The Street of the City (3 page)

Then she got to thinking about that little brick house up the river and the people who had just moved in. Would they have plenty to eat? Food fit for a sick woman? The sick mother and the little girl who had come across the icy way alone. She must see what food was quickly available in the refrigerator, in case somebody came back again. At least she could send it over by Joseph when he got back. Neither the woman nor the little girl would be able to do any cooking, of course.

There was a good bowl of chicken soup Hannah made last night. She always made enough for two or three days. And there would be some chicken breast, of course; there always was. She decided to fill one Thermos bottle with the hot soup, and the other with hot coffee. So she went to work, making delicate little chicken sandwiches, heating the soup and the coffee, and working happily in her own kitchen, where her faithful servants had not allowed her to lift a finger to work for years. It was fun, she told herself.

Yet all the time she was watching out the kitchen window, looking for somebody to come down the river. She worked swiftly to be ready if anyone came. And then she saw her young knight come out of the brick cottage and down the icy pathway, and she hurried into the living room to be ready to open the front door for him in case he came up again.

He came. With that grave, competent smile on his face.

“She’s recovered consciousness fully now,” he announced as he stepped inside the room and shut the door after him. “The doctor isn’t sure yet how serious it is, but at least she is able to speak. He says it looks to him as if it might be merely a case of exhaustion from having worked too hard on too little food. Of course the heart might be more affected then he can tell at present, but he hopes it isn’t serious. And the first thing that woman said when she came to herself was, ‘Don’t let my daughter know I fainted. Please don’t! She’ll be so worried, and she mustn’t lose her job! I’ll be all right now.’ The nurse is going to try to make something for her to eat, but there doesn’t seem to be much that’s suitable in the house. The doctor told me to ask if you can spare a little milk for immediate use. The child says her mother ate no breakfast this morning.”

“Milk? Why certainly! Here’s a whole bottle. Wait, I’ll get a basket. I have some other things ready. Coffee and chicken soup in Thermos bottles, and some chicken sandwiches. I thought that mother had been too used up to do much cooking. And here, put in a loaf of bread and a carton of butter. Some oranges, too, might come in handy.”

“That’s great, Lady Winthrop, I’m sure they’ll all come in for use and everybody grateful, including the nurse and doctor. I don’t think the people are exactly poor, just pretty hard up for the present, moving expenses and the like. The daughter has a job down at the first munitions plant. She hadn’t had it but a week or so, and I judge from the few words the mother said that she’s afraid she might lose it if she came home to look after her mother.”

“Poor child!” said the old lady. “I wish I might go over and help. I will when my car gets back. You see, I had a bad fall and sprained my knee and strained my ankle and I can’t walk very far, especially on snow and ice. I have to go everywhere in my car. It is providential that you came along. You’ve been wonderful!”

“Oh, I haven’t done much. I’m glad you called me.”

“Yes? Well, you see, I was watching for you. I’ve seen you go skating by on the river for several days. I knew you hadn’t gone by yet but it was your usual time, so I just watched for you. I hoped maybe you’d come. Who are you, anyway? Ought I to know your name? You seem to know mine.”

The young man smiled.

“No, you wouldn’t remember me. I’m Mrs. Haversett’s nephew, Val Willoughby. I stayed here with my aunt Mrs. Haversett for a year when I was a kid, while my mother was receiving treatment with a specialist in Vienna. I’ve been here several times since for a few days at a time. But I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me. It was a good many years ago. When Mother came back we went to the West Coast to live, and my trips east since have been brief and hurried.”

Lady Winthrop was studying the young man’s face, and gradually comprehension came to her eyes.

“Willoughby! Oh, you were little Valiant Willoughby, weren’t you? Yes, I remember the sturdy little boy with the round eyes and wide grin. It was your eyes and your grin that made you seem familiar when you came up the hill. And what are you doing here now? Visiting your aunt again?”

“Well, not exactly visiting. I’m staying at my aunt’s, of course, but I’m here for work now, not fun. I have a job down at the airplane factory.”

“Oh, you have! Well, aren’t you going to be very late to it? And it’s all my fault, of course.”

“Well, yes, I’ll be later than usual. But I’m in a way my own boss. Nobody will say anything. I’ll explain, of course, that it was an emergency, though I’m not really answerable to anyone but myself. But I guess I had better get going. They’ll be needing these things across the river, and then the doctor thought I had better stop and tell the daughter. She might blame us for not letting her know. The doctor feels it might be serious later, perhaps, although he thinks when the woman gets something to eat she may rally and be really on the mend. He says she’s probably been going on her nerve for several days. Perhaps longer. Well, so long! I’ll be seeing you again. I’ll let you know tonight how things go.”

She watched the young man striding down the snowy way on those treacherous-looking skates. How nimbly he trotted down that crusted slope! How skillfully he skimmed out upon the glassy surface of the river and went on his way with the basket balanced so easily on one arm.

She watched him out of sight, till presently she saw him returning, and when he neared the foot of the hill he lifted his cap in a courteous bow and pointed on down the stream. He was hurrying now to the city.

She opened her door and waved a frail hand in acknowledgment and got another wave from the cap in his hand as he turned and sailed off toward Hemlock Rocks.

W
hen Frances Fernley was ready to go to her job that morning she turned back and looked at her mother.

“Oh Mother, I wish you’d promise me something. Promise me you won’t do a bit of work until I get back. There are hardly any dishes, and Bonnie can do those. I promised her she might, and you know she’s very careful handling them. Besides, the ones we are using are just the old cracked ones anyway, and even if one broke it wouldn’t be much loss. Now Mother, you will go right upstairs and lie down and get a real sleep, won’t you? I’m so worried about you. And you know I can’t keep my mind on my work when I’m worried. If you would just promise me I know you wouldn’t break your word. Please, Mummie!”

“All right,” said the mother with a weak shimmer of a smile on her tired, worried face.

“You know the rest of the goods will probably come late this afternoon,” went on the girl, “and we all want to be fresh and rested to get things in apple pie order before we sleep. You know you can do a lot more if you are really rested, Mother. And there isn’t so much that needs doing now before the other furniture gets here. You take a good long nap on your bed, and then about eleven o’clock you and Bonnie run over to the store and get what we’ll need for dinner. That’s enough for you to do today. Will you really do that, Mother?”

“Why yes, surely I’ll rest. Now run along quick, Frannie, or you’ll be late for your work.”

So the girl had stooped and kissed her mother, and then gone carefully down the wooden steps to the ice, stopping to make sure the lacing of her skates was fastened firmly, then went skimming off down the ice, looking back to wave good-bye and blow a kiss to Bonnie at the window.

As she went skimming along in the bright morning air her thoughts were with her white-faced mother whom she realized was working too hard. It was all too evident. She tried to think how she might make these few hard days at the beginning easier for her. Of course, she could have stayed at home today and helped more, but she had a good job with an amazing salary for such a young beginner as she was, and both she and her mother felt they must not trifle with it, especially not now right at the beginning of things. A little later when she was sure of herself and could take some time to help get settled, perhaps she could find a young girl who would come in to do some of the heavier work, or a stronger, older woman to take the burden from her mother. For the mother had warned her that they must not spend any more of their tiny capital in hiring help until it was absolutely necessary, and until Frannie was sure she was going to be satisfactory to her boss and that her job was dependable. She must not take success as an assured thing until she had been tried out by her superior.

So, against her strong intuitions she had gone away that morning, hoping that all would be well until she got back and resolving to inquire around and find out whether there was a woman she could get who would be right for them. Maybe some of the women who lived in those smaller houses over in that far row. And yet those houses must, of course, be filled with people who had money, for they had to be bought. They were not for rent. And that took money, more down payment than they owned. The little tumbledown brick where they lived was quite old and just ready to fall apart or they would not have been able to rent it.

Another thing that worried her was that they had no close neighbors. Those houses in that far row were at such a distance that she was not sure if they were even finished. Maybe nobody lived in them yet. That made her a little uneasy to leave her mother and sister alone all day. Suppose something happened! There would be nobody nearby to go to for help. But of course nothing would happen. Not in the daytime. And pretty soon they would get a telephone so Mother wouldn’t have to go to the store for groceries. The store was five blocks away. But they had been so delighted at the idea of living near the river. It would be so lovely in the summer. And now, too, all frozen this way, it was wonderful, and it was saving her carfare, too. She was going to get Bonnie a pair of skates and teach her to skate. She was not too young to learn. When she got home this evening she would look in some of the big boxes that had come yesterday and see if possibly her own first skates weren’t there somewhere. The ones her dear father had taught her to skate on so very long ago.

So she hurried along, over the smooth ice, so glad the way was clear, so glad it had not snowed in the night. It was wonderful weather; five whole days, ever since they had moved, there had been clear, cold weather. Of course it couldn’t last much longer, and then she would have to start earlier to walk to the bus that would take her to the plant.

She sighed at the thought. It was so much pleasanter going this way—no crowded buses, no stuffy air. Just this grand cold snap in the tingling crisp air and sunshine. It made the blood simply dance in her cheeks and gave her such a free feeling, almost as if she were really happy again, the way she used to be before her father died and there were not so many burdens to bear. Mother looking so worn and sad, so worried at her having to go off into the world and work. Oh, of course Mother didn’t mind her working. But she did hate to have her go off into conditions that were all strange and new to her. Mother had old-fashioned, sweet ideas that a girl ought to be guarded and not have to go and work in offices among men. Mother wanted to know the people herself among whom her daughter worked all day. Someday, perhaps she would understand that it wasn’t bad. It was really very nice and orderly, and the men among whom she worked were kind and pleasant. And then there were a number of boys, just like the high school boys with whom she had so recently been associated. Some young college men, too, who had been debarred from military service because of some physical defect or weakness. They were fine and kind, and she had a feeling that everybody in the plant was wonderful.

She had come out into the world of business with the idea that she must be on her guard wherever she went. But she was gradually coming to feel that attitude had been a mistake. All the men she met were so helpful, so ready to tell her what to do when she asked a question, that she gave her sweet, shy smile in return. It gave her a happy, satisfied feeling. She must make her mother understand how kind and in earnest everyone was, and that perhaps would keep her from her constant worrying.

So it was with an almost light heart that Frannie sat down on the snowy bank to remove her skates and slip on her other shoes for the day, and then tucking her skates into the ample pockets of her old coat, she ran lightly up the steps that led to the door of the building where she worked.

As she went toward her desk, two young men stood at the end of the room and talked, watching covertly the different people in the room.

“There she comes,” said one with a weak face and pale eyes. “Isn’t she a honey? Gosh, she’s a sight for sore eyes. And look how she walks. She arrives on skates by the river! And can she move? Just like some little bird! Boy! I’m telling you.”

“Yes, she sure is a smooth little number,” said the other, who went by the name of Spike Emberly, “I think I’ll make a date with her for tonight and try her out as a dancer.”

“Not on yer life you don’t,” growled the other. “She’s my find. You keep hands off or you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, will I?” leered the boy with the mop of dark, curly hair and bold eyes. “How do you know but you’ll be the sorry one? Well, here goes! Watch me!”

He strode ahead and fell into step with Frannie as she walked toward her desk. She looked up, startled, into the bold black eyes.

“Hello, beautiful!” He greeted her with the kind of grin that did not belong in her social stratum. “I’ve been waiting for you. Want to make a date? How about going places tonight? Take you to a swell joint for dinner. Good eats, good drinks, and then we’ll go dancing. That okay with you?”

Frannie gave him a frightened look and lifted her chin gravely.

“Thank you, no!” she said with finality. “I am busy this evening.”

“Then how about tomorrow evening? That’ll give me more time to make arrangements.”