of your old home; at least he's only about twenty miles away in quite a secluded place in the country, an old farmhouse, the detective said. Now, don't look worried. He hasn't the slightest idea anybody is looking for him. It has all been done in a most secret and professional way, and so far they have only got surface facts. One thing they want to know is, was he married when he was with your family, and had he any children?"

Gillian puckered her brows thoughtfully.

"Why, I think he had been married, but his wife was either divorced from him or else she was dead. That was it. I think she was dead. Anyway, he had been separated from her for some time before she died. No, there weren't any children. He didn't like children. He called them brats."

"Well, he seems to be married again. At least that was the information that was given to our man. And when I questioned if he was well off, they seemed to think he had enough. Can you tell me if he had private funds of his own?"

"I don't think so," said Gillian. "Mother was greatly distressed because he was always wanting to borrow money from her; and the more she loaned him, the more he asked for. Mother felt he was kind of a parasite and that it wasn't right to lend to him, and yet he would put up a pitiful story, and she was so sick that she was not fit to cope with him. He was dreadfully mean and would call her stingy and selfish and things like that, and say she had no love or loyalty for her own kith and kin. But you know he
wasn't
her own kith and kin really, and he a perfectly well, strong man and quite fit to work for his living. It was a terrible shock for Mother when he told her her dividends were dwindling. That he had been advised at the bank that these were hard times and everybody was suffering. Mother couldn't understand it, because Father had told her that he had fixed things so that couldn't happen. And Mother would have gotten right up out of bed and gone to the trust company to see about it, sick as she was, but when she tried it, she had a bad fall and one side of her was paralyzed for a few days. So she tried to send a letter by Uncle Mason, asking the man from the trust company to come out and talk with her. But Uncle came back and said they said they couldn't be bothered to come see people. They said the man who was her husband's old friend was in the hospital and couldn't do anything about it himself. Perhaps when he got well she could see him. But Mother got rapidly worse after that and never rallied. And it was just the next month after her death that Uncle told me the money was all gone! I always felt that Mother's worry about the money had hastened her death."

Gillian brushed away the tears as she reached under her pillow for the little tin box, which she brought out now.

"I've found some papers in the box that may help," she said eagerly, "although I don't understand them very well. See, one is a letter from my father to my mother, and in it he says that he has arranged things so we shall always have a steady income. That even if things depreciated, there would always be enough to keep us from want. I never saw this letter before, and from what I remember of my father, I feel sure he would not have written a letter like that if he hadn't been quite sure what he said was true. Here is the letter. You read it and see what you think. And here are the papers. I think he calls them securities."