The dark fantastic (5 page)

The family was at the breakfast table when Richard returned with the doctor. They were sitting with bowed heads while Miss Ann (in her son's absence) said grace, rather sternly, as though reminding the Lord that she had her hands pretty full and could do with a little assistance. The two men, entering from the side porch, waited respectfully until the petition was concluded, then with a nod to those at the table crossed the room to the hall which led to the downstairs bedroom.

Kate looked at her mother and said, "Do you think one of us should go in there?"

Her brother Will said sharply, "'No. It's Rick's affair. Let him handle it."

Her mother said, "If Richard wants one of us, he'll call us."

Young Will scowled. "It's time Rick understood there's a limit to what the rest of this family can put up with. If she's sick and has to be humored, then for heaven's sake humor her and give the rest of us peace. And if she's not sick, then by George, it's time somebody took strong measures. If she were my wife, you'd see how I'd handle her."

Miss Ann said warningly, "Sssh! The children."

Four pairs of young eyes were fixed with varying degrees of interest and anxiety on Will's face. Kate's oldest boy, Richard's two little sons, and Thornewere listening attentively.

Will rose from the table and called to Jesse Moffat to come out to the barn when he had finished eating. Jesse, who enjoyed his meals and the accompanying family conversation, took another helping of fried apples and lingered, hoping to hear Dr. Caxton's verdict on Abigail.

He was not disappointed. In a short time the doctor re-

turned to the dining room, took a seat at the table, and immediately began upon the hearty breakfast set before him. In reply to inquiries he reported that Abigail was coming out to breakfast. Richard was helping her dress.

"You mean—she's—reasonable?" asked Miss Ann.

"Perfectly reasonable. My advice is for the rest of you to take no notice. As I've told Richard all along, there's not a thing the matter with her that a new baby wouldn't take care of."

The old doctor was speaking to Richard's mother and married sister. But Ann Tomlinson, conscious of the hired man's unabashed interest and the round-eyed curiosity of the children, said, "You young folks are through eating. You can go with Jesse up to the barn."

The children needed no urging. They were mortally afraid of the tall black-browed doctor and the vile-tasting medicine he carried.

There was no one left at the table except Dr. Caxton and the two women when Richard led his wife into the dining room. The invalid's eyes quickly searched the room, and Miss Ann knew that she had done well to send at least one of the children away before Abigail came in.

To the casual stranger Abigail Tomlinson was a pitiable object. But to the people who had to live with her she was a devil—or a cross laid on them by the Lord—according to individual viewpoint. Even in the full bloom of health she had been a difficult person. Now ravished by all the torments which beset neurotic invalidism, she was indeed a trial. She had been pretty at twenty, when Richard married her. But there was little trace of beauty in her now. Thin to the point of emaciation, her features sharpened by the ravages of insomnia, she looked like a woman of forty instead of twenty-seven.

But she was the woman Richard had married, she was the mother of his children, and for their sake and the sake of his

vows he would deal gently and patiently with Abigail as long as the two of them lived.

He drew out a chair for her now and seated himself beside her. Then, as though it were familiar routine, he began feeding her as he would have fed a child.

The others tactfully ignored this procedure. It had happened so often before. Except for its unusual violence Abigail's "spell" was following its ordinary- course. Her attacks always ended with collapse and total dependence upon the ministrations of Richard.

As she sat now, her eyes on his face as he fed her, there was something of triumph in her look. There was also something of pathos. Dr. Caxton, missing no move of his patient, thought, "Damn it! The woman's unhappy. She may be driving everybody crazy, but she's not suffering from hallucination. She's got some real grievance, and damned if I don't believe Richard knows what it is. Wonder what she's saying to him?"

The sick woman's lips were moving, but her words were inaudible except to the one for whom they were intended.

"You won't leave me today, will you, Richard?"

"I won't go far."

"You won't go over to Jane's to fetch that girl home?"

"She can't stay at Jane's all winter."

"Promise you won't bring her back yet."

"Eat your breakfast, Abigail, they're watching us."

"I won't eat another bite till you promise." Clawlike fingers gripped his wrist and stayed the hand that was feeding her.

"Very well. I promise." Beads of perspiration stood on the man's forehead.

The thin tight fingers slackened their hold. The doctor, watching, saw a look of satisfaction steal over the woman's face.

They were sitting thus when a horse-drawn vehicle turned into the lane and stopped outside the picket fence. Kate, who was facing the window, saw a woman approaching the house

and rose hurriedly to go to the door. There was a bell on the front door, and Abigail had been known to scream when suddenly startled by its Jangle.

A few minutes later Kate returned with an announcement more jarring to her sister-in-law's nerves than the peal of any doorbell. A lady from Terre Haute to see Mr. Richard Tom-linson.

Richard rose, but not before his wife's thin clutch had clamped upon his wrist.

"What woman do you know in Terre Haute?"

"None. Who is it, Kate?"

"She said you wouldn't know her name."

"What does she want?"

"She wouldn't say. You'll have to go see for yourself."

But Richard could go nowhere with Abigail's fingers binding his wrist.

"If some woman wants to see Richard, let her come in here."

He looked at his sister and said, "Ask the lady in here, Kate. There's no heat in the front room," quite as though that were his only reason for not going himself like a free man and finding out what was wanted.

Judith, waiting in the front room, looked about her with lively interest. It was an unusual room, to say the least; long, low-ceilinged, with a huge fireplace in the center in which hung a crane and copper kettle. Yet shelves of books flanked the fireplace, a square rosewood piano filled the space between the windows, and on the marble-topped table beside the family Bible and wax nosegay under glass lay a copy of David Copperfield—face down to mark the place.

Facing the chair in which Judith sat was a tall grandfather's clock. Its pendulum was still, and no reassuring tick noted the passing moments. Though the morning was still young, the hands of the clock pointed to half-past one. So like a ghostly

presence was the silent timepiece that she turned her chair to escape it—and saw the quaintest feature in the room.

In an alcove stood a great four-poster bed. Canopied and neatly spread with a handsome patchwork coverlid, it added rather than detracted from the charm of the room. Yet it was undeniably a bed, with a trundle bed beneath it. Judith wondered if it was used regularly or kept for unexpected guests.

And then her speculations were cut short by a pleasant voice inviting her into the dining room where there was a fire.

What Richard Tomlinson's real reaction was to the unexpected appearance of his chance companion at Macbeth would have been hard to guess from the immobility of his countenance.

"I don't know if you remember me, Mr. Tomlinson "

"Oh yes. I remember you quite well. Miss "

"Judith Amory."

"I didn't get your name in Terre Haute." Certainly none of the interested onlookers could have accused him of trying to hide anything.

"I must apologize, Mr. Tomlinson, for intruding "

"No apology is needed. You've come about the school, of course."

Judith almost gasped, so precipitately had her ruse worked. In the presence of his family Richard Tomlinson lost no time in establishing the basis of their acquaintance. Timberley school was as good as hers.

He introduced her to the others, and his mother insisted on her taking a place at the table. Hungry after her drive in the crisp morning air, Judith did not demur, and when a huge black woman lumbered in with fresh hot biscuits she helped herself copiously. Sweet country' butter, strawberry preserves, and whole spiced peaches, delectable in their own tangy juice, were pressed upon her. Now that the nature of her call was established, the Tomlinson women accepted her with the hospitality for which they were noted.

Meantime, the hawk-nosed doctor was enlarging upon the subject of the school. He, too, was a trustee, though he hadn't a child to his name, being a bachelor well past sixty. But he had ideas about education, and one of them was that no woman—particularly a young and delicate one (no compliment intended)—had any business teaching a country school.

"We've got boys at Timberley bigger than Richard himself. It takes a man to lick those fellows."

Judith was too shrewd to let herself be drawn into an argument with the old misogynist. She let him hold forth upon his favorite theme—woman's total inadequacy in any sphere outside the home—while she studied the women of Richard Tomlinson's household. His mother and sister she dismissed for what they appeared to be: two healthy, wholesome women, secure in their own small world.

But his wife was not so easily appraised. This was the invalid, who had been reported critically ill. Yet here she was sitting at the table in a rather handsome challis wrapper and apparently nothing the matter with her. She was frightfully thin and her color was bad, but to Judith, who had never seen Abigail Tomlinson in health, she did not look at all sick. She looked merely hungry.

The discovery came with something of a shock.

Then, while she answered questions put to her by the doctor, Judith became aware that Abigail was listening with keen interest to this talk about hiring a new teacher.

''You see, miss," Dr. Caxton was explaining, "nothing can be done until the school meeting. Mr. Tomlinson and I are only trustees, which means we handle funds and pay the teacher's salary after the district has selected him. We can call a meeting at the schoolhouse and place your application before it, but personally I think it's just a waste of time. Timber-ley district has never had but one woman teacher—Rosie MacGrath, who stood six feet and weighed a hundred and ninety—and even Rosie wasn't a success. It's my opinion that

the teaching profession is a strong man's job, barring female seminaries, which is where you've been teaching, you say."

Unfortunately Judith had already admitted that her experience had been confined to girls.

"But I can't agree with you, Doctor, that boys present the only disciplinary problem to the teacher. I've taught girls who were quite as difficult to control as any boy. Boys may be noisier, but girls are more sly. The more innocent they appear, the more likely they are to set the school in uproar, without ever being caught in mischief themselves."

Abigail Tomlinson opened her mouth as though to speak, then closed it.

Judith went on: "I don't believe any school can be controlled by force. If a teacher can't gain the respect of her pupils there will be no discipline, even though there are whippings every day. But if corporal punishment is needed at Timberley, I can administer it. To girls and boys alike."

An unexpected voice said harshly, "I think it's time Timber-ley had a woman teacher."

The effect was startling. The last person in the group from whom Judith had expected support was the wife of Richard Tomlinson.

"We've had men teachers for the last three years and all they've done is whip the boys ever so often to make the trustees think they're earning their salaries." Abigail looked at her husband accusingly.

He said to Judith, "The last teacher spanked our six-year-old and I'm afraid my wife has never forgiven him." It was the first word Richard had spoken since his visitor sat down at the table.

"I never heard of a girl getting whipped," retorted Abigail, "though I could name one that needs it."

Her husband made no reply. She went on in the same harsh tone:

"You should call a school meeting at once. Then you and

Dr. Caxton should tell the district that Miss Amory is exactly the person we need at Timberley. Tell them how smart she is. They'll vote her in. They do pretty much what the trustees advise."

Thus coerced, Richard Tomlinson had no alternative but to promise to call the meeting.

Judith asked practically, 'TIow soon can that be?"

"Let's see. This is Friday. I'll post a meeting for Monday night."

That was three days hence. Judith was not sure she could remain that long at the Barclays'.

Abigail said, "You can stay here if you like."

If Ann Tomlinson had extended the invitation Judith would have accepted. But Ann and Kate had excused themselves some time ago.

Judith said, "Thanks, but I don't like to impose on anyone. Isn't there a boardinghouse in this vicinity?"

"This is as near a boardinghouse as anything you'll find," said Abigail tartly, and Judith wondered what gnawing grudge gave an edge to every word this woman uttered.

"Perhaps I can arrange with Mrs. Barclay to board me until Monday," said Judith. "And if I secure the school"—she just glanced at Richard Tomlinson—"I suppose other teachers have found board this side of Woodridge."

He answered, "The teachers of Timberley school have always boarded at Timberley."

He held the door for her as she went out, then followed her to the picket fence where her horse was tied. Four children who had been playing in the yard left off their game of hopscotch to watch in silence while Richard helped the stranger into the livery-stable buggy and untied the mare. Judith was too annoyed to notice whether the children were boys or girls, because their presence prevented her saying anything to Richard Tomlinson beyond a perfunctory good-by. But as she drove away she got the impression of children immediately swarming over him, and she was quite sure that the one clinging tightly to his arm was a girl.