Where Two Ways Met (13 page)

Then she turned over firmly and really went to sleep. In the morning she would write it and mail it from the train.

T
he business that Mr. Chalmers wanted to talk over with Paige Madison was a commission to three different clients whose mortgages were to be foreclosed. There were some technicalities involved that Mr. Chalmers felt Paige, with his courteous ways, was well fitted to handle, and he had taken time to explain the whole matter carefully, so that there was no seeming unfairness in the whole transaction. Mr. Chalmers had learned by this time in his closer association with this young man that Paige was not easily fooled about such matters and that his early upbringing had been in the old-time, strictly honest manner. In fact, it was for this very reason that he had been so eager to get hold of this young man, because of his reputation and his frank face. Harris Chalmers had found through personal experience that Christian reputation and apparent innocence counted for a great deal in the business world, especially when the business itself was a little shady. The only trouble in this case was that the young man he was trying to train into the ways of his own business methods was almost too smart and too conscientious for the place he had cut out for him. So this initial trip on which he was sending him, as an experiment, required much coaching that there might be no hitches.

Nevertheless, when Paige started home a little after midnight, he was conscious again of that feeling of uneasiness about the whole thing. He hated this matter of foreclosure. He didn’t want to be a part of it. And of course he couldn’t just go around himself lending money to all these people who had failed to pay their interest on time. He had already gone rather deep into his slender savings for the Shambleys, and while he had no regrets about that venture, and felt reasonably sure that what he had loaned would in time be returned in full, still he could not go on doing the like indefinitely for a lot of other people.

He had felt uncomfortable about the whole matter of this commission while Mr. Chalmers had been presenting it to him, and had once told him that he would much prefer to stay in the office and work than to take the responsibility of such a trip as was being marked out for him. But his boss made it plain this was an emergency case, as their man who usually went on such trips was away in attendance on a very sick relative and might not be back for a couple of weeks, and these cases must be attended to at once.

Moreover, it had occurred to Paige while they were talking that this trip might make plain to him a number of matters that had worried him, and he was anxious to get his mind at rest about his job. So he had quite willingly consented to go with that idea in mind. But on his way home he thought it over again, just as before when he came home from the first interview. Was he getting wishy-washy? Was he becoming a worrier? He must put a stop to this. He must get rid of this question that was so shadowy in his mind, this question about his job. Well, perhaps this was a good way to settle it.

As he passed the manse, it occurred to him that this trip was going to upset his work with the Shambleys, for he would be away at least two days, and he must start early in the morning. But likely he wouldn’t be needed there so much just now, and June would look after things.

How he would have felt about the Shambleys if he had known that June was already on the train for the West, and uncertain when she could return, was something else. But he did not know, of course.

He had a vague memory that the best train he could catch in order to get his work well under way with dispatch would be very early in the morning. Perhaps that five-ten in the morning, and that would be too early to bother June. He would just have to ask his mother to call up and explain to her. Mother would keep an eye on the Shambleys, too, so of course he would not be missed, though he was going to miss the trips up there with June. But likely he mustn’t count on that too much. Only, he would like to finish that talk they had last night. She had told of a power that was at his service if only he were willing to meet the conditions, and he hadn’t been sure he was. Well, perhaps this trip would help him to decide whether he wanted to get that power at any cost, or go along without it, the way he had done all his life. Certainly he had no time to think about it now. He must pack and get a little rest, and it was getting on to one o’clock. He must turn his mind to practicalities.

So he parked his old car. And there was Mother waiting up for him, of course! Well, for once it was a good thing. He could tell her about the Shambleys and get her to phone June.

His mother was naturally ready to help with the Shambleys, and with his packing, and anything else where she was needed, and so in a short time she got him off to bed for his brief sleep. In the early morning, while June, in the lounge car of her train, was writing her bit of a note to him, Paige, on his train, was just settling himself for more sleep to add to his curtailed rest of the night before, and the two trains were hurrying the two young people many miles apart, leaving the Shambleys in the care of the two mothers and the nurse. Of course they could not be in better hands, but the whole setup was unexpected, to say the least.

It was odd, though, that Paige should waken with a strange dream. He was not given to dreaming, and it surprised him. In his dream, he seemed to see the car he had seen at the crossroads with Reva and her crowd in it, and then somehow there was June sitting in their midst, looking distressed. It seemed to him that he ought to go and try to get her out of that crowd. She didn’t belong there. And then suddenly Reva turned and gave him a languishing look and smile. Not that it pleased him to have her smile at him, but he found an oppression in his mind that somehow he was bound to her and must like it whether he wanted to or not. He could not seem to think this out, but when day came and the dream came back to his mind, he reasoned it out that his subconscious had carried the thought of his job, and that he must placate this daughter of his boss to keep that lucrative job. Well, he must put this notion out of his head. He had the job and was under obligation to do the best he could for it, as long as he kept it. Anyhow, this trip must be accomplished, whatever he thought of his boss. So he bestirred himself and got in shape for the day, wondering what it would bring forth and how soon he could hope to finish and go back home.

Sometimes the last conversation he had with June came to him, and he puzzled over some of the things she had said and wished he might have had that talk with her before he took this trip. Somehow, he was most frightfully dissatisfied with himself. Even his impulsive gesture of rescuing the Shambleys from their financial difficulties had not allayed his sense of being wrong in some way. It was ridiculous, of course, and it must be he was getting to think too much about himself. Perhaps Reva had been right when she said so much about having good times and recreation. Perhaps he had better get out and play some golf or tennis or something. Could he, for instance, entice Reva into playing either one and thus discharge any obligation he might have toward the daughter of his boss? Well, that would be something to think about later. Just now he had a day’s work before him and no time to trifle with idle thoughts.

So he snapped his suitcase shut, gathered his other effects together, and made his way to the dining car for breakfast. There was just about time for that before he would reach Boston. But as he hurried through the train, he gave a passing wonder if his mother had remembered to telephone June. But of course she would. She never forgot things like that.

June was waiting for her breakfast in the diner about that time. When her food arrived, she had her missive ready and asked the waiter if he could get it to the mail car for her. His eye caught the gleam of the bit of silver she laid beside the letter, and he took it quite willingly, and then June settled down to enjoy her breakfast. But somehow she could not get her thoughts away from the letter she had just mailed, and she found herself praying in her heart that it might reach the young man’s need.

Meanwhile at home, the two mothers were telephoning. It was Paige’s mother who was the first to call.

“I hope I haven’t wakened you all too early,” she said, “but I was commissioned to let your daughter know that my son has been sent away on a business trip and will not be able to help out in the work with the Shambleys today. He wanted me to call early lest June would think he had failed her. He didn’t get home last night until a little after one o’clock and had to leave on the five o’clock train this morning. He wasn’t sure but he might be away several days.”

“Well, that was rather rushing orders, wasn’t it?” said the other mother. “But don’t worry about June. She isn’t here. She had a call to the West and left on the midnight train, so you see, our children are both on the way elsewhere. But don’t worry about the Shambleys, either, for I promised to take over.”

“And so did I,” laughed Paige’s mother. “I guess we’ll have to take over in company. I have two loaves of brown bread in the oven. I was planning to take them over this morning. I have Paige’s car, of course. Will it be convenient for you to go with me?”

“Why yes, that will be lovely!” said June’s mother. “My husband has to call on someone in the country who is very sick so I can’t take our car, but I’d love to go with you, and if we both go, they won’t miss the children so much. I have an apple pie I think might appeal to the young lad. And some cookies.”

“Fine!” said Mrs. Madison. “I should think that ought to do for a start. And I’ll take a few flowers. That can’t hurt anybody, and often brings a lot of cheer. The little girl will like them if she’s well enough to see them.”

So the Shambleys were likely to be well cared for.

Meantime, Paige was on his way to his first commission. He went at once to the taxi headquarters.

He had decided to go straight to the homes and deal with the men of the house before they went to work, if he could possibly get there before they left.

The first name on his list was Reamer, and the taxi whirled out through the city streets and into the country, mean streets with run-down houses. It reminded Paige of the Shambley street, only
they
had plenty of trees and woods, and this street was stark and bare, with a hot sun already bearing down upon little paintless houses. It seemed strange to him that Harris Chalmers should bother with poor little places like this, and he watched the begrimed numbers on the doors anxiously. Was there some mistake in the address? He had checked each address over himself before he left the office.

The taxi drew up in front of a fairly decent story-and-a-half brick house. Three bricks off the top of the chimney were lying on the broken roof.

With a quick look around, sizing up the neighborhood, Paige said a few low words to the taxi driver. “Wait! I’ll call to you if I find I have to be longer than expected.”

The stolid driver nodded his head, and Paige went to the front door.

He knocked several times before there was a sound of footsteps within the house, discouraged footsteps shod in downtrodden shoes whose heels clomped down each step of the stairs and hesitated now and again as if the person who wore them was almost undecided about coming to the door at all. Paige knocked again in a very businesslike, determined way, and then the reluctant door was slowly unlocked and opened a crack. A discouraged-looking woman with eyes that had been crying looked out, with fright in her face.

Paige put on his kindliest tone and asked, “Is this where Patrick Reamer lives?”

The woman gave a reluctant nod.

“Well, is he in?”

“Yes, he’s in, but he’s sound asleep, and I wouldn’t dast to wake him.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” said Paige, smiling, “but I’ve some very important business with him, and I guess we
have
to waken him. Would you like me to go up and rouse him?”

“Oh
no
,” said the woman, with a frightened look in her eyes, “that would never do. He’d half kill me if I let anybody come up and wake him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Paige, “but I guess we’ll have to do something about it. This is important. You wouldn’t want the law to take hold of it, would you?”

“Oh—no,
no
!” said the poor woman, two slow tears beginning to course down her worn cheeks. “What’s it all about, anyway? Couldn’t you ask me about it?”

“Why, yes, maybe I could. Do you know about your house? Your husband owns it, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” gasped the woman. “That is, he do an’ he don’t. You see, we got a mortgage on it.”

“Yes, exactly. That’s what I’ve come about. Did you know that the interest is overdue and must be paid or the mortgage will have to be foreclosed?”

“Yes, I know, but we can’t pay it yet. My man was ta get paid last night. He was gonta have money enough to pay you half, he said, and mebbe a little more, but he never cum home all night last night. I expect he stopped at the tavern for a drink, and that finished him. He didn’t cum home till five o’clock this morning an’ he tumbled right inta bed with his boots on, an’ that’s whar he is now. An’ I looked in his pants pockets and everywhere else, an’ he hasn’t got a red cent left. That’s the way he gets when he goes to the tavern first before he cums home. But mebbe next month ef I go ta meet him at the fac’try I can get him home okay, an’ I’ll do a bit of washin’ here an’ there, and then we can pay.”

Paige’s face grew troubled. Was this what he was in for? Hounding poor people for money they didn’t have?

He looked down into the worried, pleading eyes of the desperate woman and wondered what he ought to do.

“Well, now, I wonder what we can do,” he said. “Suppose I come in and sit down a little while and let’s talk it over.”

He called to the taxi man to wait a little longer, and he went in and sat down.