The Prodigal Girl (28 page)

It took him several seconds on that bottom step before he could gather breath to pull himself up and into the car. He dropped into the last seat and sat back relieved. It was not so much that last few feet of sprinting that seemed to have taken the strength from him. It was the whole tempestuous episode, the having to leave Eleanor and the children just before Christmas, the terrible need of getting that train because of the crisis that had arisen at home, the agony of watching that little plume of smoke coming nearer and nearer, and only one brave horse to bridge the distance. It seemed to him he would never forget the sound of that fiendish whistle as the train began to gain on them, as if it knew it was racing with humans.

In due time Chester’s mind calmed, and he got out his papers and began to do some important figuring, while station after station slipped by without his notice.

And all the time, in the second car ahead, curled up fast asleep in her seat, his daughter Betty rode.

Chapter 20

A
t Springfield he looked up, got out his watch and the timetable to see if they were on time. Well pleased that they were, he glanced out again and watched the crowds idly. As the train started on, he noticed a pretty girl who looked extremely like his Betty, standing on the platform. If he hadn’t just left Betty at home in her bed asleep, he would have been almost startled, this girl looked so much like her. Dressed as Betty did at home, too. A fur coat just like hers and a little black hat. He turned his head to watch her, keeping up the illusion pleasantly. She walked like Betty, too, carrying a little suitcase, with her small head tilted proudly and her back straight as a pipe stem.

The girl disappeared into the station and Chester went on with his figuring and thought no more about it. In due time he arrived in New York, making perfect connection with his home train. He was filled with satisfaction at the way things were coming out.

Meantime, back at home the family were making popcorn balls and gingerbread men and tin stars and cookies. They were busy and happy and did not even notice when a few lazy flakes began to come down.

It was not till they had cleared off the things and began to get lunch that Chris looked up.

“Aw! Gee! Look, it’s snowing again! Now we’ll havta sweep off that lake; it’ll spoil the skating! Gee, I hope it don’t snow all night. I don’t know how we’ll manage to get the lake clear without Dad!”

“Never mind,” said Eleanor soothingly, casting an anxious glance at the sky. “It doesn’t look so very dark. Perhaps it won’t snow long. Doris, you may go and wake up Betty now. Lunch is all ready to put on the table.”

But Doris came back with word that Betty wasn’t there.

“Oh, you’re a baby!” said Jane, speeding past her. “She’s in some other room. She’s probably gone in my room to borrow something.”

“No, she isn’t, Janie,” cried Doris, aggrieved. “She isn’t anywhere. I looked in all the rooms!”

“She’s probably up in the attic getting some more stuff for Christmas presents,” said Eleanor, setting a steaming dish of potatoes down beside another of creamed codfish. “Come, get up in your chair, Doris. We want to eat while the things are hot.”

But Jane came flying back wide eyed.

“She isn’t anywhere, Mums. I don’t think it’s fair. We thought she was asleep and here we did all the work, and she’s probably off hiding, reading an old book or something.”

“Aw, she’s in the attic,” said Chris. “Call her, can’t you? I’m holla as a log. Let’s get ta eating.”

“I went up in the attic,” affirmed Jane. “I looked behind all the trunks and everything. I bet she’s gone skating all alone. I say that’s not fair. Let’s eat all the lunch up!”

“Mercy!” said Eleanor. “I hope she hasn’t gone skating alone. Your father said yesterday there was a hole in the ice. It might not be safe!”

“Aw, her skates are here, Mums! She couldn’t have gone skating. Run back, Jane, and look again. You’ll find her. Call. Tell her about the popcorn balls. That’ll bring her. Hurry!”

“I tell you, I looked everywhere, and I’m not going to look again!” said Jane sulkily. “Betty won’t come for me anyway, ever. She thinks she’s too big to mind me!”

Then suddenly Eleanor dropped the dishcloth she was holding and sped up the stairs. A strange premonition had come to her. Something had happened to Betty!

Chris found his mother, five minutes later, sitting by the bureau in Betty’s room crying, a letter lying on the floor by the chair. Eleanor’s face was covered by her apron, and she seemed to be stifling great sobs, which shook her whole body. Chris had never had anything hurt him so as it did to see his mother cry like that, as if everything was lost. He went over and put his arms around her, gathered her up like a little child, and sat down on Betty’s bed with her still in his arms, his little mother!

And suddenly all the bad, wild, careless things he had ever done rose up and stood around him to shame him, and his face grew red and shy. He patted his mother awkwardly and tried to think what Dad would have done if he had found her instead. He was the man of the house now. He shook off the condemning past and rose to meet his manhood.

“Wha’s z’ matter, Mums?” he crooned shyly. “Don’ cry, Muth! I say, Muth, wha’s z’ matter? Tell a fella, can’t ya? Aw, c’mon!”

For answer, Eleanor suddenly buried her face in her boy’s neck and cried harder, and Chris’s eyes went wildly round the room wondering what he should do next? What did men do when women cried? He had always been the one to be comforted before. How did they do it? He had done his awkward best, and it did no good.

“Muth!” he said helplessly, almost reverting to the uncomforted one himself, feeling baby enough at this minute to cry himself and seek comfort from her.

Then suddenly his anguished, wandering gaze touched the letter lying on the floor. Betty’s handwriting! Why had Betty written a letter?

Some vague fear menaced his continued peace. He strained his eyes and tried to read the words, but only one here and there was readable from the crumpled paper lying so far away. “Christmas,” he saw and “poisonous.” “Perfectly poisonous” that must be. It would be if Betty wrote it. And, was that “Dudley”? Yes, that was a
W
after the Dudley. What had Dud Weston been doing? That
mutt!
Thought he was king! What did Betts see in him? Was that last word “Good” or “Good-bye”?

“Muth!” he cried in alarm. “Muth, where’s Betts?”

“She’s gone!” said Eleanor with a quick little sob that sounded like a knife.

Chris’s arms went round his mother tighter, protectingly, and his mouth shut in a thin, firm line that made him look like his father.

“Now, look here, Muth, be sensible! Betts can’t have gone far. We’ll get her. Where’s she gone?”

“She says she’s gone to get married,” said Eleanor, in smothered sobs, as if the son who was comforting her were older than herself. She seemed to be utterly dazed at the thought. “There’s her letter; read it,” and she motioned toward Betty’s note lying on the floor.

“Good night!” said Chris in horror. “Here, I’ll put you on the bed, Muth! You lie still and let me han’l this! Good night! Why, Muth! Betts is only a child! A mere child!”

He laid his mother gently on the rumpled bed that Betty had deserted at dawn and snatched up the letter, reading it with a deep frown on his young face.

Old dears!
it read,

I shall simply pass out if I stay in this poisonous dump any longer, so Dudley Weston and I have decided to tie up. You
needn’t feel bad, because we were going to do it anyway as soon as commencement was over, and this will help out a little in one way, for nobody will expect Dad to give me a wedding if I just go off. We’re thinking of making it companionate, so if things don’t go right we can just quit anytime. That ought to make Mums feel better about it, but I’m sure you’ll like Dud all right when he’s really in the family. I’m sorry about Christmas, but I’ll have plenty of money of course when I’m married, and I’ll send some real presents when I get somewhere. Till then these things can do. Bye-bye. Let you know later when we get our plans made. Have a good time
.

Betty

Chris cast a pitying eye toward his mother and tried to speak, but his voice choked up! He cleared his throat and tried again.

“I say, Muth, that’s a rotten deal! Betts oughtta be whaled when we get her home again. She’s a little fool! That’s what she is. What she sees in that Dud Weston! He’s just a loudmouthed boor! She thinks she’ll have plenty of money when she marries him! Why, that poor fish is always broke! His dad gives him a smaller allowance than we get, and he’s always spent it two or three months ahead. He goes around borrowing off the fellas. He borrowed two bucks off me just last week. I’ll bet a hat he borras the money to get married. That kid’ll find out whatta bad egg he is soon enough if she ever marries him! But we won’t let ‘er. We’ll get busy, Mums, and stop it! Don’t you worry, Mums, she can’t uv got far. How long d’ya ‘spose she’s been gone? He couldn’t ‘a come way up here after her. He doesn’t know the way. She musta walked ta the village ‘nless she got the milkman to take her. Wait! I’ll phone up there and see.”

“Wait! Chris!” said his mother, suddenly sitting up, wiping her eyes, “We mustn’t tell people! Not yet—anyway! We don’t want anyone to know what a wild thing Betty is trying to do. We’ll have to look out for your sister’s reputation, you know, dear.”

“Don’t you worry, Muth! I’ll be discreet all right. We gotta find out something to start on. We gotta work fast, you know. I’ll just ask the milkman if my sister caught him all right or did she havta walk all the way to the early morning train, see? That’ll make him think we were in on it.”

“He’ll think it very strange that we let her go down the lane alone so early in the morning.”

“Well, let him think! I’ll tell him the kid woke up early and slipped off so as not to wake us up! See? I’ll fix it up. Don’t you worry. No, Muth!” as she started to go downstairs with him, hindrance in her very attitude. “You lemme handle this! Dad said I was to be the man of the house. Now, you jus’ stay here, an’—an’ well, you jus’ stay here an’
rest!
Now I’ll han’l this all right. We haven’t any time to waste, you know.”

Eleanor sank back on the pillow with a quivering sob.

“All right, Chris. But you be very careful what you say, and
hurry!
I’ll stay here and pray!”

“Aw! Now,
Muth!
It isn’t as bad as that! You don’t havta
pray!
I’m handling this all right, an’ we’re gonta get
results
right off the bat! You just wait, and
rest!
Take a good
rest!
Then you’ll be all ready to make it nice for Betts when she gets back. Or bawl her out!” he added under his breath.

Chris went downstairs in three leaps, and she could hear his voice in the library below talking in low, grown-up tones.

But Eleanor was praying even while she held her breath to listen. She might be able to tell from the sound of Chris’s voice what replies he had received.

It was fully five minutes before Chris returned.

His face was grave and thoughtful, and there was not so much assurance in his voice as when he went downstairs.

Eleanor rose on one elbow and eyed him eagerly, a new dependence in her voice:

“Did she go with him?” she asked in a sharp, frightened voice. Little Betty! Her little daughter, guarded all her life, at least supposedly so, out alone with a strange milkman at four o’clock in the morning!

“They don’t know,” said Chris evasively. “He ain’t got back yet. He was going over across the mountain to buy a coupla cows he heard of, and he won’t be back till night. Whaddaya say, Muth, I hire a car down ta the village an’ chase after him? I cud catch him in no time with only that team he drives, and then like as not Betts hired him to take her someplace to meet Dud Weston, an’ I’d catch her before she met him, see? And bring her back.”

“No!” said Eleanor sharply. “You mustn’t leave here. You know your father said you mustn’t even go down to skate while he was gone. He wanted you here! I should die if I didn’t have you here. This is terrible! And besides, Chris, that would be a wild goose chase. You don’t even know that Betty is with him, and while you were gone something might turn up that would tell us where she really is.”

“But I’ve got a hunch she’s with the milkman. Right now. See? At least I think it’s worth trying.”

“Look here, Chris. That is not to be thought of. We can’t waste time going off on a hunch. And if you are going to do crazy things like that I can’t trust you to manage for me. You can probably telephone and get that milkman by this time at the place where he was going. His wife will know where to telephone. Besides, I don’t believe Betty has driven across any mountains in that old milk sled. She may have gone down to the village, but Betty would have been too impatient to ride a longer distance that way. She turned up her nose yesterday at having to ride in a sleigh like that with only straw on the floor for a seat. The thing to do is to find out if she went on the train. We must telephone to the station.”