The Prodigal Girl (13 page)

But Betty, who still wore her air of offended princess, resolved to have nothing further to do with the family. Jane was wriggling restlessly and at last she announced:

“I’m hungry! When do we eat? Aren’t you going to stop somewhere pretty soon?”

“We can’t waste daylight stopping,” said her father, with more of the old fatherly tone than he had used since the evening before. “I guess your mother has a snack along somewhere if you are hungry.”

That was the signal for a general sigh of relief.

“Right there in the hamper at your feet, John. Hand it up here. There are special packages for tonight. Hannah has it all organized.”

She opened the hamper with John’s eager assistance and began to hand out sandwiches all neatly wrapped in waxed paper, delicate chicken and ham between waferlike slices of bread and butter, a tang of mayonnaise, or was that a spiced pickle? Appetizing egg sandwiches and cookies that would melt in your mouth. Jane bloomed into good nature at once and filled both hands and her mouth eagerly. Doris and John accepted the little tin cracker containers that held their portions, and promised to be very careful not to drop any crumbs. Chris folded his lips about a whole small sandwich and went on driving with a look of feeling great responsibility for the car. Even Chester swallowed gratefully the cup of steaming coffee his wife poured from the thermos bottle. Only Betty refused to take part in the general good cheer. She would eat nothing. She would not drink any coffee, and she scorned the cup of milk from the other thermos bottle that Doris offered her. She sat with haughty demeanor, staring out at the gathering dusk, a princess in exile, chafing at her bonds.

When the hamper was all packed away again everybody seemed to feel better, everybody but Betty. One would almost have thought Betty was not there, so still she sat, so cold, so angry and immovable.

As it grew dark the twins got sleepy. Jane began to laugh and call attention to houses they passed and then to tell something funny she had heard that day, and the atmosphere cleared visibly.

Chester offered to take the wheel again, but Chris said in a grown-up tone, quite as if he were used to saying what should be done:

“No, Dad, you’re all in! I’ll drive carefully. You rest!” and Chester relaxed into the seat and watched his boy, watched also, furtively in the mirror, the dark, hard little face of his Betty and sighed, wondering if it was too late for little Betty. His Betty!

It was about this time that Chris discovered that a Ford truck was following them, had been for a number of miles, had turned whenever they turned, stopped a good distance behind them whenever they paused at traffic lights, and when they bore out on the lonely highways, came steadily on with them, as if it belonged.

“If I didn’t know we were miles away, I’d say that was Mike sitting on the front seat,” said Chris importantly, eyeing the dark car that came on like a distant shadow.

“It is,” said Chester. “Michael and his brother.”

“No kiddin’?” asked Chris in amazement. “Are they going with us?”

“They are bringing up some supplies,” said Chester, and opened his lips as if he would have said more, but closed them again.

The children grew silent again thinking what this might mean. It would look as if this were even a more serious business than it had at first appeared, this being kidnapped by one’s father. There seemed to be no nonsense about it. They were really going into exile. It occupied them fully for a little while, this thought of what it might mean for them if it was really true as their father had said, that they might never be returning.

Doris crept into her mother’s lap, before long, and went to sleep, and John stuffed a blanket between his seat and Jane’s and camped down with his head in Jane’s lap. Jane herself rested her head against the upholstery of the door and drowsed off, and then it all grew silent again save for a word now and then between Chris and his father.

Eleanor’s arms ached and her head swam, but she made herself fairly comfortable in her corner with Doris in her arms, and she too fell asleep. But Betty maintained her stiff, hard gaze out of the window, hungry and weary, but refusing to rest or to eat.

About midnight they came to a halt beside a long low, old-fashioned building that looked as if it might have been a country tavern sometime back in the 1870s. It was neatly painted and its wide, low-browed verandas, the lower one level with the sidewalk, gave it an appearance of being centuries old. Betty frowned at it in dismay. What could her father be thinking of to stop at a place like this? They had just passed a quite modern-looking brick hotel a couple of miles back, and here Dad had chosen this out-of-the-world, impossible-looking place! It was disgusting! It was all consistent with the rest of the crazy expedition. Dad must have gone out of his mind. But what could Mother be thinking of to allow this farce to proceed?

Chester got out and went into what seemed to be the office, though it was little less than a wide hallway with a big desk. He had a few words with the proprietor and then came out accompanied by a boy who began to take out suitcases.

Chester opened the car door and said, “Come!”

Jane shook John awake, and he stumbled out, more asleep than awake. Chris got out at his mother’s direction and helped Doris out, making her stand on her feet and helping her into the great wide parlor where she collapsed into sleep again on a convenient couch.

Eleanor gathered up some of the little things that had been stowed about her and followed. Betty was last. Her father waited patiently and then turned the car over to Michael who by this time had driven the Ford truck up behind them.

The parlor into which they had been shown while Chester went through the formalities of registering was a strange, quaint place, very long and spacious, but low of ceiling. The floor was covered with beautiful old oriental rugs, and the room was furnished completely and luxuriously with some of the finest old pieces of mahogany that Eleanor had ever seen. She could not help stopping to exclaim over their beauty, tired as she was. Three great sofas of priceless pattern, gateleg tables, leaved tables with lyre pedestals, rare old chairs covered with real needlepoint and carved by an expert’s hand, a whole dozen mahogany straight chairs all perfect, and all matched! How had they been preserved through the years! Some fine old engravings were on the wall, and a few oil portraits that bore the unmistakable hallmarks of a master’s brush.

“Chester! Where did you find such a place? How did you hear of it?” exclaimed Eleanor with the true connoisseur’s delight in the antique and the precious.

“Gartley told me about it this morning. Said it was worth a trip just to stop here overnight,” said Chester, looking around with eyes that seemed rested already. “I wasn’t sure just what it would turn out to be.”

He cast an anxious eye toward Betty who was standing in the doorway with curling lip. Nothing could be more out of harmony with Betty Thornton’s present mood than this quaint bit of yesterday in the guise of a hotel. She swept the long, lovely room with a scornful glance and turned on her little high heel with a shrug of her trim shoulders.

Chris was standing in the front door looking out disconsolately on a deserted square in the midnight, its bare, cobbled surface as empty as if it had been swept. On the opposite side were nothing but warehouses, softened by tall willows standing at intervals along the curb.

Betty took a quick step and was at her brother’s side, speaking low.

“For heaven’s sake, Chris, give me some cigarettes! I’m just ready to pass out!”

“Same here!” said Chris gloomily. “Do you mean you haven’t got any?”

“Not a one,” said Chris, “and not a red cent to get any if this dumb dump had any place to buy ‘em. I tried to get Mike to give me some, but he said he had only a pipe and he wanted that himself, and his brother don’t smoke. Whaddaya know about that? A full-sized man and don’t smoke. But say, Betts, what’s the matter with you lending me some money? I’ll go fifty-fifty.”

“I left my purse in my desk,” said Betty sadly. “I hadn’t an idea there was anything like this being put over. Dad wouldn’t wait a minute for me to go back.”

“Tough luck!” said Chris. “Guess I’ll have to part with my class ring. I don’t see going without.”

“I’ve nothing but a vanity case,” said Betty, frowning. “I can’t spare that. I’d stand a fat chance of getting another, and I’d be a fright to go anywhere if I ever get out of this.”

“Come, Betty,” said her father just behind her, so close his voice made her start. How much had he heard of their conversation?

Chapter 10

C
ome, Son! The rooms are ready, and I guess we’re all ready for bed,” urged Chester.

“Think I’ll take a little walk around and see the town,” ventured Chris suddenly, with a swagger that was a trifle overdone.

“Not tonight, Son,” said Chester, laying a firm hand on the shrinking shoulder of the boy. “We’ve a hard day’s ride before us tomorrow, and it’s high time to turn in. We’ve quite a mileage to our credit so far already. Come!”

There was no alternative but to turn their reluctant feet and walk upstairs. Well, perhaps there would be a chance to get out a window or something after the family had retired. Betty tried to convey the idea to Chris with her eyebrows as they straggled behind the others, but when they reached the second floor, they saw there had been unexpected arrangements made. Only two rooms were available, the larger one with two double beds, the other containing a double bed and a cot. Each had its private bath and both were clean and quaint and altogether attractive.

“Eleanor, you and the girls had better take this room,” said

Chester, looking around appraisingly at the larger room. “The boys and I will get along famously in the smaller one. Turn in now, quickly, and don’t waste time. I want to get started at least by eight o’clock, if you feel that will not be too early.”

“Are you sure it will not be too much for you, Chester, to start again so early? Remember, you had hardly any sleep last night, and you’ve been on the run all day. You are a sick man, you know.”

“Don’t you believe it!” said Chester, giving Eleanor a wan smile. “We’re off for a lark, and every hour that passes rests me. I feel that we’ve left all care behind.”

It was maddening! Betty turned away with a sick, empty feeling at the pit of her stomach and every nerve in her crying out for the stimulant to which she had been for months accustoming herself.

But in turning she caught sight of the little tin box of sandwiches, which Eleanor had taken the precaution to bring in, and swiftly, while her mother was still talking with her father, she reached for it and sneaked out several, hiding them in the folds of her coat and slipping into the bathroom to eat them behind a locked door.

When she came back into the bedroom again her temper was by no means improved, though her stomach was not quite so empty.

“I’m sure I don’t see why Dad picked out such a perfectly poisonous place to stay all night,” she growled bitterly. “What was the idea of herding us all into one room as if we were so many sheep? Why couldn’t I have a room to myself? I’m not a baby.”

Eleanor refrained from telling her that she was acting like one.

“Why, we thought this arrangement would be better, dear. You see, we don’t like to put the twins in separate rooms. They are so young to be in a hotel alone, I asked Daddy to fix it this way on their account. And then, too, you know it’s much cheaper to have only two rooms.”

“Oh, hen!” said Betty inelegantly. “Is it as bad as that? Are we really poor?”

“I’m afraid we are, dear!” said Eleanor, a pathetic note stealing into her voice. “Do, dear, try to be pleasant. Your father has a great deal to bear already—”

“Well, what did he let himself get into such a heck of a mess for, then?” said Betty. “I’m sure I think he was to blame!”

“Betty!” said her mother. “Hush! Don’t speak again tonight! You are unbearable!”

Betty slid out of her dress and, declining the sensible night array that Eleanor had selected for the journey, flung herself into one of the beds in the brief, flimsy silk affair that she was pleased to call underwear. She turned her back on a dreary world, resolved that she would find a way back into her own life again, somehow, even if the rest of the family had to go on and be poor. She felt that life owed her a good time, and she meant to have it, and no stuffy old father and mother were going to keep her from it.

As she closed her eyes she resolved not to sleep a wink and to be the first one out of the room in the morning. She simply had to manage a smoke somehow or she would go to pieces.

But in spite of her resolves, sleep took her unawares, and she was the last one to wake up in the morning.

Jane was poking her when she finally struggled up to face a bitter world once more.

“Wake up, Betts! Dad says we must be down to breakfast in five minutes.”

Eleanor felt refreshed. In spite of the rebellion of her children, and the approach of poverty, her heart somehow was lighter. They were all together. They were on their way—somewhere—and Chester seemed almost happy as he knocked at their door and asked how near ready they were. There was the old glad lure in his voice that there always had been when they all went off anywhere for a frolic. The journey that had begun in gloom and sadness might yet end in victory and a reasonable amount of comfort. She resolved to enjoy it while she could. If Chester had sad news to tell her tomorrow when he had settled down to face the future, she would try to bear it sweetly and help him in every way she could. It would be good to have this one more day together to look back upon just as if nothing had happened to interrupt their glad life.

And, too, there was a sense of security about having the children all there together where she could be sure what they were doing and what they were not doing. All the fears of the day before, all the awful happenings that had made her afraid to think about her children, seemed to have vanished with this morning’s sun, and not even Betty’s gloom as she arose and donned her brief apparel at her mother’s command could quite put her back in her wretchedness.