The Prodigal Girl (27 page)

The thread of a moon like a silver boat hung low in the sky now, almost over the brink of the horizon, just tilted a little lazily, as if its work for the night was done, and it was about to drop over into another world to rest.

The woods on either side of the road seemed dense and full of awful shadows. One could almost expect bears or bandits to walk out of them at any minute, and behind her she kept imagining a continual procession of people coming on to catch up with her, but she made her painful way mile by mile and saw not a soul. Once off in the distance she heard sleigh bells, but they stopped soon, and the next time she heard them they were farther away.

Unharmed, she came at last through the woods and down into the still sleeping village. She drew a deep breath and put down her burdens on the outskirts of town to rest and warm her hands inside her coat. Her feet were numb, and when she tapped them on the snow to try to get the blood moving they stung painfully. She wished she had worn her heavier shoes or brought the warm woolen stockings her mother insisted upon her wearing for skating.

As she walked down the village street, the frozen lake with its huddle of cottages and boathouses had turned to pink and gold, and a new world burst upon her jaded sight. She had never seen such early morning before. It was lovely. But she was by this time too frightened and too tired to appreciate it.

She was petrified with anxiety when she found the station was not open. Off in the distance about two blocks she saw a light in the kitchen of a house. She might go there and get warm, but they would ask questions, and besides, she might miss the train. So she settled down on her suitcase on the sheltered side of the station, covered her feet as much as possible with her coat, and waited for the day to break and the train to come.

It came at last, and she had to get on without buying a ticket, for the station agent was just taking down his shutters as the train crawled round the curve, and there was no time for tickets.

It rather frightened her to see how little money she had left after paying her fare to Springfield. For the first time it occurred to her to wonder what she would do if Dudley did not keep his word.

But she was too weary and too sleepy to think long about anything just now. It was warm in the car, too warm, and she soon curled up in the corner of her ill-smelling seat and went sound asleep.

Back at the farm things had been happening also.

Eleanor was putting a pan of muffins in the oven when the telephone rang. Jane was setting the table.

“I don’t see why Betty can’t come down and do this,” Jane complained. “It’s her turn to set the table.”

“Never mind this time,” said Eleanor. “She can take two turns the next two days. I wouldn’t wake her this morning; she seemed so very tired last night. Go tell Daddy his phone is ringing.”

Jane called up the stairs to her father, and Eleanor came to the kitchen door with a troubled look.

“Don’t make a noise, Janie, dear. Really, it isn’t kind. Betty was not feeling well last night.”

“Oh, rats!” said Jane crossly. “Perhaps I wasn’t either. Betts just lies down on her job every time and you let her! I’m sick of it. When are we going back home? I want Hannah! This is a heck of a life!”

“Janie!” said Eleanor in dismay, tears sounding in her voice. “Why, Jane dear, I thought you liked it here! You’ve seemed so happy and have been working so well.”

“Oh, it’s all right!” shrugged Jane. “When everybody works together I don’t mind, but when Betts gets this princess complex, it makes me tired! Who crowned her, I’d like to know?”

But Eleanor had no chance to answer that. Chester came out of the library excitedly:

“It’s too bad, Nell, but I’ve got to go back home to sign some papers. There isn’t time to get them here and back again, and it involves a great deal of money. But it can’t be helped. Can you get along without me for a couple of days?”

“Oh, Chester!” gasped Eleanor in dismay, feeling as if the earth were reeling under her. “And Christmas—The children!”

“I know! It’s too bad! But I hadn’t any choice. I’ll make it back before Christmas Day is over if it’s a possible thing. We’ll make it up to them somehow!”

“Now Daddy, I think that’s
rotten!”
burst out Jane. “No Christmas! And you gone! I wish I was
de–e–e–ead!
Well, I do!” And Jane broke into a torrent of angry tears and flung herself down on the couch, shaking with sobs.

Chester turned impatiently toward Eleanor, looking suddenly gray with anguish.

“It can’t be helped!” he said almost hoarsely in his excitement. “I’ve got to go, Eleanor. Can you come upstairs and help me a minute? John Dowley is going to stop for me and run me down to the train. I just telephoned him. There’s barely time for me to catch it. Could you put some buttons in a clean shirt for me, Eleanor?”

“But you must sit down and eat something first,” began Eleanor.

“I haven’t time, I tell you!” said Chester excitedly and tore up the stairs. “I can get something on the train.”

“Get up, Janie, and make some coffee quick for Daddy!” called Eleanor as she vanished up the stairs.

“Good night!” said Chris, appearing at that moment from the woodshed where he had been getting an armful of wood. “What’s eating you, Jay? This certainly is some house!”

Jane sat suddenly up and glared at her brother, eyes blotched with tears, lips puckered with disappointment, shoulders shaking with more sobs:

“Daddy’s got to go back home! He won’t be here for Chris–s–s–muss!”

“Dad going home!” exclaimed Chris, turning suddenly white and frightened. “W–w–w–what for?”

“Oh, I du-no!” bawled Jane. “Some old papers he’s gotta sign. I think this earth is a horrid old place. This Christmas’ll just be
l
–
l–l–l–ost!
That’s what it’ll be! I w–w–w–ish we could
all
go home and get back to real life again!”

But Chris was up the stairs three steps at a bound and made no reply. He appeared at his father’s door white and anxious.

“What’s the matter, Dad?” he asked, a note of almost fright in his tone. “Anything more about that check?”

Chester paused one instant to take in the look on his son’s face and flashed him a smile.

“No, Son, that’s all right. This is the office. A contract that I have to sign and something about a loan that has to be put through early Monday morning. There isn’t time to get the papers here for signature and back again for Monday. You look after Mother and the kids, won’t you, Son? Sorry about Christmas, but I may get back before the day is over. You do what you can to make up. You’re the man of the house.”

“Yes sir!” said Chris, looking pleased and relieved. “Yes sir!”

The next ten minutes were strenuous. Chris went to the attic for his father’s suitcase and manifested a man’s intelligence in getting the right things together to put into it. Eleanor sewed on a missing button and hunted clean collars and cuff links. Even Jane roused herself, sobbing, with the tears still blurring her eyes, and poured a cup of coffee for her father, creaming and sugaring it just as he liked it and making two dainty sandwiches for him to eat on the way.

It seemed no time at all till Chester was striding from the door, too hurried even to kiss them, calling back directions, and waving good-bye in the early morning sunshine, as the old farm sleigh bumped its way over the ruts and out down the lane.

The family turned back to the house that seemed suddenly deserted and empty.

“Aw, gee!” began Chris, and then caught a glimpse of Eleanor wiping a furtive tear from her eye, and changed his tone. “Say, Mums, you go sit down and eat a good breakfast. You’ve been on the double jump ever since you got up. Here, Janie, you put back those muffins in the oven and get ‘em hot. Let’s all sit down and eat. That’ll make the time go. And while we eat let’s plan some surprise for Dad when he gets back. Say, Mums, can’t we put off Christmas till Dad gets here? Make it daylight saving or something, just set back the clock a coupla days or something? What say? Nobody round here’ll know what we’re doing, so we can’t be interrupted by any nosey people that wantta know why we’re doing it. Just pretend it isn’t time yet. How’ll that do?”

His voice was cheerful and even enthusiastic, and Eleanor stifled the sigh that was in her heart and smiled.

“Surely!” she said. “Why not? This interruption was something we couldn’t help so we might as well make the best of it.”

Jane looked up hopefully.

“Do you think Daddy will bring some candy or something back with him?” she asked.

“Well, I’m not sure,” said Eleanor, hating to spoil the child’s ray of hope. “You know Daddy will be very busy every minute he is there; no time to go out and buy anything, even if he could afford it—”

“Oh, I forgot the old money!” said Jane disconsolately. “Won’t he ever have any money again?”

“Why, I hope so,” said Eleanor, trying to banish the fear that clutched at her own heart. “I haven’t talked about money to your father since we have been here. The doctor told me he ought to get away from everything for a little while and have a real rest. I thought the main thing was to be cheerful. But I imagine there must be some hope somewhere for the business or he would not be going down to sign a new contract, although it may be just something about settling up with their creditors. I didn’t have time to ask him. But such things don’t really matter, Jane dear, if we are all together and all well. We’ll pull out of the troubles. Let’s just get ready for Daddy’s homecoming and make him have a good time so he will forget if he has had any business troubles while he was gone.”

“But what shall we do?” asked Jane mournfully. “We’re all ready for Christmas now.”

“How about popcorn balls?” said Eleanor brightly. “Would you like to make some of those? And we must string a lot of popcorn for the tree and cut out things to put on it. Oh, there’s a lot to do. There’ll hardly be time to get it all done. Here, John, you and Doris eat your breakfast and begin to shell the popcorn. The milkman brought a lot of it over yesterday. And Chris, there’s an old popper hanging in the woodshed. You might try scouring it a little. I think it would be all right if some of the rust was rubbed off.”

“Oh, how darling!” said Jane, sunshine coming back into her face as suddenly as it had gone. “Shall I go wake up Betts? She’ll like making popcorn balls, I’m sure.”

“No, don’t wake up Betty yet,” said Eleanor. “Let her sleep till she feels like herself again. She’ll feel more like working if she’s had her sleep out. Let’s get everything ready first, the table all cleared off and the dishes washed. I thought about making some cookies in the shape of stars, too.”

“Fine!” said Chris. “And Mums, how about me cutting out some tin stars from the tomato can tops for the tree.”

“Why, that’s a wonderful idea. I was wondering how we were going to get something silver on it.”

“And say, Mother,” put in Doris, “couldn’t you make some gingerbread men with currants for eyes, like the story in my book at school?”

“I think I could,” laughed Eleanor, her heart growing lighter as she saw each one of the children beginning to take hold of the idea of a delayed Christmas. Now if only Betty would be as cheerful, everything would be all right. She dreaded Betty’s coming down, lest she would cast discouragement and blight upon all the others. She decided to let Betty sleep as long as possible.

Meantime the horse that John Dowley had hastily harnessed to take Chester to the early morning train was racing down the road with a wicked stride as if he rather enjoyed the errand, and his sleigh bells jingled a merry tune in the frosty air.

“Stand a pretty good chance of makin’ her,” said John Dowley as he wrapped the reins around his big sheepskin mitten and gave the secret cluck to his horse that let him know he might go his best pace.

“I’m afraid not, if my watch is correct,” said Chester, taking it out again and looking at it anxiously as if it might have something encouraging to say about it. “Is this train ever late?”

“‘Times it is,” said John Dowley, “when there’s a blizzard upstate. But we’ll make her.”

The horse skimmed over the rough road, and the sleigh bumped along, almost upsetting at times, and then righting itself amazingly. Chester sat grimly in his seat holding on to the sleigh and trying to plan what he should do if he missed the train and stopped at every crossroad and watering trough as it were.

They had climbed the hill now and were coming down the other side. The little village lay spread out before them, the station a mere red dot at one side. The sun on the lake flashed back at them, dazzling their eyes. The black gash in the whiteness of the landscape that was the railroad track wound away in the distance, and at the extreme end there was a plume of smoke.

“She’s on her way!” said John Dowley with set lips. “But we’ll make her.”

“Is that the train off there?” asked Chester with anxious eyes watching the little plume of smoke pause, spume up again, and begin to move.

“That’s her!” said John Dowley. “She’s stoppin’ at the crossin’! Up, Blackie, we gotta make her!”

The horse seemed to understand and plunged on, and Chester went through the mental process several times of gripping his suitcase and sprinting for the train at the last minute.

The train came on and was lost to view as the sleigh dashed into a little wood, but they could hear the whistle, shrill and defiant, echoing among the hills. Chester’s heart beat fast, and he felt as if he were running with the horse.

The train was just screaming into town as they rounded the corner by the little white church and took the shortcut behind the stores to the station. But someone had left a truck across the road, and Blackie had to turn out for it and wallow a wild minute or two to get around it. Chester’s heart sank once more. It seemed hopeless now and no use to get out and sprint, for the drift was too deep to run in. Then Blackie righted himself, pulled free of the snow, and was off again. John Dowley stood up in the sleigh and gave the horse the reins, and truly the horse seemed to understand.

The train was just pulling out of the station as they drew up at the far side, out of sight of the engineer who might have waited if he had known. Chester sprang from the sleigh, suitcase in hand, just as he had planned, and sprinted for the slowly receding end of that train. He almost lost his footing on a spot of ice but caught himself and whirled on, catching the last car and reeling to the step with something of his boyhood’s agility.