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diff --git a/40024-0.txt b/40024-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e47acb --- /dev/null +++ b/40024-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7279 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40024 *** + +[Illustration: Book Cover] + + + + +REBECCA'S PROMISE + + + + +By Frances R. Sterrett + + + Rebecca's Promise + Jimmie the Sixth + William and Williamina + Mary Rose of Mifflin + Up the Road with Sallie + The Jam Girl + + * * * * * + +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY +Publishers New York + + + + +[Illustration: SHE THRUST THE VIOLETS INTO REBECCA'S HAND [page 4]] + + + + +REBECCA'S +PROMISE + + +BY +FRANCES R. STERRETT + +AUTHOR OF "JIMMIE THE SIXTH," "MARY ROSE OF MIFFLIN," +"THE JAM GIRL," ETC. + + +[Illustration] + + +ILLUSTRATED BY +E. C. CASWELL + + +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY +NEW YORK LONDON +1919 + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + + + + +TO +LILIAN JOSEPHA STERRETT + +who believes in memory insurance +for you and for me. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + FACING + PAGE + She thrust the violets into Rebecca's hand _Frontispiece_ + "Do you mean to tell us that we can't go?" 152 + "Hello, Kitty!" 302 + "I love you, Rebecca Mary" 324 + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +"I never should have brought you here," murmured Cousin Susan Wentworth, +as she looked across the table at young Cousin Rebecca Mary Wyman, who +sat on the other side of the white cloth like a small gray mouse with +bright expectant eyes, a pretty pink flush on her cheeks and her head +with its crown of soft yellow brown hair held high. "I should have saved +my money for new kitchen curtains. The curtains in my kitchen are a +disgrace to any housekeeper. But life wouldn't be worth much if we +didn't occasionally do something we shouldn't, would it?" And she smiled +at pink-cheeked Rebecca Mary. "The memory of this pretty room with the +gay crowds of people, the music, the good things to eat will last longer +than any curtains. And I can cut down the old bedroom curtains for the +kitchen. Rebecca Mary, did you ever think that is what life really is, +cutting down our desires to fit our necessities?" + +Rebecca Mary sniffed. She had known that for twenty-two years. She did +not have to be thirty-nine like Cousin Susan to learn that necessities +always crowd out desires. And anyway she did not wish to talk of +necessities, they were stupid and uninteresting, when for once in her +life she was a part of what no one in the wide world could ever consider +a necessity. + +She let Cousin Susan study the card the attentive waiter handed to her, +and while Cousin Susan tried to keep her mind from prices and on names, +Rebecca Mary's bright eyes roved over the big brilliant room. She had +never expected to enter it. She had scarcely believed her two pink ears +when they told her that Cousin Susan had said, quite casually, "Rebecca +Mary, suppose we go to the Waloo for tea?" Rebecca Mary had given a +startled gasp, but here she was at the Waloo trying to forget that her +old blue serge suit was wide where it should be narrow and narrow where +it should be wide, and that her hat had only been given a good brushing +to make it ready for another season. + +Afternoon tea was served at the Waloo in the Viking room, a beautiful +place with its scenes from the old Norse sagas on the walls above a +wainscoting of dark wood and with lights like old ship lanterns hanging +from the beamed ceiling. The chairs and tables were suggestive of long +ago days, also, but the linen, the silver, the dainty china, the music +and the guests were very much of to-day. + +Rebecca Mary watched the young people almost enviously as Cousin Susan +hesitated over _foie gras_ sandwiches, which were expensive and +therefore suitable for an occasion which was to cost her kitchen its new +curtains, and lettuce sandwiches which were cheap and which she made +herself every time the Mifflin Fortnightly Club met with her. Rebecca +Mary could easily imagine what joy it would be to come to the Viking +room in smart new clothes and with a young man like--like that tall +young fellow who was with the girl in the wistaria taffeta. It made the +pink in Rebecca Mary's cheeks turn to rose just to think of what joy +that would be. + +There were any number of girls in the Viking room with whom Rebecca Mary +would have changed places in the twinkling of an eye. It hurt almost as +much as an ulcerated tooth to watch those radiant young people. And when +you have an ulcerated tooth you don't, unless you are strong-minded or +philosophical or stoical, laugh and chatter gayly; you know you don't. +Rebecca Mary wasn't strong-minded nor philosophical nor stoical, she was +just a girl who had never had anything and, oh, how she did want +something, and she wanted it right away. That was why her eyebrows +frowned yellow-brownly, and the corners of her mouth drooped a bit. + +"Oh, Cousin Susan!" she groaned, "why did we ever come here? Why didn't +you take me to Childs'?" + +"Eh?" murmured Cousin Susan, still hovering between expense and +curiosity. + +But before she could say another word a little girl ran up to them, an +elflike little thing, who held a huge bunch of violets in her hand. She +had been following a man from the room when she had seen Rebecca Mary +and dashed around the tables, just missing a disastrous collision with a +fat waiter, to arrive breathless beside her. + +"Oh, Miss Wyman!" she whispered, her small face aglow with importance. +"I'm so glad I saw you. This is my birthday, and my daddy brought me +here for tea just as if I were all grown up. He bought me these violets, +too, and I've had them all afternoon so I'd like to give them to you now +because," her face grew crimson, and her voice rang out above the hum of +voices, "I love you!" She thrust the violets into Rebecca Mary's hand +and ran away without giving Rebecca Mary a chance to say one word. + +Rebecca Mary just saw a portion of her father's back as he disappeared +through the door, and she looked down at the violets with an odd flash +in her gray eyes. No one ever had given her violets before. She had +always picked them herself on the sunny slope of the bluff at Mifflin. + +"What a dear child," smiled Cousin Susan. "Who is she?" + +"One of my pupils, Joan Befort. Yes, she is a dear." Rebecca Mary buried +her hot cheeks in the cool fragrance of the violets for a moment. + +When she lifted her head she met the amused glance of an elderly woman +at the next table. She must be a grandmother woman, Rebecca Mary thought +swiftly, although she did not look like any grandmother Rebecca Mary +knew with her smart and expensive hat and blue gown, on the front of +which was pinned a bunch of violets and an orchid encircled with +foliage. The smile which lurked around the lips of this most +ungrandmotherly looking grandmother made Rebecca Mary remember little +Joan Befort's fervent declaration of affection, and she smiled, too. How +funny it must have sounded in the crowded tea room. "I love you!" +Rebecca Mary giggled, she couldn't help it, even if she was most +dreadfully embarrassed. + +At the table beside the ungrandmotherly looking grandmother was a young +man the very sight of whom sent Rebecca Mary into a quiver of delight. +She had seen his picture in the Gazette too many times not to recognize +him. He was young Peter Simmons, who had left college in his sophomore +year to drive an ambulance in France during the second year of the great +war. He had been awarded a _croix de guerre_ for "unusual bravery under +fire," and later had gone into the French flying service until he could +fight under his own flag. He had been with the American Army of +Occupation in Germany and had only recently returned to Waloo. No wonder +Rebecca Mary thrilled all down her back bone as she realized that she +was looking at a hero. She stared and stared for she might never see one +again, and the hero raised his eyes and saw awed admiration written in +huge letters all over her flushed face. + +Evidently young Peter Simmons did not care for awed admiration, perhaps +he had had too much of it, perhaps it made him unpleasantly +self-conscious, for he scowled blackly and murmured an impatient +something to the grandmother which made her look at Rebecca Mary again. +Rebecca Mary turned a deep crimson and was horribly uncomfortable. She +knew very well what they were saying, that such a shabby girl had no +business among the fine birds in the Viking room, and she scowled, too. +She could give scowl for scowl as well as any one. Peter's black frown +made you laugh, but there was something rather pathetic about Rebecca +Mary's bent yellow-brown brows, perhaps it was because her lower lip +quivered as she hastily averted her shamed eyes. + +On the other side of young Peter was a girl no older than Rebecca Mary, +and she was so prettily and smartly clothed that she made Rebecca Mary +feel like Cousin Susan's kitchen curtains, old and ragged. But every one +in the room made her feel like that, she thought miserably, and she +tossed her head higher to show how little she cared as her glance roamed +on to the man on the other side of the grandmother. Of course the +grandmother must be old Mrs. Peter Simmons, and old Mrs. Peter Simmons +was one of the most important women in Waloo, so important that a poor +little school teacher like Rebecca Mary could never hope to know her. +Rebecca Mary rather liked the face of the man on the other side of Mrs. +Peter Simmons. He was older than young Peter, and the most doting friend +could not have called him handsome, but he had something much better +than perfect features. He was the type of man who would do things, she +decided, and then she saw Mrs. Simmons turn to speak to him and with a +little shrinking feeling of horror Rebecca Mary knew that they were +talking of her, for the man who could do things raised his head and +looked directly at her. For a moment their eyes met. Rebecca Mary was +furious to feel her cheeks burn and her heart thump. She scowled before +she turned her head quickly. She wouldn't look at that table again. I +should say not! + +There were other tables and other family parties, and, oh, dear! other +couples. Old Samuel Johnson knew exactly what he was talking about when +he said that "envy is almost the only vice which is practicable at all +times and in every place." Rebecca Mary did find it so very very easy to +be envious. About the only person she did not envy that afternoon was a +short, stout, middle-aged man with a red face, who sat at a table by +himself and consumed vast quantities of hot buttered toast. + +Rebecca Mary had never imagined there were so many gay, light-hearted +people in the world as there were in the Viking room that May afternoon +and more would have entered if it had not been for the silken barrier +which was held in front of the door by two very haughty waiters. Rebecca +Mary felt blue and depressed to the very toes of her common-sense +little shoes. She felt so hopelessly out of the gay and brilliant +picture. She almost wished that Cousin Susan had not asked her to the +Waloo for tea. + +"Which shall we have, Rebecca Mary?" Cousin Susan found herself quite +incapable of making such a momentous decision without assistance. +"Lettuce or _foie gras_." + +Rebecca Mary did not hesitate a second. She knew. "_Foie gras_," she +said promptly. "I've never tasted them, and I've made hundreds of +lettuce sandwiches, just thousands of them. What is the use of going to +new places if you don't try new things?" There was just a trace of +impatience in her low voice as if she thought that Cousin Susan should +have known that without being told. + +"H-m," murmured Cousin Susan. "The _foie gras_, then. They certainly +sound mysterious and adventurous." And having given her order, Cousin +Susan looked about her. "Isn't this an attractive place? I've read in +the Gazette about the afternoon teas in the Viking room and how popular +they were. I suppose all these people are very rich and important. None +of them will pay for tea with kitchen curtains." And Cousin Susan's eyes +twinkled. + +Rebecca Mary's eyes twinkled, too, although really there was nothing +very amusing to her in paying for tea with ten yards of any kind of +material. It was rather sordid to her and poor and generally horrid, +like her very existence. + +Cousin Susan looked at her frowning little face and fingered the silver +in front of her with hands which although well cared for showed that +they were more for use than ornament. Cousin Susan's hands exactly +illustrated Cousin Susan's heart, which was so big and generous and +helpful that the hands were often overworked. As she looked at Rebecca +Mary Cousin Susan took a sudden determination and followed an impulse, +which was nothing new for her, and which sometimes brought her great +satisfaction and sometimes nothing but dissatisfaction. + +"Don't frown like that, Rebecca Mary," she commanded like a general +speaking to a very small private. "It is a lot easier to put a wrinkle +in your forehead than it is to get one out as you'll learn some day. And +while we are on the subject of your looks I'm going to take an old +cousin's privilege and tell you what I think of you. It's a shame to do +it here," she acknowledged ruefully, "but if I take the six-twenty train +I shan't have another chance. You know," she went on in a firm low +voice, "I don't like the way you live, and your mother wouldn't like it +if she knew. Why, you don't get a thing out of your life, Rebecca Mary, +not a thing!" + +"I don't see what I can do," murmured Rebecca Mary with a twist of her +shoulders and a rebellious flash in her gray eyes. "You needn't think I +like my life, Cousin Susan. It isn't one I should ever choose. I should +say not! But I try to make the best of it." + +"But you don't make the best of it. That is just the point. You make +such a horrid worst of it. Yes, you do!" as Rebecca Mary indignantly +declared that she didn't. "Listen. I've watched you and I never imagined +a girl could detach herself from life, real life, as you have done. You +haven't any friends, you don't go anywhere but to school, you don't do +anything but teach the third grade in the Lincoln school." + +At that Rebecca Mary did interrupt and there was a bright red spot on +each of her cheeks, like a poppy in a bed of lilies. "It costs money to +have a share in real life," she said in a suppressed voice which made +you think how very thin the crust of earth around a volcano must be. +"And I haven't any money. You know how awfully little we have and how +much it costs to live now. I have to send something home every month and +there are always taxes and insurance. And I have to provide for my old +age! You have no idea what a nightmare that is," tragically. "I wake up +in the night thinking what will happen when I'm too old to teach. +It's--it's ghastly!" It was so ghastly that she shivered, and the +poppies left her face so that it was just a field of white lilies. + +"You are thinking entirely too much of your old age. You are robbing +your youth for it. It is perfectly ridiculous for you to make such a +nightmare of the future. I know it isn't entirely your fault. Your +mother is rabid on the subject. She has brought you and Grace up to +think of old age as a blood-thirsty old beast who has to be fed with +youth. Yes, I know all about your Aunt Agnes and your second Cousin +Lucy. But, my dear, they could have saved and saved and their money +might have been lost just when they needed it. You can't be sure of +keeping money no matter how you save it. That's why I spend mine." She +looked at the dainty expensive sandwiches the waiter placed before her +and laughed. "It's gospel truth, my dear," she went on soberly, "that +the only thing you can be sure of taking into the future is what you can +remember, the memory of the good times you have had, the people you have +met, the places you have seen, the books you have read, the music you +have heard. Don't you know that youth should enjoy things for old age +to remember? And take it from me, Rebecca Mary, that the old find their +greatest pleasure in recalling their youth. Will you have cream or lemon +in your tea? Lemon always seems more like a party to me." + +Rebecca Mary took the lemon while a puzzled frown appeared between her +two eyebrows. "It isn't that I don't like my work, Cousin Susan," she +said slowly, "for I do. I love children, and I love to teach. If I had a +million I should want to teach somewhere, in a settlement or a mission, +you know. But I'll admit that the future does scare me blue. Suppose I +should be ill, suppose----" + +"Suppose fiddlesticks!" Cousin Susan broke in impatiently. + +"It's all very well for you to talk. You have some one to take care of +you, a husband, and----" + +"My dear, you can't guarantee a husband any more than you can a savings +account. Women are left penniless widows every day. Don't misunderstand +me, Rebecca Mary. I believe in a certain amount of saving, but I don't +believe in sacrificing everything in the present to a future you may +never have. How do you know you will live to grow old? How do you know +that a grateful pupil won't leave you an income?--that has happened if +you can believe the newspapers. How do you know that you won't make +your own fortune in some marvelous way? That's the loveliest part of +life, Rebecca Mary. You don't know what is waiting for you around the +corner so you might as well expect riches as poverty; better in my +opinion. I'd always rather look forward to a fried chicken than a soup +bone hashed." + +Rebecca Mary had to giggle when Cousin Susan suggested that a grateful +pupil might leave her an income. That was even more improbable than that +she would make a fortune for herself. + +"Cousin Susan," she giggled scornfully, "You are a perfect silly!" + +"That may be," admitted Cousin Susan, "but I'm telling you good solid +sense. A proper amount of pleasure is as necessary to the real +development of human beings as bread or boots. Every one admits that +now. And you're not getting a proper amount, my dear. You aren't getting +any! Why, you aren't living, you only breathe, and life is more than +breathing. You are naturally impulsive. Can't you let yourself enjoy +life instead of fear it? Yes, you are afraid of it. I've watched you. +And from what you say I imagine that your room-mate was just another +like you. I'm glad she has gone home. And your clothes are a scandal. +How many years have you worn that suit?" + +Rebecca Mary's face turned a bright crimson to match the red-hot +indignation inside of her. How dared Cousin Susan talk to her like that? +She was doing the best she could. She shouldn't tell Cousin Susan how +old her blue serge was. It was none of Cousin Susan's business. + +"You wouldn't feel so shut out of the world if you looked like other +people and went where other people go. I don't suppose you speak an +unprofessional word all day," went on Cousin Susan with growing +indignation at what she considered the waste of a perfectly good girl. +"It's a crime, Rebecca Mary Wyman! A crime! And you needn't boast about +your old age provision when you haven't the brains to make a sensible +one. I'm as poor as a church mouse myself. Your Cousin Howard will never +make more than a decent living, and we have two children to feed and +clothe and educate. I hadn't any more business to come here for tea than +I would have to go to the Zoo and buy a baboon for a parlor ornament. +But if I don't do something occasionally to make a day stand out, +something that it is a pleasure to remember, I never should be able to +keep on patching Elsie's petticoats, and darning Kittie's stockings. I +know,--I know!--Rebecca Mary, that when you are young you live in the +future, and when you are old you live in the past. Some one has said +that memories are the only real fountain of youth. And that's true. A +girl is young such a short time that she has to cram the days full if +she wants to be sure of a happy old age. I can't imagine anything more +awful than to have no good times to remember. And all pleasures aren't +like the tea here. Such a lot of them can be had for nothing. You can +get such fun just out of companionship, and the world is full of people +with whom we were meant to be friends. Why, life now means helping other +people to have a good time instead of moping off by yourself. You should +know that, Rebecca Mary. I know I sound like a sermon, but it is all so +true. You must not turn your back to people and hide in a corner. You +must face the world and take what you can and give what you can. I wish +you would promise me something?" she asked eagerly. + +Rebecca Mary didn't look as if she would promise any one anything, but +she asked politely: "What would you like me to promise, Cousin Susan?" + +"Just to say 'Yes, thank you' instead of 'No, I can't possibly,' when +you are asked to do something or go somewhere," begged Cousin Susan, +refusing to be discouraged by the scornful toss of Rebecca Mary's head. +"Please, Rebecca Mary! You talk so much about insurance and that sort of +thing that I'm going to ask you to take out some,"--she hesitated and +then laughed,--"memory insurance. We can't all hope to be money rich +when we are old, but we can all plan to be memory rich. Please promise?" + +Rebecca Mary put her violets on the table and stared at her. "Your tea +is getting cold, Cousin Susan," she said stiffly. She shouldn't promise +anything so foolish. Cousin Susan was the most irresponsible old silly, +but Rebecca Mary couldn't be irresponsible. There was too much dependent +upon her. She drank her own tea and ate her sandwiches and even had a +bit of French pastry when Cousin Susan said she was going to try some +even if it did mean going without the new magazine she had planned to +buy to read on the way home. + +"I can make the evening paper last longer," she said as she hesitated +between a strawberry tart and a cream-filled cornet. "I've read about +French pastry for years, but we don't have it in Mifflin, and I never +had a chance to taste it before. Isn't it good?" + +Rebecca Mary said it was good, but inwardly she sniffed again and tried +to think that it was ridiculous for a woman of Cousin Susan's age to +become hysterical over a piece of pie. She could not understand Cousin +Susan's enjoyment of little things. She never would have dared to spend +her kitchen curtains and new magazine for tea and French pastry. It +would have been too foolishly extravagant. But she had enjoyed her tea. +And it was exhilarating to be a part, even a shabby part, of a world she +had never penetrated before and never would again, she thought +mournfully. That was the trouble with pleasant experiences, they came +all too seldom and were over far too soon. But Cousin Susan had said +when you had had a pleasant experience once you had it for ever. Perhaps +there was something in that thought. Rebecca Mary evidently thought +there was for her eyes were like stars as, with the violets pinned to +her shabby coat, she followed Cousin Susan from the room. + +She found herself in a crush at the door. Beside her was young Peter +Simmons. Rebecca Mary thrilled as he brushed against her arm. + +"Beg your pardon," he murmured absently, but he never looked at her. + +It made Rebecca Mary so furious to be so coolly ignored that she did not +see that Joan Befort and her father pushed by her and that close on +their heels were Mrs. Simmons and the man who looked as if he would do +things. The chattering laughing throng pressed closer. A hand even +touched Rebecca Mary's fingers. She drew them away with a shrug of her +shoulders. She did hate to be jostled. + +"My dear, I must fly!" exclaimed Cousin Susan when they had emerged a +trifle breathless from the crowd. "But first give me that promise? +Please, Rebecca Mary! What is that in your hand?" she broke off to ask +suddenly, for something green hung from Rebecca Mary's worn brown glove. + +"Why--why----" stammered Rebecca Mary as she opened her hand and found, +of all things, a four-leaf clover. She stared from it to Cousin Susan. + +"Where did you get that?" Like Rebecca Mary, Cousin Susan scanned the +faces hurrying by. Not one of them looked as if it belonged to a person +who would thrust a four-leaf clover into the fingers of a girl in a +shabby blue serge. Four-leaf clovers had been no part of the table +decorations. They never are. They belong in meadows and are only found +by patient seekers. Even Rebecca Mary had to admit that it was odd and +that it gave her a strange shivery sort of a feeling. + +"My, but I'm glad I didn't buy curtains!" Cousin Susan was enchanted +with the mystery. "You simply will have to give me that promise now, +Rebecca Mary. You are sure to have adventures if you do. There's the +sign." She pointed to the crumpled clover leaf. "There's magic in it!" +she whispered. Really, Cousin Susan was a silly. + +"I wonder!" Rebecca Mary looked at the talisman. Where could it have +come from? Perhaps there was magic in it. There must have been, for +suddenly Rebecca Mary laughed softly. She straightened her shoulders and +looked into Cousin Susan's kind blue eyes. "Yes, Cousin Susan," she said +swiftly, as if the spell of the clover leaf might be broken if she +didn't speak in a hurry, "I promise to say 'Yes, thank you' instead of +'No, I can't possibly.'" + +And then before Cousin Susan could say how glad she was, right there on +the crowded avenue, Rebecca Mary put her arm around Cousin Susan and +hugged her. + +"I haven't been a bit nice this afternoon," she confessed frankly and +with considerable regret. "I've been horrid, but it was because I did +feel so out of place. But I do love you and--and I shall try and be more +decent to people. And if you really want me to take one of your old +memory insurance policies," she giggled as she thought of Cousin Susan +as an insurance agent, "why, of course I shall. Perhaps--" she looked +down at the mysterious clover leaf, and her eyes crinkled--"perhaps this +might make a first payment." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Rebecca Mary walked home on air. If she didn't hippity-hop outside, she +did inside. She held her head high, and her gray eyes were almost black +with excitement. A delightful mystery tingled through her. Usually when +Rebecca Mary walked home from down town she had to wonder whether she +might have bought her gloves cheaper if she had gone to the Big Store or +if the shoes at Ballok's were better for the money. But as she walked +swiftly home from the Waloo that May afternoon she never once remembered +what might have been saved. She had pleasanter things than saving to +think of. + +I doubt very much if Rebecca Mary would have kept her promise to Cousin +Susan if it had not been for that mysterious four-leaf clover. Not that +Rebecca Mary was the sort of girl to regard a promise as a new laid egg, +easily broken, for she wasn't. When Rebecca Mary made a promise it was +generally as solid and unbreakable as a block of concrete. But she did +think that Cousin Susan was such a sentimental old silly, and anyway her +old age could never be Cousin Susan's old age and consequently it +didn't really matter a copper cent to Cousin Susan how poor and +dependent Rebecca Mary was when she was fifty. Rebecca Mary shuddered at +the mere thought of being fifty. Looking back, she saw a long stretch of +yesterdays, an awful gray and uninteresting distance, and if she didn't +wish to have it fifty years long, fifty times three hundred and +sixty-five stupid gray days, why, really it was time to do something, as +Cousin Susan had said, to introduce another color. The four-leaf clover +presented quite a touch of another color, and the bright green was as +puzzling as it was brightening for it never hinted in any curve or +crumple where it came from. + +But some one must have deliberately thrust it into her hand. It never +could have reached her fingers by any kind of an accident. And who was +the thruster? How Rebecca Mary would like to have that question answered +in the way she imagined it might be answered! She wanted to be told in +short convincing words that young Peter Simmons had given her the +talisman, but Common Sense jumped to her shoulder and whispered in her +ear that that was not only ridiculous, it was impossible. Impossible may +be, as Mirabeau insisted, a stupid word, and yet it is a word which +quite frequently stands like a stone wall in front of people. Rebecca +Mary did not need Common Sense to tell her that young aviator heroes do +not carry four-leaf clovers carelessly in their pockets. But then who +does in a town like Waloo where patches of four-leaf clovers are as +scarce as paving stones are plenty? It was curious and irritating and +altogether amazingly delightful. Rebecca Mary scarcely thought of the +third grade of the Lincoln school that evening, and she most certainly +did not dream of the third grade of the Lincoln school that night. + +You can easily imagine how disappointed Rebecca Mary was when she +received the first invitation to which she was to say "Yes, thank you," +instead of the "I can't possibly" which had always slipped so +automatically over her lips. By all the rules of romance she had every +right to expect that it would be to some gathering which would bring her +at least in sight of young Peter Simmons, and so when Olga Klavachek +begged her to come and see their new baby she did have to make an effort +to keep the old negative phrase from popping out of her mouth, for what +on earth would she get for her old age meditation, what memory +insurance, Cousin Susan had called it, at Klavachek's? + +But she had promised Cousin Susan so she let Olga take her hand and went +to see the new baby. Mrs. Klavachek was as round-faced and as plump as +Olga, and although she spoke no English, and Rebecca Mary spoke no +Slavic, they managed to understand each other very well. A baby is a +baby and even a baby tied in a big feather pillow cannot be mistaken for +a new hat or a new arm chair. The Klavachek baby was as round as a +butter ball and had eyes like bright brown beads. Rebecca Mary could +honestly admire him, and Mrs. Klavachek beamed on "Olga's teacher lady." + +Besides the new baby Olga showed Rebecca Mary her mother's new shoes and +her father's new boots and the wonderful earrings her mother had brought +from Serbia and the new broom she had bought up on Poplar Avenue and the +flag her papa had got off the place where he worked, the Peter Simmons +Factory, and the calendar which the butcher had given her and the +picture of George Washington which she had begged from the grocer +because George Washington was her father now that she was an American +and George Washington was the father of America. + +At last Olga had nothing more to show, and while she tried to think of +some other way to entertain and surprise "teacher" Rebecca Mary told +Mrs. Klavachek again what a dear roly-poly baby she had, and Mrs. +Klavachek caught Rebecca Mary's hand and said in her best Slavic that +she would never forget her from-heavenly-goodness to Olga, and she +kissed Rebecca Mary's fingers with warm grateful lips. No one had ever +kissed Rebecca Mary's hand before, and the caress gave her an odd +sensation quite as if she were a feudal lady with castles and steel +uniformed retainers. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin +and looked like a feudal lady as she said good-by to the Klavacheks and +went up the street, a smile on her lips, a laugh in her eyes. She never +would forget how funny the Klavachek baby had looked tied up in the big +feather pillow. + +She turned down Poplar Avenue where the broom had lived before it moved +to the Klavachek kitchen and waited for her street car, thanking +goodness that she was not Mrs. Klavachek. She would rather be a shabby +worked-to-death teacher with a threatening old age which shows that she +had already benefited from social intercourse. It so often makes one +more satisfied with one's own lot to take a look at the lot of some one +else. Rebecca Mary was still thanking goodness when a limousine drew up +beside her. She stepped back as if she thought it intended to run right +over her. + +"I beg your pardon," called a soft voice through the open window. "But +can you tell me where River Street is?" The owner of the soft voice must +have thought that Rebecca Mary was a settlement worker or an Associated +Charities visitor and so would know where any street was. "I am looking +for a family by the name of Klavachek." + +"Why, I've just come from Klavacheks'!" exclaimed Rebecca Mary. She +could scarcely believe that it was the ungrandmotherly grandmother of +the Waloo tea room who was leaning forward to speak to her. +Involuntarily she looked for young Peter Simmons, but unless he had been +transformed into a card board box he was not in that limousine. + +"Then you can tell me exactly how to find them. I understand there is a +new baby, and I am taking Mrs. Klavachek a few things. Mr. Klavachek +works for my husband at the Peter Simmons Factory," she explained as if +she could read the question which darted into Rebecca Mary's mind. "I am +interested in all the new babies that come to our men." + +Rebecca Mary looked at the few things. They filled the seat, and Mrs. +Simmons had the grace to blush. + +"I hope you are not a settlement worker who will scold me for +indiscriminate giving? Perhaps it is dreadful, but it is good for me, +and really I don't believe that it could be bad for Mrs. Klavachek. It +can't be bad for a woman in a strange country to know that another woman +is interested in her, can it?" + +"Indeed, it can't!" exclaimed Rebecca Mary, as if she knew anything +about it. "It would be splendid for any woman to think that you were +interested in her!" she added impulsively as she looked into the sweet +old face of Mrs. Peter Simmons. And she explained that if the limousine +would turn the corner and go two blocks and stop at the little purple +house it would surely find Mrs. Klavachek and her new baby. "The new +baby is a love!" Rebecca Mary's eyes crinkled as she told how dear the +new baby had looked tied in a big feather pillow. + +"Thank you so much." Mrs. Simmons seemed very grateful for the careful +direction. "Didn't I see you at the Waloo the other afternoon?" she +asked suddenly. "Didn't you love that new fox trot?" She smiled as she +drove away before Rebecca Mary could say whether she did or didn't love +the new fox trot. + +Rebecca Mary had time to gaze after her before a long yellow street car +came and picked her up, and she thought again how very ungrandmotherly +Mrs. Peter Simmons was with her twinkling face and her love of new fox +trots. The grandmothers Rebecca Mary knew were staid, sedate women with +aprons and knitting. + +The second invitation to which Rebecca Mary had an opportunity to say +"Yes, thank you" came the very next evening when one of the teachers in +the Lincoln school offered her a ticket to a travel talk in an +auditorium not three blocks from Rebecca Mary's "one room, kitchenette +and bath." There must have been seven or eight hundred people there so +that Rebecca Mary might be excused for looking for--old Mrs. Simmons, +she told herself. But Mrs. Simmons was not there so far as Rebecca Mary +could see, neither was her grandson. They were not at the school social, +which was Rebecca Mary's next festal affair, nor at the concert to which +she went with a woman who lived in the next apartment, and who was +scared to death to go out after dark alone. Rebecca Mary began to lose +faith in the crumpled clover leaf which she had put in an old locket and +carried in her pocket, and no wonder. A talisman which was worth its +salt should have brought better luck. + +It was not as easy for Rebecca Mary to change the point of view which +she had carefully cultivated for so many years as it would have been for +her to change a blouse. There were many times when it seemed as if she +just couldn't say "Yes, thank you." It would have been so much easier if +she could have wrapped her old point of view in brown paper and carried +it to a clerk at Bullok's or the Big Store and explained that it didn't +fit at all, that it was far too narrow and too tight, and she should +like to exchange it for one that was much larger and broader and which +had some mystery in its frills. It seemed such bad management on the +part of some one that there wasn't an exchange department for points of +view at one of the big stores. But as there wasn't she did her best, and +she had to see that the second time was easier than the first and the +third time was easier than the second. + +"If I live to be a hundred," she told herself a little impatiently one +day, "I shall probably say 'Yes, thank you' mechanically. But by that +time I won't care what I say, and no one else will care. Oh, dear, I +almost wish Cousin Susan hadn't taken me to the Waloo for tea that day +and stirred me all up. What's the use of thinking about things I can't +ever have?" + +And then because Cousin Susan had stirred her all up she threw out her +little chin and clicked her white teeth together and murmured that she +would have the things she thought about, yes, she would! She wouldn't be +all stirred up for nothing. She just would have some good times to +remember when she was an old woman and had nothing to do but remember +the past. + +In her eagerness to find the good times she forgot to frown and to +scowl. Even the walk to school became interesting when she thought that +romance might lurk around the corner, and as Rebecca Mary bravely +struggled to forget her cares and see only her opportunities she began +to look more like a real live girl, a girl who might have adventures. +The sullen frown left her face, indeed, a little smile often tilted the +corners of her lips as she let her imagination run riot. There was a new +spring in her step because there was a new hope in her heart. Perhaps +the four-leaf clover would bring something into her life besides taxes +and insurance premiums. + +At the Lincoln school where Rebecca Mary taught the third grade the +principal believed firmly in a close relation between the home and the +school, and to bring about this closer relation each teacher was +expected to visit the family of each pupil at least once a term. Rebecca +Mary was appalled when she discovered that it was the next to the last +week of the term and she remembered how many calls she owed. While she +was making out a list to be paid that very afternoon the principal came +in to tell her that an urgent telephone message had just asked Joan +Befort's teacher to come to Beforts' as soon as she possibly could. + +"I said you would be down at once," went on Miss Weir. "Was Joan at +school to-day?" + +No, Rebecca Mary remembered that Joan hadn't been at school either that +morning or that afternoon. + +"Probably measles or mumps," prophesied Miss Weir, who had been made +wise by years of experience. "Foreigners are so helpless at times. You +will have to explain that the quarantine laws must be obeyed. What do +you know about the Beforts?" + +Rebecca Mary blushed, for when Miss Weir asked her she discovered that +she knew very very little about the Beforts. + +"Joan's mother is dead, and she and her father live with an old woman +who keeps house for them." Rebecca Mary tried her best to make a +complete garment out of her very small pattern. "Joan is devoted to her +father. He took her to the Waloo for tea the other afternoon. It was +Joan's birthday, and she gave me the violets her father had given her." +Rebecca Mary's chin tilted a bit as she told her principal that she, +too, had been at the popular Waloo for tea. "Joan is an odd child, +different from the others. It isn't only that she is a foreigner, +you know she has only been in this country a short time, and she +has picked up a very American way of expressing herself, but +underneath--underneath--" she floundered helplessly. + +"Yes?" Miss Weir waited for her to explain that "underneath," and when +Rebecca Mary just stammered on she said gently, but, oh, so firmly: +"That is why I ask you to visit the homes, so that you can understand +the 'underneath.'" + +"Yes," murmured Rebecca Mary meekly, but when Miss Weir had gone with +Disapproval shouting, "Fie, fie, Rebecca Mary Wyman," from her unbending +back Rebecca Mary was anything but meek. She stamped her foot and threw +a book on the floor and murmured rebelliously that the days would have +to be three times as long as they were if she were to get "underneath" +the forty children in her room. + +She found the house, a modest frame cottage, in a block which held only +one other house. Joan was sitting on the steps, and she looked very +small and very forlorn until she saw Rebecca Mary. She jumped to her +feet and stood waiting, her arms full of what Rebecca Mary naturally +thought were playthings. She wore her hat and had a suit case on the +steps beside her. + +"Oh dear Miss Wyman!" she called joyously. "I thought you'd never come. +Mrs. Lee, over there," she nodded toward the next house, "said you +couldn't be here a minute before half-past three." She looked at the +small silver clock which was one of the things she held and shook it for +the clock said plainly that in its opinion it was a quarter to four. +"This must be an ignorant clock," she decided with a frown, "for I know +you wouldn't wait a minute when you knew I wanted you. It doesn't matter +now, and I'm to tell you that I'm to be your little girl!" She was quite +enchanted by the prospect, and she expected Rebecca Mary to be +enchanted, too. + +"My goodness gracious!" And Rebecca Mary frowned. Old habits are hard to +break. "What do you mean, Joan?" + +Joan was only too ready to explain. "You see my father has gone away for +a long long time, we don't know how long, and Mrs. Muldoon, who keeps +our house for us, has gone, too. She said I was to stay with you until +she came back because at Mrs. Lee's they have scarlet fever upstairs and +the mumps downstairs." Rebecca Mary could see for herself that Mrs. Lee +had scarlet fever. A card on the house was actually red in the face with +its efforts to tell her that Mrs. Lee had scarlet fever. "Mrs. Muldoon +said she guessed my teacher was an all right person to leave me with, +and so she's loaned me to you. Yes, she has!" as Rebecca Mary seemed +unable to believe it. "I'm loaned to you until my father or Mrs. Muldoon +comes home again. Aren't you glad?" Her lip quivered for Rebecca Mary +looked anything but glad. + +Rebecca Mary couldn't say she was glad, either. She seemed to have lost +her tongue for she just stood there and looked down at black-haired, +black-eyed Joan and wondered what in the world she would do if Joan's +absurd story was true. + +"Are you Joan's teacher?" called Mrs. Lee from next door. "Mrs. Muldoon +was sure that you would look after Joan while she was away. Her son in +Kansas City is sick. She went as soon as she got the telegram, and she +said she didn't know a living soul who would look after Joan until she +thought of you. I'd be glad to take her in here if the health officer +would let me. If you can't look after her I suppose the Associated +Charities could find some one," she suggested. + +"Oh, no!" exclaimed Rebecca Mary. Joan did not seem at all like an +Associated Charities case. Bewildered as Rebecca Mary was she could see +that. + +"That's what I thought, and Mrs. Muldoon thought so, too. Mr. Befort is +away on business she said. They're nice people, used to much better +days, I'd say. You won't have a mite of trouble with Joan." + +"Not a mite!" promised Joan, winking fast to keep the tears in her black +eyes. It wasn't pleasant to be loaned to a teacher who didn't want to +borrow. "I'll be so good you'll never know I'm there!" + +"Shan't I?" Rebecca Mary visualized the tiny apartment she had shared +with a fellow teacher until Miss Stimson had been called home by the +illness of her mother. At first Rebecca Mary had liked to be alone, but +even before Cousin Susan talked to her as only a relative can talk to +one, she had wished for a companion, not an eight-year-old companion she +thought quickly as she looked at Joan. Goodness knows, she had enough of +children during school hours. But what could she do? Plainly Mrs. Lee +and Joan expected her to take Joan home and keep her indefinitely. It +was absurd. But if she didn't take her there was only the Associated +Charities. + +A little hand clutched her arm. "You aren't h-happy because I-I'm loaned +to you," faltered a trembling little voice. + +Rebecca Mary was almost unkind enough to say she wasn't and to ask how +she could be, but the sob in Joan's voice made her ashamed of herself +and her frown. She dropped down on the top step and put her arms around +Joan and her clock and a framed picture and a potato masher which she +discovered made the odd collection in Joan's arms. The potato masher hit +her nose and she frowned again. + +Joan leaned against her with a tired sigh. "It's--it's very hard when no +one wants you," she hiccoughed. + +Rebecca Mary knew just how hard it was, but she didn't say so. Her back +was toward the street so that she did not see a limousine coming toward +them. It stopped in front of the cottage, and if it hadn't been for the +four-leaf clover in her pocket Rebecca Mary would have been very much +surprised to hear Mrs. Peter Simmons' voice. + +"Does Mr. Frederick Befort live here? Upon my word!" as Rebecca Mary +jumped up and faced her. "I wondered if we should meet again. Mr. Befort +is one of the men at the factory so I have come to get acquainted with +his family," she explained with a friendly smile. + +"That's me!" Joan was on her toes with importance. "I'm all the family +Mr. Frederick Befort has, but I'm loaned to Miss Wyman!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Fifteen minutes later Rebecca Mary and Joan with Joan's suit case and +the picture and the clock and the potato masher were driving away with +Mrs. Simmons, while Mrs. Lee waved her apron and promised to let them +know the very first minute that Mr. Befort or Mrs. Muldoon returned. + +"This is the picture of my very own father and my very own mother," Joan +explained as she showed Mrs. Simmons and Rebecca Mary the photograph of +a man in a very gorgeous uniform and with an order on his breast +standing beside a beautiful young woman in a smart evening gown, a long +string of pearls about her neck. There was a coat of arms emblazoned on +the silver frame, and Mrs. Simmons touched it with her fingers to call +Rebecca Mary's attention to the splendor of it. + +"This clock was my mother's, too," Joan chattered on. "And I've wound it +myself every night since she went away so I had to bring it with me, and +this," she looked at the potato masher doubtfully. "I don't know why I +like it, but I do." + +"Then I'm glad you brought it with you." Mrs. Simmons patted the small +fingers which clutched the wooden potato masher and wondered if the +pictured father was dressed for a costume ball or if his every-day +clothes were so gorgeous. "Did you ever see her father?" she asked +Rebecca Mary. + +Rebecca Mary quite forgot the brief glimpse she had had of Mr. Befort's +back as he was leaving the Viking room with Joan. "Never!" she exclaimed +with an emphasis which made Mrs. Simmons laugh. It sounded so fierce, as +though if Rebecca Mary ever had seen Mr. Befort she would have told him +a thing or two. + +"He has only been at the factory for a few months," Mrs. Simmons +explained. "We'll stop at my house and telephone to the office. It will +be interesting to hear where he has gone and why he has gone." + +But when they stopped at Mrs. Simmons' house, a big sprawling mansion of +brick and plaster and brown timbers, and telephoned to the office all +they learned was that Frederick Befort had gone away on special business +and could not be reached by any one--not by any one at all. + +"Well, upon my word!" Mrs. Simmons was quite taken aback by the decisive +answer from the office. "I've half a mind to show that man that I can +reach Frederick Befort if I want to. It's ridiculous, perfectly +ridiculous, to think that any business is more important than his child. +What will you do?" she asked Rebecca Mary. + +"I suppose I shall have to keep her until her father comes back," sighed +Rebecca Mary. "I really can't turn her over to the Associated Charities, +but it seems to me that a good deal is expected of a teacher." + +"She might stay here," suggested Mrs. Simmons. "One of my maids could +look after her. How would you like that?" she asked Joan, who stood +beside her. + +"It would be like home." Joan looked about the big spacious rooms with +their rich rugs and hangings, the attractive furnishings and beautiful +pictures. "Our old home, I mean. But I wasn't loaned to you. I was--I +was loaned to Miss Wyman." Her lips quivered and tears hung perilously +near the edge of each black eye. + +"So you were, honey." Suddenly Rebecca Mary realized that a great deal +was being expected of Joan, too, and she hugged her. She felt almost as +sorry for Joan as she did for herself. It couldn't be pleasant to be +left on the door step with a picture and a clock and a potato masher. +"It's ever so kind of you, Mrs. Simmons, but we'll manage some way." + +"I'm sure she wouldn't bother me as much as she will you, and I have an +obligation toward her as long as her father works for my husband. Don't +go yet," as Rebecca Mary rose and took Joan's hand. "We'll have a cup of +tea, and then I'll take you home in the car." + +"I like to ride in cars," dimpled Joan, all smiles again. "I always used +to." + +Over her head Mrs. Simmons looked at Rebecca Mary and raised her +eyebrows questioningly, but Rebecca Mary could only shake her head. +Rebecca Mary began to see that there might be something in her +principal's wish to have her teachers know more of their pupils than +their ability to read and cipher. There was such a lot more about Joan +that Rebecca Mary would like to have known that very minute. + +"Where was your old home, my dear?" Mrs. Simmons did not hesitate to ask +for any information she wished to have. + +"Over the sea--at Echternach." Joan turned an eager face toward her, +quite willing to talk of that old home where she had lived with her +daddy and her mother until she had come to the United States with her +mother. Her mother had died suddenly, leaving Joan with a grandmother +who had lived only long enough to give the little girl back to her +father when he came a year later. And as she chattered Mrs. Simmons and +Rebecca Mary looked at the coat of arms on the silver frame and at the +photograph of the gorgeously uniformed man and the beautiful woman. + +"Tell me about your father?" Mrs. Simmons asked as soon as she could +slip a word in edgeways. + +Joan looked up, a trifle puzzled by the question. "Daddy?" she repeated. +"Why, he's just--daddy. He's like--well, his eyes always look at me so +lovingly and his mouth talks to me so sweetly and his ears hear +everything I say and his hands work for me and his feet bring him to +me." She kept her eyes on the photograph to make sure she left nothing +out. "That's my daddy!" she finished triumphantly, and she looked up as +if she dared them to find fault with such a daddy. + +Mrs. Simmons patted her shoulder, and Rebecca Mary hugged her. + +"That's a very good working description of a daddy," smiled Mrs. +Simmons. "And here is Sako with the tea." + +When the Japanese butler had placed the tray on the low table beside +Mrs. Simmons, Joan handed cups and passed sandwiches quite as if she +were accustomed to that pleasant task. + +"I'm consumed with curiosity," Mrs. Simmons whispered to Rebecca Mary. +"She is a most unusual child. You must tell me anything you learn about +her. Echternach sounds German, doesn't it? And although the war is over +and we're told we are to forgive our enemies, I can't quite forgive the +Germans for all the dreadful things they did. Nor the Turks. Of course +the children aren't to be blamed, but--That's my grandson," she told +Joan, who was looking at a large framed photograph on the table. "Young +Peter Simmons, and I'm sinfully proud of him. He was my first +grandchild, and even when he was a fat bald-headed baby I knew that some +day he would do wonderful things. I suppose all grandmothers think that, +just as all mothers do. But I really didn't think Peter would do as +wonderful things as he has," she went on more to Rebecca Mary than to +Joan. "You know he has a _croix de guerre_?" She drew a quick breath and +looked at Rebecca Mary with a smile which was not at all a laughing +smile. "I'm apt to be a bit foolish when I talk of young Peter Simmons," +she admitted as she wiped her eyes. + +"I don't wonder!" Rebecca Mary drew a quick breath, too. "I should think +you would be proud!" She knew she should be proud if young Peter +Simmons belonged to her. She didn't care if he had scowled at her. + +"My daddy has one of those." Joan's pink finger pointed to the cross on +young Peter Simmons' tunic. "Only his is an eagle." She showed it to +them on her pictured father. "He doesn't wear it every day." + +"Neither does my Peter," complained Peter's grandmother. "Listen! +Doesn't that sound like Peter now?" For a car had stopped before the +house, and there was a rush of young feet and a chatter of young +tongues. "Don't you hope it is?" + +Rebecca Mary must have hoped it was for she turned a deep crimson, and +when young Peter Simmons did actually come in she gazed at him as if he +were the most wonderful, the most amazing, man in the world. Rebecca +Mary had never met a hero before and although Peter looked like any +young man of twenty-three, big and brave and jolly, she knew that he was +a hero and that the French government had given him a cross to prove +that he was a hero. No wonder she drew a quick breath and that her eyes +were full of awe as she looked at him. She quite forgot that once he had +scowled at her, and she had scowled at him. + +Peter was not alone, and Rebecca Mary and Joan were introduced to Doris +Kilbourne and Martha Farnsworth and Stanley Cabot. The girls rushed +across the room to kiss Granny Simmons and tell her about their golf at +the Country Club and to ask her if Peter wasn't a perfect brute to beat +them. + +And Peter chuckled. "You must expect to be beaten," he told them in a +lordly manner. "Golf is no game for a girl, is it, Miss Wyman?" + +Rebecca Mary colored to have him appeal to her, and she stammered a bit +as she answered. "I thought it was a game for men, fat bald-headed old +men." + +The girls shrieked at that. "There, Peter Simmons! I reckon that will +hold you for a while!" + +"May we have some tea, Granny?" drawled Doris in her soft rich voice. +"Or is it all gone?" She would have peeped into the tea pot to see but +Granny kept her brown fingers in her soft white hands. + +"Is it, Miss Wyman? Do you think you can find any tea for these thirsty +children?" + +Rebecca Mary was glad to pour tea. It gave her something to do while the +others laughed and chattered of golf and tennis and the Country Club +dances and a hundred other things about which she knew nothing. Doris +and Martha wore smartly cut skirts of heavy white piqué. Doris had a +green sweater and a soft green hat and green stockings while Martha +wore purple. Rebecca Mary could scarcely decide which she liked the best +as she sat back in her low chair, her hands loosely clasped on her knee. +She wore a white skirt herself and a white blouse but they were a little +rumpled from spending the day in school. But in her white hat and +clothes and with a red rose in each cheek she had only a faint family +resemblance to the girl in the shabby blue serge who had scowled at +Peter that day in the Viking room. Peter looked at her curiously. There +was something familiar about the rosy little face, but he could not +remember where he had seen it as he refused tea and lounged back in a +chair to smoke a cigarette. + +"Hello, who's the chap in the Prussian uniform?" he asked suddenly, and +he lifted the photograph of Joan's father and mother from the table +where it lay beside the clock and the potato masher. + +"That's my father!" Joan ran across to look at the picture with him. +"And he has a medal, too." She pointed to it as she nodded at Peter. + +"So he has, a real German eagle." Peter was as astonished as she could +wish, and he lifted his eyebrows inquiringly at Granny as if he would +ask where the German eagle came from. + +"He showed it to me," Joan hinted delicately, and when Peter only +grinned, she went on not quite so delicately; "I love to see medals." + +"Joan!" Rebecca Mary was mortified to death. What would Peter think? + +"You'd like to see it, too. You told the grandmother you would," +insisted Joan. + +"Would you?" teased Peter, who had already discovered how easy it was to +make Rebecca Mary blush, and what fun it was, also. + +She blushed then, all the way from the brim of her hat to the V of her +blouse, but she had to say, "Yes, thank you." Goodness, if she had +imagined half the embarrassment her promise to Cousin Susan would cause +her she never would have made it. + +"All right, I'll show it to you, but it will be no treat to you, young +woman," he pinched Joan's cheek, "if you have a German eagle in your +family. Where is your father now?" + +"He's gone." Her eyes filled with tears, and Peter imagined that he knew +what she meant, that her father was dead, and he patted her shoulder +sympathetically. "And I'm loaned to Miss Wyman!" The tears disappeared +as she jubilantly announced what had happened. + +"I hope Miss Wyman is as pleased as you are." Peter grinned at Rebecca +Mary. + +Rebecca Mary laughed softly and said that Miss Wyman was, and she only +told the truth, for if it had not been for Joan she knew very well that +she never would be in Mrs. Peter Simmons' lovely room with young Peter +Simmons laughing at her. + +Joan had to ask him again before young Peter pulled a small box from his +pocket and showed her and Rebecca Mary the _croix de guerre_. Rebecca +Mary had never seen anything which brought such a lump into her throat +as that bronze cross on the red and green ribbon. She could not keep her +voice steady as she said: + +"How proud you must be of it!" + +"Huh," grunted young Peter, closing the box with a snap and thrusting it +back into his pocket. "It makes me feel like a sweep. Why, every man in +the section deserved a cross more than I did!" + +"The French general didn't think so!" Granny was indignant. + +"It's true!" insisted Peter, red and embarrassed. + +"Oh!" breathed Rebecca Mary. She liked to see Peter red and embarrassed. +She hadn't supposed that heroes ever were that way, but she knew that +school teachers were. + +Stanley Cabot watched her face brighten. Stanley had been an artist +before the war and now that the war was over he was an artist again, +and the vivid expression of her face held his attention. + +"She looks as if she had just wakened up," he said to himself. + +But suddenly the bright color faded from Rebecca Mary's cheeks. "We must +go home," she said quickly. "Come, Joan." + +"Not yet," begged Granny. "You can't stay? Peter, will you see if Karl +is waiting? He will drive them home. Yes, my dear," as Rebecca Mary +protested that it was not necessary, they could go home in the street +car. "You have too much luggage," she laughed as Joan gathered her +photograph and her clock and her potato masher. "The suit case is in the +car, isn't it? I hope you will come very soon again," she said +cordially, as she went into the hall with them. "I want to see more of +you and of Joan. I love young people, and I love to have them with me. +It makes me feel young. I hate to be old, but I am old, and the only way +I can cheat myself is to have young people with me. You and Joan must +come to dinner some night. Come Thursday. Perhaps we shall have heard +something from Mr. Befort by then." + +Joan, struggling with the potato masher and the clock, heard her. "My +father's name," she said quickly, "isn't Mr. Befort. It's Count Ernach +de Befort." + +"What!" exclaimed Granny, who had no idea that she had been entertaining +a young countess. + +"Joan!" cried Rebecca Mary very much surprised, indeed, to learn that a +young countess was in the third grade of the Lincoln school. + +They were so amazed that Joan flushed and her fingers flew to her guilty +lips. "Oh," she cried, "I forgot! I wasn't to tell. They don't have +counts in this country." + +"Ernach de Befort," murmured Granny in Rebecca Mary's ear. "That sounds +like a queer Franco-German combination. I'd like it better if it were +one thing or another, if it were French. Never mind, Joan," as Joan +began to whimper that she had forgotten that she wasn't to tell. "We'll +keep the secret, won't we, Miss Wyman? Do you believe her?" she +whispered to Rebecca Mary. + +Rebecca Mary shook her head. Not for a second did she believe that +Joan's father was Count Ernach de Befort. She had met the active +imagination of a child too often, and she whispered that Joan was only +playing a little game of "let's pretend" before she said good-by to +Granny and promised to come Thursday to dinner. + +Peter was waiting beside the luxurious limousine. + +"I hope I shall see you again soon, Miss Wyman," he said pleasantly, and +Rebecca Mary devoutly hoped he would, too. "Good-by, Miss Loan Child." +He grinned at Joan as she sat with her arms full of her treasures. + +"Good-by." Joan released one hand to wave it at him as they drove away. +"He's very nice, don't you think so, Miss Wyman? And awfully brave or he +wouldn't have that cross. My father is as brave as a lion, too." And she +held the photograph up so that Rebecca Mary could see how brave her +father looked. + +After Joan was tucked into Miss Stimson's abandoned bed Rebecca Mary sat +by the window in the soft darkness and recalled the astonishing events +of the day. How amazing they had been! And how jolly! She hoped she +would see Peter Simmons again, but there wasn't much chance. He didn't +go to the Lincoln school. + +She laughed softly and jumped up and went to her desk to take out the +insurance policy which was such a bugbear to her now and which was to be +such a comfort to the old age that always had loomed so blackly before +her. She read it over and then giggled as she took a sheet of paper and +wrote across the top in large letters--"The Memory Insurance Company." +And below in smaller letters she copied and adapted the form of her old +policy--"by this policy of insurance agrees to pay on demand to Rebecca +Mary Wyman such memories as she may have paid into the said company." +And below that she wrote in large letters again just one +word--"Payments." + +She pressed her fountain pen against her lips and studied that one word +before she chuckled and began to enter her payments. + +"Kitchen curtains. + +"A four-leaf clover, origin unknown. + +"One loan child of mysterious parentage. + +"A hero and his _croix de guerre_." + +What a lot there were! Why, it was only ten days since she had promised +to take out a memory insurance policy. Cousin Susan would be pleased at +the number of payments she had made on it already. Her whole face +twinkled as she read the list. A hero and a _croix de guerre_! H-m! And +that four-leaf clover! Where had it come from? That list--why, that list +represented securities that she couldn't lose and which no one could +take from her. So long as she could remember anything she would remember +Cousin Susan's kitchen curtains which never would be bought now. She +could scarcely wait to make another payment, and she felt in each of her +two hundred and eight bones that there would be other payments,--many of +them. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The very next day was Saturday so that Rebecca Mary was at home when the +postman made his first round. He brought her a letter from her mother, +and Rebecca Mary never suspected what a wonderful surprise was packed in +the square envelope. + +Mrs. Wyman's favorite aunt, a woman of some wealth and many years, had +decided to give a few of her friends the legacies she had meant to leave +them at her death so that she could hear how they were enjoyed. She had +sent Mrs. Wyman a check for five thousand dollars and a check for a +thousand dollars to each of the Wyman girls. Rebecca Mary's eyes fairly +popped from her head when she saw her check and read the letter. She +couldn't believe that it was her check. + + "I want you to spend at least a part of it on yourself," wrote Mrs. + Wyman. "You have been so splendid and unselfish in sharing + everything with us that you have earned the right to be a little + foolish with some of this money. You never expected to have it and + so we never planned to use any of it for a new roof or a kitchen + stove. Take a little trip in your vacation, dear, or buy some + other pleasure. If you put it in the bank the interest would pay + your insurance premium, but you have sacrificed so much to the + future. Perhaps I have been wrong in making so much of it for + after all you are young but once. I do want my girls to have some + good times to remember. Write Aunt Ellen a little note, and tell + her that you are going to buy a lot of pleasure which you will + remember all of your life with her generous gift." + +Rebecca Mary had to read that letter twice before she could quite +understand it, and then she looked at her loan child. + +"Joan," she exclaimed breathlessly, "let us give three rousing cheers +for a four-leaf clover!" + +And after they had given three of the rousingest sort of cheers they put +on their hats and went down to the First National Bank, where Rebecca +Mary deposited the most beautiful check that she ever hoped to see. And +there they met Stanley Cabot, who was very much pleased to see Rebecca +Mary again and who introduced her to his older brother, Richard Cabot, +who was the youngest bank vice-president that Waloo had ever had. +Rebecca Mary had never expected to know a vice-president of the First +National Bank, and as soon as she saw him her eyes changed from saucer +size to service plates, for she recognized him at once. He was the man +who had been with old Mrs. Peter Simmons that afternoon at the Waloo, +the man who had looked as if he could do things, the man who had made +her cheeks burn and her heart thump. She had never thought that already +he had done enough to make him a bank vice-president. He looked too +young. Rebecca Mary had always thought of a banker, vice-president or +president, as an old man with gray hair and plenty of figure. Richard +Cabot hadn't a gray hair in his head and he was as slim and straight as +an athlete. He seemed wonderful to Rebecca Mary, who gazed at him with a +surprise and interest which amused and flattered him. He did not +recognize her at all for she had changed her face. At the Waloo tea room +she had worn a yellow brown scowl and at the bank she had on a pink +smile. It was not strange that Richard did not recognize her until she +had agreed that it was a gorgeous day and that Mrs. Simmons was a +perfect old dear. Then it was Richard who opened his eyes wide. + +"That's it!" he exclaimed, and the puzzled look in his face was chased +away by a slight flush, which seemed rather strange to be on the face of +a banker. "I thought I had seen you before, Miss Wyman. And it was at +the Waloo the afternoon Granny took me there for tea. She would accept +no refusal although I told her that bankers had no time and little use +for tea. But I was glad I went." + +He liked Rebecca Mary's pink smile and self-conscious manner. Richard +knew any number of girls, all of those with whom he had grown up and all +the relatives and friends of the older men with whom he was associated +and who regarded him as Waloo's most promising young man, and those +girls had always met him considerably more than half way. It was +refreshing to meet a girl who blushed and hesitated over the first steps +to his acquaintance. It made him feel big and mannish and important, +which is exactly the way you like to feel if you are a man. That is why +when he met Rebecca Mary at the bank door, after she had loaned that +most beautiful check in the world to the cashier, that he said more +impulsively than he usually spoke to a girl: + +"If you have finished your banking, may I walk up the avenue with you?" + +"My banking never takes long." Rebecca Mary was all in a flutter at the +thought of walking up the avenue with Mr. Richard Cabot. Why, it would +be like taking a stroll with the ten story bank building. "I just put a +little in, and it seems to come out by itself," she explained sadly. + +The walk up the avenue was a royal progress for Richard seemed to know +every one. His hat was never on his head. Rebecca Mary was rather +tongue-tied, but Joan's tongue was not tied. Before they were out of the +bank she had told Richard that she had been loaned to Rebecca Mary and +that they were going to dinner at Mrs. Simmons' house on Thursday +evening. + +"I've never been to a party dinner in all my life," she finished with +great importance, "so I hope nothing will happen." + +"What could happen?" asked Richard with a smile for Rebecca Mary, who +gave him a shy smile in exchange. + +"Lots of things. Scarlet fever or mumps or----" + +"My goodness gracious, Joan! I hope you haven't been neighborly enough +to take mumps or scarlet fever!" The mere hint that Joan might have been +that neighborly was startling to Rebecca Mary. + +"But I'm not going to think of them because they aren't going to happen, +and there isn't any good in thinking of what never will happen, is +there?" went on Joan. + +"Not a bit," agreed Richard. "Are you going in here?" For Rebecca Mary +had stopped before the very smartest shop in Waloo. + +"We're going to buy clothes for the dinner," Joan whispered +confidentially. "My father said that ladies, even as little ladies as I +am, can't ever go anywhere without buying new clothes. He thinks it's +very strange." + +"So it is. No wonder their money won't stay in the bank. I am very glad +to have met you, Miss Wyman, and I hope to see those new clothes some +time soon." He looked straight into Rebecca Mary's gray eyes as he told +her what he hoped to do before he said good-by and went on up the +avenue. + +"Joan, you are an awful chatterbox," rebuked Rebecca Mary. + +"I only talk because my head is so full of words that they just tumble +off my tongue. Don't the words want to tumble from your tongue?" Joan +asked curiously as they went into the smartest shop. + +Rebecca Mary looked at the beautiful frocks about her. Oh, Cousin Susan +was right, and her clothes were a disgrace. They weren't clothes at all, +they were only covering. She sent a little thank you message to Aunt +Ellen by telepathy before she began that easiest of all tasks for a +woman, to spend money. + +She had an odd feeling that she was not herself as she went up Park +Terrace with Joan on Thursday evening, and she surely did not look like +her old shabby self. How could she when she wore a smart white Georgette +crepe frock under a smart beige cape and her big black hat had been +designed by a real milliner and not copied by a "make over person?" +Rebecca Mary had spent an hour with a hair dresser that afternoon after +school so that from the wave in her yellow brown hair to the sole of her +white pumps she was absolutely new. She felt as new as she looked, for +there is nothing which will take the tired discouraged feeling from a +woman, or a man either, quicker or more effectively than new clothes. +Festal garments had been found for Joan in the suit case which Mrs. +Muldoon had packed so that any one who saw Rebecca Mary and Joan walk up +Park Terrace knew at once that they were going out to dine. + +They were early, and Rebecca Mary was dreadfully mortified. It looked so +eager, so hungry, she told herself crossly, to be early. Joan was not +mortified at all for in her small mind a guest could not go to a party +too early. Mrs. Simmons joined them in a very few minutes. Joan curtsied +prettily and kissed Granny's wrinkled white hand. + +"Did you teach her to do that in the Lincoln school?" Granny asked +Rebecca Mary after Joan had gone into the sun room to see the gold fish +in their crystal globe. "Have you heard anything from her father yet? If +Mr. Simmons were here we would soon know all about Mr. Frederick Befort, +Count Ernach de Befort," she corrected herself with a chuckle of +amusement. "But he isn't here, and I don't like to make trouble at the +office. I hope Mr. Befort comes back soon for your sake. Here is Richard +Cabot. He asked himself," she explained as Richard came toward them. "He +called me up and asked if I would give him some dinner. He often drops +in when Mr. Simmons is away to keep me from being lonesome. I'm glad he +came to-night." + +Richard looked a trifle conscious himself as he took Rebecca Mary's hand +and told her that he was very glad to see her again. + +"And her new clothes, Mr. Cabot," whispered an anxious little voice at +his elbow. Joan was desperately afraid that Richard would not see +Rebecca Mary's new frock. "You said you wanted to see her new clothes +soon, and here they are. Aren't they beautiful? And they were marked +down from sixty-nine fifty! Doesn't she look like a princess?" + +"I've never seen a princess," laughed Richard, his eyes telling Rebecca +Mary more than his lips how very much he liked her marked down frock. + +"Haven't you?" Joan looked quite surprised and sorry. "I have. I've seen +the Belgian princess and some of the English ones and, of course, all of +the German ones." + +Rebecca Mary and Granny looked at each other as Joan spoke of the many +princesses she had seen. They couldn't help it. And Rebecca Mary began +to think that perhaps Joan had too much imagination. + +It was a very gay little dinner, and before they had finished their +coffee young Peter Simmons and his mother ran in to ask what Granny had +heard from grandfather. They were followed almost at once by Sallie +Cabot and her husband, young Joshua Cabot, and close on their heels came +young Mrs. Hiram Bingham with her adoring father-in-law. Richard drew +Rebecca Mary to the other side of the grand piano and told her how +Sallie Cabot had eloped with her great aunt and found a husband and of +the jam rivalries which had threatened the romance of Hiram and Judith +Bingham. It was like reading two volumes from the public library to hear +Richard, and Rebecca Mary's eyes sparkled. So there really was some +romance in the world. She had been afraid there wasn't any left. She had +thought it must all be shut up in books. + +"You ask Sallie," advised Richard, when she said that. "She'll tell you +that there will be romance in the world as long as there are people in +it. I used to laugh at her but, by George, I'm beginning to think that +she is right!" + +"Of course, I'm right," declared Sallie, who had strolled near enough to +hear herself quoted. "Wherever did you find that child?" she asked +Rebecca Mary with a nod toward Joan. "Granny said she was a mystery, but +she is also a darling. She talks like an American kiddie, but she +doesn't act like an American. She acts more like a--like a French +child," she decided. Sallie Cabot had been at a French convent so she +thought she knew what French children were like. + +"Her mother was an American, from New Orleans." Rebecca Mary didn't know +what Joan's father was so she couldn't tell Sallie. "She is a dear, +isn't she? When she told me she had been loaned to me I was scared to +death and furious, too, but she really is fun. I expect I was in a rut," +she confessed with a shamed little face and voice which quite enchanted +Richard. + +"A rut? What an unpleasant place for a pretty girl to be. May I tell you +that I love your frock?" + +Rebecca Mary glowed with pleasure to hear young Mrs. Joshua Cabot admire +her marked down frock. Every one in Waloo knew that Mrs. Joshua Cabot +could have a new frock every day and two for Sunday if she wanted them. + +"I like it," Rebecca Mary admitted with adorable shyness. + +"So do I!" Richard did not speak at all shyly but very emphatically. + +Sallie smiled as she moved away. "Any new fox trots, Granny?" she asked. +"I depend upon you to keep me up to the minute. Put on a record, Peter, +and let us jig a bit. You like to trot, don't you, Miss Wyman?" + +Rebecca Mary admitted that she did, and Richard asked her to have one +with him as if he were afraid that some one would claim her before he +could. He was a perfect partner for he extended just far enough above +her five feet and three inches to hold her right, and their steps suited +perfectly. Rebecca Mary had never enjoyed a dance more, she thought +breathlessly, when at last they stopped because the music stopped. + +"Here's your next partner," announced Peter, when he had changed the +record and another fox trot called them to dance. + +If Rebecca Mary had been thrilled to dance with Waloo's youngest bank +vice-president you may imagine how bubbly she was inside to fox trot +with Waloo's hero. Peter smiled as he looked at the flushed face so near +his own. Lordy, but he hadn't realized what a jolly little thing Granny +had found. Nothing school marmish about her with her shining gray eyes, +which were almost black now, and her yellow-brown hair and her pink +cheeks and her smart new frock. Absolutely nothing. + +Looking up to make a little remark about the call of the fox trot, +Rebecca Mary caught the admiration in Peter's face, and she was so +astonished that she lost the step. That made her furious, and she +frowned impatiently. + +"By thunder!" exclaimed Peter in quick surprise, and he stopped dancing +to look at her. "Now I know where I saw you before! It was at the Waloo, +and you scowled at me like a pirate. I was scared to death for fear you +didn't like me." + +"You scowled at me first!" Rebecca Mary's defense of her scowl was more +emphatic than logical. + +"Oh, come now!" Peter wouldn't believe that he had been that culpable. +"I couldn't scowl at you. My old Granny was quite broken hearted to see +you frown. She said if you were her daughter she'd lock you up until you +had learned to smile. Granny's strong for the grins. Give one and you'll +get one is her motto. You can see for yourself how it works. You +scowled at me,--sure it was that way!--and I scowled at you, although I +don't see now how I ever did it." + +"It's a very bad habit," Rebecca Mary told him severely. Her mouth was +as sober as a judge's mouth ever was, but her eyes crinkled joyously. +"You should break yourself of it." + +"I shall," Peter told her promptly. "Just how should I go to work? You +seem to have broken yourself of it." His eyes were full of boyish +admiration. + +"Not entirely." Rebecca Mary sighed, "I wish I could. A frowning face is +horrid. If you ever see me scowl again I wish you would shout 'Pirate' +at me as loud as you can. I'm afraid I do it unconsciously." And sure +enough her eyebrows did begin to bend together unconsciously. + +"Pirate!" shouted Peter instantly. "I can see it's going to be some work +to be monitor of your eyebrows," he chuckled. + +Rebecca Mary was sorry when the dance with Peter was over although she +turned politely to Joshua Cabot when he spoke to her. + +"Peter's a lucky chap," he said as he swung her out into the room. "All +girls love a hero, and he's a hero all right. I'd like a decoration +myself, but I don't know as I'd care to be kissed on both cheeks by a +hairy French general. That duty should have been delegated to fat Madame +General or better still to pretty Mademoiselle General. Peter is a good +old scout, and modest. He blushes like a girl when any one speaks of +what he has done." + +Rebecca Mary nodded. She had seen him blush. She colored delicately +herself, and Joshua looked wisely over her head to his wife. Hello, +another victim for old Peter, his glance seemed to tell Sallie Cabot. + +Joan danced, too, with old Mr. Bingham, who was not as light on his feet +as he had been once. + +"I do it for exercise," he explained to Granny. "Judy thinks it's good +for me." + +"You needn't make any excuse to me, Hiram Bingham. I take exercise +myself, don't I, Peter? And if old Peter Simmons comes home in time we +shall dance nothing but fox trots at our golden wedding." + +"A golden wedding!" Joan had never heard of such a thing. "What does +that mean, dear Granny Simmons? Would I like one?" + +Granny patted her rosy cheeks. "If you have any kind of a wedding I hope +you will have a golden one, too. It stands, Joan, for fifty years of +self-control and unselfishness and forbearance and----" + +"And love," interrupted Sallie Cabot quickly. "Don't leave out the love, +Granny. No man and woman could live together for fifty years without +love." + +"I reckon you're right, Sallie," agreed Granny meekly. + +"I've never been to a golden wedding," ventured Joan, playing with the +black ribbon which kept Granny's glasses from losing themselves. "I've +never been invited to one!" + +"You are invited to mine this minute," Granny told her with beautiful +promptness. + +"Oh!" Joan balanced herself on her toes and exclaimed rapturously: "A +golden wedding! What good times I've had since I was loaned!" + +"I suppose you young people think you are having good times," murmured +Granny wistfully, "but they aren't a patch on the good times we had, are +they, Hiram? I like to take my memories out and gloat over them when I +hear you young people talk. I have a lot of them, too. Why, Joan, if I +should take all my memories out and put them end to end I expect they +would reach around the world, and if they were piled one on top of the +other they would be higher than the Waloo water tower." She named the +highest point in Waloo. + +Joan was not the only one impressed by the vast number of Granny's +memories. + +"Imagine," Rebecca Mary turned to Richard, who was at her elbow, "having +so many things you want to remember. Most of my experiences I want to +forget." And she shivered. + +"Have they been so unpleasant?" Richard had never imagined he could be +so sympathetic. "But I've heard that the hard experiences are the very +ones that people like best to remember." + +Rebecca Mary shook her head. "How can they?" She didn't see how any one +would want to remember unpleasant experiences. + +"But you aren't going to have any more disagreeable times," promised +Richard confidently, as if he knew exactly what the future had in store +for her. "You are going to walk on Pleasant Avenue from now on." + +"I hope so." But Rebecca Mary was not so confident, although she looked +up and smiled at him. "I surely have been on Pleasant Avenue this +evening, but now I must run back to Worry Street. I'm like Cinderella, +only out on leave." And she laughed at his prophecy before she went +over to tell Granny that she had never had such a good time. + +"Must you go?" Granny held her hand in a warm friendly clasp and thought +that the child looked as if she had had a good time. "Wait a minute. +Peter----" + +Rebecca Mary's heart thumped. Was Granny going to ask Peter to take her +home? But if Granny was she didn't for Richard interrupted her. + +"Let me take Miss Wyman home. I have my car." + +"I have mine, too," grinned Peter. + +"But you have your mother. I'm alone." + +Beggars cannot be choosers and although she would far rather have gone +with Peter it was pleasant to ride with Richard in his big car, Joan +tucked between them. Richard bent forward. + +"Tired?" he asked gently. + +"I'm glad to be tired to-night." Rebecca Mary spoke almost fiercely. +"I've been dead tired from work and from disappointment, but it hasn't +been often that I've been tired from pleasure." And then she amazed +herself and charmed Richard by telling him something of her life, which +had been so full of work and disappointment and so empty of pleasure. +She even told him of Cousin Susan and the price she had paid for their +tea at the Waloo, and Richard, banker though he was, had never heard of +kitchen curtains buying tea for two. + +"You were there that afternoon," she reminded him after she had decided +that she would not tell him about the four-leaf clover. It would sound +too foolish to a bank vice-president. + +"I know," Richard said hastily before he went on in his usual +matter-of-fact voice. "You modern girls are wonderful. You are as brave +as a man, braver than lots of men I know." + +"That's because we have to be brave," Rebecca Mary explained. "I don't +know why I've bored you with my stupid past," she said, rather ashamed +of her outburst. "I've never spilled all my troubles on any one before." + +"I'm mighty flattered that you told them to me. It means that we are +going to be friends, doesn't it?" He bent forward to see as well as to +hear that she would be friends with him. It was not often that Richard +had asked for a girl's friendship. + +Rebecca Mary felt that in some occult feminine fashion, and she offered +him a warm little hand and said indeed she should be glad to be friends +with him. If her voice shook a trifle when she said that it must have +been because Richard was such a very important young man in Waloo. + +Before she went to bed Rebecca Mary took out her memory insurance policy +and entered another payment. + +"A fox trot with the hero of Waloo." + +So far as her memory insurance went the most promising young man in +Waloo did not seem to exist although she liked him very very much. But +Rebecca Mary was like everybody else, she would rather have what she +wanted than what she could get. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +"I can't blame any one but myself because I don't know all about Joan." +Rebecca Mary was an honest little thing and she made no attempt to shift +the blame to any one else. She packed it all on her own slim shoulders. +"If I had been a good teacher according to my principal I should have +called at the house long ago and heard the whole story from Mrs. +Muldoon. But I didn't. I kept putting it off, and so I don't know much." + +Granny had stopped at the Lincoln school at the close of the afternoon +session to inquire if Rebecca Mary had learned anything more about +Joan's father. But Rebecca Mary hadn't learned a thing. Joan was an odd +mixture of frankness and reserve. There were times when Rebecca Mary +thought that she must have been forbidden to speak of her old life in +the town with the German name. The whole situation was puzzling. Rebecca +Mary could not understand it at all. + +If you imagine that Joan's company was a constant joy to Rebecca Mary +you imagine all wrong. Rebecca Mary liked to have Joan with her well +enough at times, but there were other times when she was perfectly +indifferent to her guest and still other times when Joan was almost an +irritation, and Rebecca Mary could not see why of all the teachers in +the Lincoln school she should be the one to have to borrow a child +whether she wanted one or not. She had not had a chance to say "Yes, +thank you." + +"I've learned that Frederick Befort is on the factory pay-roll and as +Frederick Befort," Granny said slowly. "There is no record of any Count +Ernach de Befort. Of course now that the war is over I don't suppose it +matters if he is a German. There wouldn't be any secrets for him to +learn. Germany wouldn't be interested now in what is being done at the +factory." + +"But de Befort sounds French," objected Rebecca Mary, who could not see +that Joan bore any resemblance to any German child she had ever taught. +"Joan was born in Yokohama but that doesn't tell us anything. She +certainly isn't a Japanese. It's funny but she doesn't seem to want to +tell me what country she did come from. I was stupid enough to lose her +nativity card, and when I made out another and asked her what +nationality her father was she said he was going to be an American. I +told her I wanted to know what he was now and she said he had told her +that they would forget what they were before they came to this country. +That seemed rather queer. But Joan talks of Paris as much as she does of +Berlin. I wish I spoke French half as well as she does." + +"She speaks very good German, too. And as you say there is something +suspicious in the way she avoids any reference to her nationality. It +does seem as if she had been told not to speak of it. I suppose I am a +silly prejudiced old woman, but I should rather have Joan and her father +almost anything but German. Are you through? Don't you want to take a +spin down the River Road before you go home? It's perfect out, a real +June day. Do come with me." + +Rebecca Mary had no trouble at all to say "Yes, thank you" to that +invitation. She called Joan, and they went with Granny to the limousine +which was waiting at the curb. + +"I wonder if Cinderella's coach went as fast as this?" Joan said as they +flew toward the River Road. "We read about Cinderella this very day," +she explained to Granny. "It would be more interesting to have rats than +engines, wouldn't it? I'd like a pair of glass slippers, too, even if +they would break so easy. Wooden ones would be the strongest. That's +what they wear at home, you know, wooden ones." + +"In Germany, you mean?" asked Granny quickly. + +Joan wriggled. "Yes, in Germany they wear wooden ones," she said as +quickly, "I've never seen glass slippers, not in London nor Paris nor +Vienna nor anywhere. Aren't they any place but in fairy land?" she +twisted around to ask. + +"Nowhere. No matter how much money you have you can't buy Cinderella's +slippers anywhere but in fairy land," Rebecca Mary told her with a sigh +as if she, too, would like to find glass slippers somewhere else. + +For a while Joan was silent, meditating perhaps on the shoe shops in +fairy land with their glass slippers of every size and color. + +Granny and Rebecca Mary were silent, also, but they were not thinking of +glass slippers as the car swung into the River Road, which is quite the +prettiest drive about Waloo. Never before had Rebecca Mary driven over +it in a smart limousine with a liveried chauffeur at the wheel. She had +walked there times without number, but walking is not like riding in a +pneumatic-tired machine, and Rebecca Mary did enjoy the change. She was +afraid that there was the making of a snob in her for she did like to +ride with Mrs. Peter Simmons better than she liked to walk with a +teacher as shabby as she had been. Yes, she was a perfect snob. She +laughed as if she found it funny to be a snob. Joan looked up and +laughed, too. + +"I like you best when you laugh." She squeezed Rebecca Mary's fingers. +"Of course I like you always, days and nights and every minute, but when +you let your face break into little holes," she reached up and touched +Rebecca Mary's one dimple, "why I just love you!" + +"So do I," said Granny. "And it makes my old face break into little +holes, too. Dear me, that makes it very serious, doesn't it? It is our +own fault when people frown at us. Don't ever forget that, Joan. If you +smile at people they will smile at you." + +"Will they? But I like to have people frown at me sometimes. It makes me +shiver all down my back. Don't you like to have your back shiver?" + +"My back is too old to like to shiver. It's far too old and too stiff." + +Rebecca Mary caught the note of sadness in Granny's voice and ventured +to touch her hand. "It's the heart not the back which should be young," +she said softly. "I read that somewhere so it must be true. And your +heart, dear Mrs. Simmons, will never in the world be old. Gracious, I +should say it wouldn't!" she added emphatically as she remembered how +far from old Granny's enthusiasm was. + +"Don't call me Mrs. Simmons," begged Granny, and she took Rebecca Mary's +hand in hers. "I'm Granny to all of my young friends. I'd like to be +Granny to you." + +Rebecca Mary caught her breath. Just imagine calling Mrs. Peter +Simmons,--Mrs. Peter Simmons of Waloo--, Granny! + +"I'm not going to let my heart grow old either," exclaimed Joan before +Rebecca Mary could tell Mrs. Simmons how glad she would be to call her +Granny. "I want to keep it young for ever. But how can I when it gets +older every year? To-day my heart's eight and next May it will be nine! +How can I keep it young for ever?" Joan's voice was a wail. + +"Yes, Miss Wyman, how can we keep our hearts young when there is always +a birthday before us?" + +"You know. No one can give a better rule than you can." + +But Granny shook her head. She declared that there wasn't any rule, that +was why there were so many old hearts. People didn't know how to keep +their hearts young. They weren't taught in any school she knew of. + +"I'll ask daddy," promised Joan. "I expect he'll know. I'll ask him just +as soon as I see him. But I hope he won't come for me before the golden +wedding." She turned pale at the mere thought of missing a golden +wedding. + +"The golden wedding won't be until July," Granny told her. "Imagine any +one being married in July. It was the most scorching day. I thought I +should melt and that old Peter Simmons would melt and there wouldn't be +any one left to be married. We went to New York and the sea shore on our +wedding trip, and Peter ate too many lobsters and was ill. Such times as +we had!" She smiled at their memory. "The twenty-second of July," she +said dreamily. "Will you keep Joan until then, Miss Wyman? Oh, I have a +plan! This is the last week of school, isn't it?" + +Rebecca Mary nodded to the last question before she answered the first. +"I'll take Joan down home with me, to Mifflin, if Mrs. Muldoon doesn't +come back." + +"No, I want you both to come to me. Please," as Rebecca Mary looked at +her in surprise. "I'm so lonely in that big house by myself. Mr. +Simmons is away so much, I never know when he will be home. It would +keep my old heart young," she hinted, "to have two young things in the +house again. Do, please take pity on a crabbed old woman." + +"You're not a crabbed old woman!" Rebecca Mary said fiercely. + +"I shall be if you don't come and stay with me. We might motor up to +Seven Pines, that's our country place, for a few days. Most people think +it's very pretty there. You want to come, don't you, Joan?" + +"Yes, I do." Joan did not hesitate a breath. "I want to help you keep +your heart young. Don't you want to help too, Miss Wyman?" She didn't +see how Miss Wyman could refuse to help. + +"But my mother and sister will expect us in Mifflin." + +"We can run down Saturday and tell them," suggested Granny. "We can +motor down and back in a day. I know your mother will be willing." + +But still Rebecca Mary hesitated although it would be fun to go rolling +into Mifflin in the big limousine, and it would be fun, too, to stay +with Mrs. Simmons in her big house, but---- Her fingers touched her +pocket and felt a hard round object, the locket which held the four-leaf +clover. The locket reminded Rebecca Mary that she couldn't refuse +Granny Simmons' kind invitation if she kept her promise to Cousin Susan. +She blushed and stammered a bit as she said "Yes, thank you." And then +impulsively she showed Granny the locket and told her what a mystery it +contained. + +"Well, upon my word!" Granny seemed as surprised and interested as +Rebecca Mary could wish. "How romantic! We must find who gave it to you. +I do hope it wasn't that fat old waiter who sniffs. Haven't you any +clue? Who was in the tea room that afternoon?" + +"I was there with daddy, wasn't I, Miss Wyman?" Joan pulled her sleeve. +"But I gave you violets. I didn't give you any lucky clover." + +"Did you see her father?" Granny asked immediately. She was surprised +that Rebecca Mary hadn't told her she had seen Frederick Befort. + +Rebecca Mary shook her head. "You can't really say you have seen a man +when you have had only a fleeting glimpse of a back. You were there, +Mrs. Simmons. And your grandson!" To save her soul Rebecca Mary could +not keep the crimson wave from her cheeks when she just the same as put +a wish in words. + +But Granny shrieked with delight. "If it was Peter!" she chuckled. "If +it only was Peter! He is such a matter of fact old boy. I'd love to +think he went around giving girls four-leaf clovers." + +"Matter of fact!" Rebecca Mary stared at Granny. Peter was anything but +matter of fact to her. Her voice told Granny so. + +Granny stopped in the very middle of another chuckle. "Perhaps my eyes +are as old as my heart," she admitted. "You'll have to come and help me +see Peter as you do, help me change my old eyes." + +"Can you do that?" Joan wanted to know at once. "Can you change your +eyes and your heart if you don't like the ones you have, like Mrs. +Muldoon changed the bread one day? She said it was stale." + +"Indeed you can change a stale heart, Joan. It is wrong and foolish to +keep such a useless thing as a stale heart. You should change it at +once." + +"Where?" + +Granny looked helplessly at Rebecca Mary. Joan's endless questions were +sometimes hard to answer. Rebecca Mary laughed and answered for her. + +"Wherever there is anything to love," she suggested. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +When Richard heard that Granny was going to take Rebecca Mary and Joan +to Mifflin in her limousine he discovered that he had to call on the +Mifflin National Bank, and he suggested that they should make the trip +together. + +"I'll drive you in my big car," he said. "We could stop at the River +Club for lunch and come home by way of Spirit Lake for dinner. You'll +like the River Club," he told Rebecca Mary. "It's on an island in the +Mississippi and the dining room hangs over the river. You can catch your +lunch from the window." + +"What fun!" dimpled Rebecca Mary. "It sounds like a most beautiful pink +plan." + +"Pink plan?" Richard didn't understand what she meant, but he thought +she looked rather beautiful and pink herself as she stood beside him. + +"Whenever I hear of anything that is absolutely all right," Rebecca Mary +explained, "I seem to see it as the most lovely rose color. And so I +always think of absolutely all right things as pink. How lucky it is +for us that you owe the Mifflin Bank a call." + +"It's lucky for me," insisted Richard with a smile. + +So on Saturday Richard brought his big car to Rebecca Mary's door, and +Joan and Rebecca Mary ran down from the window where they had been +watching for him for hours. Rebecca Mary wore another portion of Aunt +Ellen's gift, a new motor coat--to tell the truth it was the only motor +coat she had ever had--and a fascinatingly small hat demurely veiled. +She looked just exactly right for a motor trip, and Richard told her so +with his eyes while Granny, who was already in the tonneau, admired her +with her lips as well as her eyes. + +"That's a very smart and becoming coat and hat, Rebecca Mary," she said +at once. "Suppose you sit in front with Richard? Riding in an open car +always makes me sleepy and if you are back here you will talk to me and +keep me awake." + +"Won't I talk to you?" Joan didn't know how she was going to keep from +talking all the way from Waloo to Mifflin, but she obediently nestled +down beside Granny. + +"I rather think you will." Granny smiled at her and patted her fat +little hand. "But before you begin to talk you must help me plan how we +shall persuade Mrs. Wyman to loan us her daughter. That will take a lot +of thinking, and you can't talk very well while you are thinking." + +On the front seat Rebecca Mary laughed joyously. "It sounds as if this +was going to be a very important expedition," she said. + +"It is," Richard told her with a flash of his eyes. "All ready? Quite +comfortable?" + +And when Rebecca Mary had said she was quite ready and comfortable he +took the seat beside her and did something to buttons and levers and +they were off. + +Rebecca Mary felt like one of the princesses Joan talked about so +intimately as they rolled down the street, through the suburbs and into +the real country. Richard called her attention to this old house, a +relic of pioneer days, or to that new public library, and to the white +sign boards which told them that they were on the Jefferson Highway. The +name was between a palmetto and a towering pine to show them that New +Orleans was at one end and that Minnesota was at the other end of that +ribbon-smooth road. Richard seemed to know the way and there was nothing +which Rebecca Mary should have seen which he did not show her. + +"Want to go faster?" he asked when she leaned forward to look at the +speed indicator. He touched a button again and they went faster. + +"It's like flying!" she exclaimed with shining eyes. "Oh, I do think +there are such wonderful things in the world! Aren't you glad that you +are living now!" + +He laughed at her enthusiasm. What a jolly little thing she was! And he +told her that he most certainly was glad to be living that moment in a +way which deepened the vivid color in Rebecca Mary's cheeks. + +"Of course it's an old story to you," she went on quickly. "But this is +the very first time I ever motored from Waloo to Mifflin. I've always +gone in a stuffy day train and had cinders get into my eyes. Once the +train was held up four hours by a wash-out on the road and an old +Norwegian gave me some cookies. They did taste good," she assured him +for he seemed as interested in the cakes as if he were a baker instead +of a banker. + +"Norwegian women are good cooks, and Norway is a beautiful country." + +"I suppose you've been there? Every country will be beautiful to me +unless I am so old when I start on my travels that I can't see. My +favorite castle is a railroad ticket. I've never been farther than +Waloo in all my life. I don't know why I tell you that for of course you +know it. Any one can see that I've never been anywhere nor seen +anything." + +"Yes." Richard agreed with her so promptly that she felt as if he had +pinched her for naturally she had expected that he would say that any +one to see her would think she had been everywhere and seen everything. +The sting was taken from the pinch when he went on: "If you had been +everywhere you wouldn't be so jolly and enthusiastic as you are. Girls +who have been everywhere and seen everything aren't satisfied with +anything." + +"I wonder," meditated Rebecca Mary. "Then you think it's better not to +have and want, than to have and not care for?" + +"Much better. Very much better!" + +"M-m," murmured Rebecca Mary doubtfully. "I don't believe you know a +thing about it," she exclaimed suddenly. "You've had all of your life!" + +"Not everything," Richard insisted. "There is at least one thing I've +never had." But he did not tell her what that one thing was, and she did +not ask him. + +The River Club was all that Richard had said it would be. They crossed +a bridge to the island at one end of which was the rambling shingled +club house which really did overhang the river. Richard was quite right, +and Rebecca Mary could easily have fished from the window of the big +dining room, but she preferred to let Richard order her lunch from the +club pantries. A dozen or more men were lunching at the little tables, +and Rebecca Mary heard scraps of their talk--"fifteen pounds"--"the +brute got off with my best fly"--"that darned pike couldn't have weighed +less than six pounds." She looked at Richard and laughed. + +"I suppose more lies are told in this room than anywhere in the state," +she whispered. + +"I expect you are right," he whispered back. + +They had a most delicious luncheon of black bass fresh from the river, +of new potatoes and peas and salad and strawberries from the club +garden. Many of the fishermen who had nodded to Richard came over to +speak to Granny, and Richard introduced them to Rebecca Mary, and told +her in an undertone that this one was a lumber king and that one was an +iron king and the other one was a flour king. Rebecca Mary had never +been in a room with so many kings in her life, and she looked after them +curiously as she said so. + +"Yes," Granny murmured. "They call this the millionaires' retreat, don't +they, Richard?" + +"I prefer the River Club, myself," was all Richard would say. + +The club with its royal members seemed to make Richard even more +important to Rebecca Mary, and she looked at him a trifle oddly as they +left the island and went on to Mifflin. She had known that Richard was +very clever and important--Granny had told her that old Mr. Simmons +considered Richard Cabot quite the most promising young man in +Waloo--but she hadn't thought these elderly kings of lumber and iron and +flour would listen to him as they had listened. Richard seemed too young +to belong with those bald-headed white-haired pudgy kings and yet they +had greeted him as if they were very glad to see him. Rebecca Mary stole +a shy glance at Richard. He was looking at her instead of twenty feet in +front of his car as a motor driver should look, and he smiled. + +"Like it?" + +"Love it!" And she smiled, too, and forgot all about kings. How splendid +it was to have Richard for a friend. And if he hadn't been a friend he +never would have smiled at her like that. It gave her such a warm cozy +little feeling to have a man like Richard for a friend. "Oh, isn't this +the most wonderful day that was ever made out of blue sky and golden +sunshine!" she cried suddenly. "And we're coming to Mifflin. There's +Peterson's farm!" + +And now it was Rebecca Mary who pointed out the points of interest, the +old mill, the spire of the Episcopal church and the new starch factory, +which was going to make the fortunes of the farmers, she told Richard +with a serious little air which he liked enormously. + +"What do you know about starch?" he teased. + +"Lots. I know that the farmers have planted loads of potatoes, and they +are going to sell them to the starch factory for enormous prices." + +"Farmers always expect to sell for enormous prices, but if they have all +planted enormous crops some of them will be disappointed. There is a +little old law of supply and demand which regulates that sort of thing, +you know." + +"That's just it," Rebecca Mary exclaimed triumphantly. "The demand for +Mifflin starch is going to be so great that there will be a huge demand +for potatoes. I have a tiny bit of money that I might invest myself +now," she told him a little proudly as she remembered how much was left +of Aunt Ellen's gift. "I might become a starch queen," she giggled. + +"You might. But you might become a starch bankrupt, too. Don't you put +any of your money into anything until I have a chance to look into it," +he said firmly. + +"I never should have dared to ask you for advice," she began, but he +interrupted her. + +"You haven't asked, I've offered, and I want you to promise you won't +buy shares in anything until you have talked to me. I've had more +experience in picking out good investments than you have." + +Rebecca Mary laughed. "You couldn't have had less. It's awfully good of +you, Mr. Cabot, to be willing to bother about my pennies, and when I +have enough to do anything with I'll remember your very kind offer. Turn +down this street if you want to find my home. Perhaps you would like to +know whom you will see there. There is only my mother and sister. Mother +is a dear, and she has had an awfully hard time. Grace is a dear, too. +She is a year and a half older than I am and looks after the public +library for Mifflin. There is the house, the big frame one on the +corner. Why----" for the big frame house on the corner had just been +treated to a coat of fresh white paint, and Rebecca Mary scarcely knew +it when it shone forth so resplendent with its green-blinded windows. + +"What an attractive place!" Granny woke up to lean forward and tell +Rebecca Mary how much she liked her old home. "It looks as if it had +been a home for more than one generation." + +"It has!" Rebecca Mary twisted around to tell her its history. "My +grandfather built it when he brought my grandmother here a bride just +after the Civil War. It's grown since then, of course; that wing on the +right and the L. It's really too big for mother and Grace but we +couldn't sell it if we wanted to. I'd hate to sell it if we could." +Rebecca Mary really loved the old house and she loved it more than ever +now that it was repaired and painted. It really looked imposing. She had +no reason to be ashamed of her home, and she was very grateful to Aunt +Ellen as she slipped her arm through Granny's and led her up the bricked +walk as Mrs. Wyman and Grace hurried out to meet them. + +Rebecca Mary's eyes widened as she saw the pretty summer frocks which +her mother and Grace were wearing and when she kissed Grace she +whispered in her ear: "Hurrah for Aunt Ellen!" They all stood talking +and laughing on the wide porch. + +"So this is where you grew to be such a big girl?" Richard looked at the +ample lawn which the white fence enclosed. He seemed to find it of great +interest. + +"Yes," nodded Rebecca Mary. "That is where I made mud pies, and there is +the apple tree I climbed. I pretended it was a ship which was taking me +to the Equator. I had the wildest interest in the Equator when I was +ten. And that is the gate I was always running out of until mother tied +me to the apple tree." + +"Why, Miss Wyman!" Joan's very foundations seemed to totter. "Were you +ever a bad little girl?" She couldn't believe it. Miss Wyman was her +teacher and teachers,--could they ever have been bad little girls? + +"Very bad!" Rebecca Mary's laughing answer did not sound at all +convincing. "At least that is what my mother said, and she should know." + +Joan might have carried her investigation of this startling statement +further if Grace had not called to her to come and see the new brown +cocker puppy and help choose a name for him. Richard and Rebecca Mary +were left alone to talk of the days when Rebecca Mary had to be tied to +the gnarled old apple tree. + +"Richard!" It was Granny who interrupted them. "If you are to call on +the Mifflin Bank don't you think you had better go?" Granny's voice +almost sounded as if she didn't quite believe that Richard owed the +Mifflin Bank a call. + +Richard jumped up and looked at her in a dazed sort of a way for he had +completely forgotten the business which had brought him to Mifflin. +Rebecca Mary walked to the gate with him and gave him careful directions +as to how he should find the Mifflin Bank. When he had driven away she +went with Grace to the kitchen, where she mixed sprays of mint, fresh +from the garden, with sugar and lemons and ice and ginger ale until she +had a most delicious drink. Grace arranged the little cakes she had made +on one of Grandmother Wyman's old plates. + +"A new recipe of Anne Wellman's," she said, giving one to Rebecca Mary +to sample. "An after the war recipe. There is nothing conserved in these +cakes. Rebecca Mary, do you know what mother and I planned last night? +Neither of us has ever seen the Atlantic Ocean. I suppose you will think +we have lost our minds but we are going to take a part of Aunt Ellen's +present and go to the sea shore." + +"I don't!" exclaimed Rebecca Mary quickly. "I think you've just found +your minds. As a family we should have lost the art of spending if Aunt +Ellen hadn't sent her present just when she did. I'm glad you and mother +are going to have some fun. Good old Aunt Ellen! You must send her a +post card. Send her two post cards!" And the two girls laughed joyously. +"That's all right," Rebecca Mary went on more soberly, "but just let me +tell you what her present has done for me. I wrote you that I'd met the +wonderful Peter Simmons, didn't I?" + +"Seven pages. You do have the luck, Rebecca Mary! Why didn't you bring +the wonderful Peter with you to-day instead of the First National Bank?" + +Rebecca Mary chuckled. "The First National Bank is really splendid," she +insisted. "And awfully important. He's been perfectly corking to me. But +Peter Simmons, Grace, Peter Simmons!" + +"M-m," murmured Grace enviously. + +Granny was enthusiastic over the old mahogany and walnut furniture which +filled the house and which Grandfather Wyman had brought from his +grandfather's old home in Pennsylvania. + +"It's beautiful," she exclaimed. "You don't seem to have anything but +old mahogany and walnut, Mrs. Wyman. This is a real museum piece." And +she ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the old Sheraton +sideboard and looked at the old Chippendale chairs. + +Rebecca Mary had come in with her big crystal pitcher and she placed the +tray on the old Chippendale table. "And the reason we have nothing but +old stuff," she confessed frankly, "is that we never could buy new. I +suppose it is lucky we couldn't, but it just about broke my heart a few +years ago that we didn't have anything but four post beds and gate +legged tables. I yearned for a davenport upholstered in green velours +instead of that ancient sofa. I wanted less old mahogany and more new +clothes. Is that Mr. Cabot?" The sound of a motor car drew her to the +window. "I hope he found the Mifflin Bank at home." + +It was Richard, and when he came in he had a big box of candy under his +arm. He gave it to Mrs. Wyman. + +"This isn't Mifflin candy," Grace exclaimed when she saw the tempting +contents. "You never found this in Mifflin!" + +And Richard had to confess that he hadn't, that he had brought the box +from Waloo for Mrs. Wyman, and Grace looked at Rebecca Mary +significantly. "Very thoughtful of your First National Bank," she +seemed to say. + +Mrs. Wyman drew Rebecca Mary from the little group to ask her if she +wouldn't rather go east and be introduced to the Atlantic Ocean than +accept Granny Simmons' invitation. She and Grace would love to have +Rebecca Mary with them, but they wanted her to do exactly as she wished. + +"I think I'll stay with Mrs. Simmons," Rebecca Mary said after a +moment's frowning thought. "You see there is Joan. I couldn't take her +east very well. And, anyway, the Atlantic Ocean will keep. It has been +there for some years, and Mrs. Simmons may never ask me again. I should +like to visit in a big house like hers, and she said she would take us +to her country place, Seven Pines. I can board at a sea shore hotel +whenever I have the money, but I can't always visit an old dear like +Granny Simmons." + +"That is true. I hope you don't think we are foolishly extravagant, +Rebecca Mary? Aunt Ellen said we were to use the money for pleasure. And +then you wrote me what Cousin Susan said to you about memories. I do +want Grace and you to have some good times to remember. I hope it isn't +foolish," Mrs. Wyman repeated, for deep down in her heart she was +almost sure it was foolish to spend Aunt Ellen's present for a trip when +she could buy a mortgage with it. + +"If I told you what I honestly think we'd never save another cent, and +we'd have to take our memories to the poor house some day. Really, +mother, it is the wisest thing to do. Cousin Susan convinced me that +sometimes you can pay too big a price when you save and scrimp. Do get +some pretty clothes, lots of them. They make you feel all new and--and +efficient," she laughed at her choice of a word. "That's a love you have +on now. You never got it in Mifflin. And if Joan's father comes for her +and Mrs. Simmons gets tired of me I'll come east and join you. I should +like to meet the Atlantic Ocean. I've heard quite a lot about it." + +Her mother looked at her and smiled. The last time Rebecca Mary had been +home she had not laughed like that. She had frowned over the bills and +talked of the future as of a barren desert. If taking out a memory +insurance policy would change a girl as Rebecca Mary had changed, Mrs. +Wyman was going to advocate memory insurance policies for every one. + +Granny was delighted that no objections were made to her invitation, and +she asked Mrs. Wyman and Grace to spend a few days with her on their +way east. But Mrs. Wyman thanked her and said that they had planned to +do their shopping in Chicago and it would be out of their way to go to +Waloo. Altogether it was a very satisfactory visit, and every one was +sorry when it was over and Granny and Joan were once more in the tonneau +of Richard's big car. + +"I like your mother and your sister and your home so much, Rebecca +Mary," Granny said when they had waved a last good-by before they turned +the corner. + +"So do I!" exclaimed Richard heartily. + +"I do, too," repeated that echo, Joan. "Am I to talk to you on the way +home, Granny, dear?" + +"If you think it will make the ride pleasanter," Granny obligingly told +her. "But you must not be surprised if I doze in the middle of your +story. Motor riding does make me sleepy." + +The way to Mifflin had led them down the river and the way to Spirit +Lake took them back through a rich farming country. Richard astonished +Rebecca Mary by the ease with which he could distinguish young wheat +from oats and oats from barley or buckwheat when he was passing a field +at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour. The fields were only a green +blur to Rebecca Mary. They reached Spirit Lake just at sunset and were +pleasantly surprised to find Stanley Cabot perched on the railing of the +hotel veranda smoking a cigarette. He jumped up and threw his cigarette +away as he came to meet them. + +"How pretty it is!" Rebecca Mary looked around with shining eyes. "What +is that down by the lake?" And she nodded toward a screened pavilion +which wore a gay necklace of colored lanterns. + +"That's the dancing pavilion," Stanley told her eagerly. "Want to run +over and have a fox trot? There's just time before your dinner will be +ready." + +Rebecca Mary's eyes sparkled. "Shall we?" But she said it to Richard +instead of to Stanley. + +"Sure. Come along." And Richard held out his hand. + +"The dickens!" Stanley looked after them as they ran to the pavilion. "I +thought I issued the invitation. She seems to have made an impression on +old Dick, Granny? I thought he was immune to girls. What is it?" + +Granny, comfortably settled in a big rocking chair, looked mysterious. +"I expect it was her scowl. She frowned at Richard, and Richard, you +know, Stanley, isn't used to frowns. Girls have always smiled at him. I +expect Rebecca Mary's scowl interested him." + +"That might be. A girl has to offer a man new stuff to interest him. You +may be right." + +"Of course I'm right. What are you doing here, Stanley?" + +And while Stanley told Granny and Joan about the sketching trip which +had brought him to Spirit Lake, where he had found some corking effects, +Rebecca Mary and Richard danced on a floor which was far from smooth and +to the music of a piano and a violin which were not as harmonious as you +would wish a piano and a violin to be, but both Rebecca Mary and Richard +said that it was the jolliest dance they had ever had when it was over, +and hand in hand they ran back to the hotel and the waiting dinner. It +seemed the most natural thing in the world for them to go hand in hand, +but Rebecca Mary was quite breathless when she came up the steps after +she had pulled her fingers from Richard's hand. + +"I hope we haven't kept you waiting," she cried. "But it was such fun." + +"Much you care about us when you scorned my invitation and went off with +my brother," Stanley said, as if cut to the very quick. "I don't know +what reparation you can make unless you sit beside me and talk +exclusively to me." + +"Oh!" Rebecca Mary was pinkly embarrassed. "I didn't hear you deliver +any invitation," she stammered, but her explanation only made matters +worse. + +"Granny heard it and so did Joan." Stanley quite enjoyed teasing Rebecca +Mary into pink embarrassment. Perhaps he wanted to see the scowl which +had interested Richard, but if he did he was disappointed for Rebecca +Mary never frowned once. She was too happy and too contented. She could +only laugh and smile as she promised to sit beside him and talk +exclusively to him. That wasn't so easy to do as to promise for there +were other girls on the screened porch where the dinner tables were +arranged, and they smiled and nodded to Richard until he had to go and +speak to them. + +"My brother Richard is very popular with the girls," Stanley told +Rebecca Mary with a twinkle. "He's quite a boy, is my brother Richard." + +"M-m," was all that Rebecca Mary would say to that, but she watched his +brother Richard out of the tail of her eye. + +Although Stanley was jolly and Richard was as devoted as those other +girls would permit, Rebecca Mary was glad when they were in the car +again and had said good-by to Stanley and the other girls and were +speeding over a road which was quite as perfect as the Jefferson +Highway. + +"You drive awfully well!" Rebecca Mary told Richard. + +"Want to learn? It wouldn't be any trick at all to teach you." + +"You shan't teach her now," exclaimed Granny, who was not so drowsy but +she had overhead him. "This is no time to teach any one. You can hold +your automobile class, Richard Cabot, some time when I'm not with you." + +"All right. Miss Wyman, I'll hold a class limited to one, in motor +driving some other time. Want to be the one?" He smiled down at her. + +"Do I?" Rebecca Mary was almost speechless. She could only look at +Richard until he flushed and murmured that he knew it would be no +trouble at all to teach her, absolutely no trouble at all. + +"It's been the most wonderful day!" Rebecca Mary was almost at a loss to +tell them how wonderful it had been when at last they stopped at her +door again. Words seemed too inadequate. + +"As pink as you expected?" asked Richard. + +"Pinker. The most beautiful shade imaginable. I'll never forget how pink +it has been." + +"If you liked it so much we'll go again," promised Richard, eager to +give Rebecca Mary another good time. Her enthusiasm made him feel very +generous. "And don't forget that motor class of mine!" + +"Forget!" Rebecca Mary stared at him. How could she ever forget. She +expected to remember his motor class as long as she lived, but she +didn't tell him that. She just thanked him sedately and told him to let +her know when his motor class would meet and she would try to be on +time. She did dislike tardy scholars. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Rebecca Mary could never believe that the next two weeks really +happened. They were far too wonderful. They couldn't have happened to +her for nothing but influenza and moths and insurance premiums had come +to her. She felt as if she were in the middle of the very nicest dream a +girl could have when she stood in the most attractive bed room she had +ever seen and looked around her. It certainly was going to be jolly to +perch in the lap of luxury for a while. + +No wonder Rebecca Mary liked Mrs. Peter Simmons' guest room. It was so +very different from the dingy rectangle which was her sitting room by +day and her sleeping room by night. Mrs. Simmons' guest room, with its +flower strewn chintz whose roses were repeated in the garlands on the +ivory bed and dresser, overlooked Mrs. Simmons' garden from which the +roses seemed to have strayed. A white bathroom opened from this rose +bower and beyond it was a blue room among whose forget-me-nots and +bachelor buttons Joan had found a place for her family portrait, her +clock and her potato masher. + +And Rebecca Mary's days were as different as her bed room. Instead of +going to school Rebecca Mary went about with Granny and met a lot of +pleasant people of all ages. Granny was a favorite with the young +people, and as there was no end to what she would do for them she was +always the center of a jolly little group. + +"It's the prescription I'm trying to keep my heart young," she told +Rebecca Mary wistfully. + +So there were luncheons and teas with girls Rebecca Mary had never +imagined she would ever know, and informal dinners and dances at the +Country Club and long automobile drives. One morning Granny took her +guests to see Mrs. Hiram Bingham's small sons, and Joan hung enraptured +over the dimpled twins. + +"Horatio and Hiram!" How Granny laughed at the names. "What should you +have done, Judith, if there had been but one baby? Which father would +you have honored?" + +"Thank goodness I didn't have to make a choice!" Judith shivered at the +mere thought of honoring but one father. "Providence was mighty good to +send me two sons. Horatio and Hiram are dreadful names, aren't they? +But I just had to name the boys for my daddy and for Father Bingham." + +"If there had been but one you could have named him for the jam which +brought you and Hiram together," suggested Granny with a twinkle. + +"They name babies for kaisers but do they ever name them for jam?" Joan +could not believe that a jar of preserves would furnish a suitable name +for any child. "My daddy was named for a kaiser, not this kaiser but +another one. His name is Frederick William Gaston Johan Louis," she +announced proudly. + +"Mercy me, what a mouthful! What does he do with so many?" Granny had +emphasized each name with a squeeze of Rebecca Mary's arm. Surely Joan +could never have imagined such a combination. + +"He doesn't use them all now." Joan was almost apologetic. "In Waloo he +only uses the Frederick one. Isn't it funny how your names change? In +Germany I'm Johanna. '_Ein gutes Kind, Johanna_,' the kaiser said I was +himself, and in France and America I'm Joan. Oh, did you see that?" For +young Horatio had seized a handful of Joan's black hair. "Isn't he a +darling! He's--he's a lot better than a potato masher, isn't he?" + +They all laughed, and names were forgotten for the moment although +Granny gave Rebecca Mary an extra hard squeeze when she heard what the +kaiser had called Joan. + +"They must be German," Granny said, when she and Rebecca Mary were +alone. "I thought so all the time. No one but a German would go away and +leave a little girl as Joan was left. I shouldn't be surprised if Count +Ernach de Befort never came back," she added cheerfully. + +"Oh!" Rebecca Mary was stunned at such a thought. "Of course he will +come back. And Joan didn't say she was a German." + +"Joan doesn't say she is anything. I don't believe she knows even if she +did say she was from Echternach. Never mind, Rebecca Mary, if she is +left on your hands I'll help you take care of her. She amuses me with +her contradictory statements. I like a mystery now that the war is +over." + +"I'm not sure that I do," murmured bewildered Rebecca Mary. + +She really didn't have much time to wonder about Joan for Granny's +friends seemed to have entered into a delightful conspiracy to make much +of Rebecca Mary. Sallie Cabot gave a dinner dance for her and Rose +Horton, who had been Rose Cabot, gave a tea and even Madame Cabot, who +was Richard's great aunt, gave a theater party, after which she took her +guests to the Waloo for supper and to dance. You can't really blame +Rebecca Mary for rubbing her eyes and wondering if she could be Rebecca +Mary Wyman. + +Stanley Cabot was at several of these affairs, and he watched Rebecca +Mary with an amused smile. + +"I thought you said she scowled at old Dick," he said to Granny. +"Perhaps I don't know a scowl when I see one, but I didn't think it was +like that." And he nodded toward Rebecca Mary, who was smiling at +Richard Cabot. + +"Dear child," murmured Granny. "When you are my age, Stanley, you will +hate to see anything but smiles on young faces. I hope Rebecca Mary has +forgotten how to frown. But it was a scowl, Stanley, I know it was, +which first attracted Richard." + +It almost seemed as if Rebecca Mary had forgotten how to do anything but +smile, and young Peter had no occasion to shout "Pirate." He was in and +out of the house at all hours and so had every opportunity to see what +Rebecca Mary was doing. It was not often that she could persuade him to +talk to her of his experiences in France. + +"Of course a man can't get it out of his thoughts," he did say one day, +"but it isn't anything he wants to talk about. It was just luck that got +me up to the front. If I hadn't been lucky I shouldn't have gone any +farther than Dick Cabot. You know he tried to get into the service, any +service? Yep. But he broke his arm when he was a kid and it's a little +stiff. The doctors wouldn't pass him. Then he tried for the Red Cross +and Uncle Sam said, 'No, you're a banker, Dick Cabot, and the work you +can do is to sell Liberty bonds.' I'd hate to tell you how many bonds +Dick did sell. It was owing to him that this district went over the top +as soon as the sales were on. He's a corker, Dick Cabot, all right, all +right. And he did as much at home to win the war as I did in France." + +"Oh!" breathed Rebecca Mary, trying to grasp this point of view which +Peter was offering her. It was splendid of Peter to talk that way but +she couldn't really think that Richard at home had done as much as Peter +in France, and she said so. + +"That shows what an ignorant little girl you are," Peter retorted. "But +don't let's talk about the war. There are a lot of pleasanter subjects." + +"Such as?" If he wouldn't talk about the war he could choose his own +subject. + +"You," Peter told her as she should have known he would tell her. And he +chuckled when she flushed as he had known she would flush. Peter loved +to make Rebecca Mary blush and stammer although it was not as easy as it +had been. Rebecca Mary was acquiring poise. + +Richard's class in motor driving met as he had planned, and his one +pupil would never forget the first time that she had her hands on the +wheel and felt the pull of the sixty horses harnessed under the hood. + +"It makes you feel like a--like a god!" she gasped, not daring to take +her eyes from the road. + +"It makes you look like a goddess," laughed Richard. "You're going to +make a good driver, Miss Wyman. You can follow instructions and keep +your mind on what you are doing. You don't try a dozen things at once." + +"That was what I was trained to do. A school teacher has to keep her +mind on her work, and, goodness knows, she is given plenty of +instructions to follow." + +"You won't be a school teacher long," prophesied Richard, reaching over +to show her something, and his hand covered hers. + +A thread of fire seemed to start from his fingers and run all over +Rebecca Mary. She couldn't speak for a second, and when she did speak +her voice was not as steady as she wanted it to be. + +"Gracious me, I hope not," she stuttered. "Who would want to teach +school for ever?" + +"You won't do it for ever!" Richard said again, and no seventh daughter +of a seventh daughter could have been more emphatic about the future. He +smiled at Rebecca Mary as she sat beside him, her cheeks pink, her eyes +black with excitement, her hair blowing about her face. She wore another +small portion of Aunt Ellen's present, an old rose silk sweater, and it +was wonderfully becoming. + +"I'd like to do this for ever," she murmured. "I've at last found an +occupation which suits me right down to the very ground." + +"Would you like to do it for me for ever?" The question did not surprise +Rebecca Mary half as much as it did Richard. It was not often that he +uttered soft nothings to a girl. He was more accustomed to talk of +stocks and bonds, and he thought it was strange that he never wanted to +talk of stocks and bonds to Rebecca Mary. "You must have another lesson +very soon," he went on in a more matter of fact voice as she did not +tell him whether she would like to drive for him for ever. "Practice is +the only thing that will make you perfect. You must have a lot of +practice." + +When Peter heard that Richard was teaching Rebecca Mary to drive his big +car he pretended to be vastly indignant. + +"Why didn't you tell me you wanted to learn?" he demanded. + +"I didn't have to tell Mr. Cabot," she answered triumphantly. + +"Great old mind reader, Dick Cabot is, isn't he? Well, if you're +learning to drive his big car you had better let me teach you how to +manage a roadster and Granny's small car and the limousine." + +"And then I can stop teaching school and open a garage," dimpled Rebecca +Mary. "Very well, bring out your roadster." + +"You drive very well," Peter was good enough to say when Rebecca Mary +had demonstrated what she could do. "A little more practice and you can +drive anywhere." + +"Really!" Rebecca Mary liked his words so much that she wanted to hear +them again. + +"Really." + +And then Rebecca Mary killed her engine and couldn't remember how to +start it again. Peter put his hand on the button at the same moment she +did, and his five fingers closed over Rebecca Mary's five fingers. +Rebecca Mary quivered to her toes, but she tried to be very matter of +fact. + +"Granny said I might have to drive for her," she said quickly. "Karl is +going to leave, and she hasn't found a new chauffeur yet." + +That evening she actually did drive Richard through the traffic which +surged around the pavilion where the weekly band concert was given. If +Peter had been there he would have had to shout "Pirate" several times +for Rebecca Mary did scowl yellow brownly, but that was because she was +so anxious to drive well. + +"Aren't you shaking in your shoes?" she asked when they were held up at +a very busy crossing. "No one can question your bravery now. You've +certainly earned a medal." + +Richard looked at her sparkling eyes, and his staid invulnerable heart +gave a flop which startled him, and a flash appeared in his dark eyes. + +"I'm a man who always collects what he earns," he told her in a way +which made her heart thump a bit, too, although she would not let him +know that, not for worlds. "There isn't a better collector in all Waloo +than I am." + +"My goodness gracious AND my gracious goodness!" Rebecca Mary seemed +much impressed by Richard, the bill collector. "But you must not read +the future by the past," she cautioned gravely. "I seem to remember that +at college I was told that even Napoleon had his Waterloo." + +"We are not discussing Napoleon Bonaparte but one Richard Deane Cabot," +Richard reminded her severely. + +"Vice president of the First National Bank of Waloo," she nodded as if +to make sure that they were talking of the same Richard Deane Cabot. +"That sounds very important, doesn't it? Important and rich and--and +solid. How does it feel?" she asked with a certain gay insouciance which +was as new to Rebecca Mary as it was becoming. + +He laughed. "Just at present it feels mighty good. I'm very grateful to +the First National Bank. I owe my present job as a motor teacher to that +same bank." + +Rebecca Mary's sober face made a desperate attempt to conceal her amused +smile. "That's true," she said, but her voice was as much of a failure +as a disguise as her sober face. "The two most important buildings in +Waloo are undoubtedly the First National Bank and the Waloo Hotel. At +last!" as the traffic policeman gave them the right of way. "I hope I +don't do the wrong thing now and mortify my teacher as well as myself. +You never can tell what a pupil will do." + +"I'm not afraid of my pupil." Richard was stimulatingly confident. + +"I told you that you were a brave man. There!" Rebecca Mary drew a long +breath. "We are on our way again." She turned impulsively to Richard and +exclaimed from the very depths of her heart: "I can't ever tell you, Mr. +Cabot, how happy you have made me!" + +"I'm glad," was all Richard said, but his eyes flashed again. "It +doesn't take much to make some little girls happy." + +"Don't belittle your own generosity," scolded Rebecca Mary. "You've +given me a lot and you know it." + +Joan ran out to meet them when they returned. + +"Granny is going to let me have a party!" she cried, scarcely able to +believe her news herself. "I'm to choose the guests and the dinner and +everything. I'm going to have you and the Bingham twins and Mr. Peter. +And I can't think whether to have little pig sausages and waffles like +we did the other morning for breakfast or nightingales' tongues like in +the story you read me, Miss Wyman. Granny said sausage and waffles +didn't belong to dinner, but if we had them for dinner they would, +wouldn't they? And she said she was afraid there weren't any +nightingales' tongues in the market, and if there were did I think the +Bingham twins could eat them. Once at home we had a swan with all its +feathers on, and another time, at Echternach, when the kaiser came, we +had a boar's head. Do you think you'd like one of those?" doubtfully. + +Rebecca Mary looked up quickly to see Richard's face when Joan spoke of +the kaiser as a dinner guest at Echternach, but he only looked amused so +Rebecca Mary stooped and kissed the flushed little face. "What I should +like best would be a little spring chicken," she said. + +"Odd little thing, isn't she?" Richard said when Joan had danced away to +ask Granny if the three months' old Bingham twins could eat spring +chicken. "Have you heard from her father?" + +"Not a word. Nor from Mrs. Muldoon. We drove over yesterday, but Mrs. +Lee hadn't heard anything." + +"It was mighty good of you to take her in." Richard spoke as if no one +in the world but Rebecca Mary would have taken charge of a child who +had been left on the door step with a clock, a portrait and a potato +masher. + +"What else could I do?" Rebecca Mary would like to be told how she could +have done anything else. "She was--loaned to me." And she laughed. It +was so easy to laugh at the loan now. + +"All the same it was mighty good of you." He wished she would laugh +again. Like Joan, Richard did admire Rebecca Mary's face when it "broke +into little holes." "I don't know many girls who would have taken care +of a child who had no claim on them." + +"But she did have a claim on me. I was her teacher." And Rebecca Mary +did laugh again. + +Granny was just hanging up the telephone receiver when Rebecca Mary went +into the house. + +"I've been talking to Seven Pines," she said. "Is there any reason why +we shouldn't drive out there to-morrow, Rebecca Mary? Mrs. Swanson just +called me up to tell me that Otillie is going to be married and she +wants me to come out and see her wedding things." + +"A wedding!" Joan jumped up and down on delighted toes. "You'll take me, +Granny Simmons? You'll never leave me in Waloo? You know I've never +been to a wedding. I've only been to church and school and a moving +picture show." + +"Then you certainly shall go to Otillie's wedding. We'll start in the +morning and take our time," Granny suggested to Rebecca Mary. "What do +you say?" + +"I say goody, goody!" exclaimed Rebecca Mary. "You have told me so much +about Seven Pines I'm crazy to see it." + +That night when she went to her room she nodded merrily at the radiant +face of the girl in the big mirror. + +"Well, Rebecca Mary Wyman," she murmured joyously. "You certainly have +turned over a new leaf--a real four-leaf clover leaf. You're having the +time of your young life. You must send Cousin Susan a testimonial for +her memory insurance company!" For she remembered to give the credit for +her new leaf to where credit was due. "You've had more fun since you +took out one of her policies than you ever had before. Gracious, I +should think you had!" + +She was still looking at the happy face in the mirror and dreamily +wondering about the bright new leaf she had turned over when the door +opened and there stood Granny Simmons. She wore her hat and her motor +coat dragged from her arm. In her hand she held a yellow telegram. + +"Come, Rebecca Mary," she said impatiently. "Put on your hat. We'll go +to-night!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"To-night!" Rebecca Mary swung around to look at her. It was almost +midnight, time to go nowhere but to bed, but Granny was not dressed for +bed. What on earth did she mean? + +"I promised Mrs. Swenson I'd come and see Otillie's things," Granny +spoke almost fretfully. "I know what time it is, Rebecca Mary, but if we +don't go before old Peter Simmons comes we'll never leave. He'll want us +to stay at home until he can go with us, and he can never go. He's +always too busy." + +Rebecca Mary's eyes opened wider. She didn't understand why Granny +should want to leave for Seven Pines in almost the middle of the night +if old Peter Simmons was coming home. Rebecca Mary did not know old +Peter Simmons, she did not know very much about him except that he was +the head of a big manufacturing plant and that he was to have a golden +wedding on the twenty-second of July. Granny had always spoken as if she +adored her husband. It seemed strange for her to leave for Seven Pines +if he was coming home. + +"Just put a few things in a suit case," ordered Granny. "We shan't be +away more than a couple of days." + +Rebecca Mary only stared harder. There was an expression on Granny's +face which she did not understand. + +"We'll go to Seven Pines to-night for several reasons," went on Granny +impatiently. "First because I want to go to Seven Pines before my golden +wedding for a special reason, and I promised to take you and Joan there, +and because Otillie Swenson wants us to see her wedding things. If we +don't go before old Peter Simmons comes we won't go at all, as I said. +When he is in Waloo he wants me to be in Waloo. I can gad as much and as +far as I please when he's away but when he is in town I must be home. I +know very well the way he'll stamp in here and say: 'Hello, Kitty! How +are you?' and kiss me and go to bed and sleep like a log until seven in +the morning and then he'll eat his breakfast and go to the factory and I +shan't see him until dinner time. I might as well be at Seven Pines. And +then--I suppose you'll think I'm crazy, Rebecca Mary, but I never was +saner in my life. You would understand perfectly if you had been married +to old Peter Simmons for almost fifty years." The twinkle died out of +her eyes as she spoke of those fifty years, and she borrowed a frown +from Rebecca Mary. + +Rebecca Mary caught her breath and wondered if there could be any +trouble between Granny and old Peter Simmons. Granny had always talked +so proudly of her husband and what he had done to help win the war, +quite as proudly as she talked of young Peter. + +"Oh!" was all she could say, but Granny seemed dissatisfied with that +startled exclamation. + +"Read that!" She thrust the crumpled telegram into Rebecca Mary's hand. + +"'Will be home on the 11.55 what do you want for the jubilee?'" + +Even after she had read the telegram and mechanically divided it into +two sentences, Rebecca Mary did not seem able to understand. + +Granny took the message from her and read it aloud with an indignant +snort. + +"You see?" She looked at Rebecca Mary as if she defied her to say that +the situation was not spread out before her as clearly as the green +vegetables at the grocer's. "'What do you want for the jubilee?'" she +read scornfully. "If that isn't just like old Peter Simmons! For almost +fifty years, Rebecca Mary, I've told that man what I wanted for +anniversary and birthday and Christmas presents. I've even had to tell +him when the anniversaries and the birthdays were. Never once has old +Peter Simmons remembered them for himself. He has never brought me a +present without first asking me what I wanted. He can't even remember +whether I like white meat or dark when we have chicken for dinner. He +asks me every single time just as if it were the first time. And I'm +tired of doing his thinking for him. He knows very well what I want. +We've talked of it often enough. But I feel in my bones that if I see +him to-night and he asks me what I want for my golden wedding I'll say +something that will make trouble. And I don't want any trouble that will +interfere with my golden wedding. I've earned that, and I'm going to +have it. I'm not going to take any chance of an argument to-night. And +the safest way to avoid an argument is to run away from it. We'll go Out +to Seven Pines and look at Otillie Swenson's wedding clothes and then I +may feel different. Put on your hat, Rebecca Mary. I know Peter does a +lot of this only to tease me, but I don't feel like being teased now. +Isn't there something else you should take with you?" she asked, and she +looked vaguely around the room when at last Rebecca Mary was hatted and +packed. + +Rebecca Mary stopped feeling anxious and giggled. It did seem so absurd +for her to run away with Granny from old Mr. Simmons' frantic question. +She could visualize just how frantic old Mr. Simmons was, and she felt +sorry for him. At the same time she didn't blame Granny. It was +irritating to be asked continually what you wanted a person to give you. +Rebecca Mary's mother was something like old Peter Simmons. For weeks +before Christmas she wrote and asked Rebecca Mary what she wanted when +all the time she knew that Rebecca Mary would have to take what she +needed. + +"Isn't there something else you should take?" Granny asked helplessly as +Rebecca Mary put her in her motor coat and straightened her hat. + +"There's Joan?" suggested Rebecca Mary, trying to keep her face from +breaking into the little holes Joan liked. + +"Of course." Granny pulled herself away before Rebecca Mary could button +her coat. "We can't leave Joan until we find her father. You call her, +while I explain to Pierson." + +Joan was an interrogation point when she was wakened and told that she +was to go to Seven Pines at once. She caught the picture of her father +and mother from the table but Rebecca Mary was glad to see that she left +the potato masher where it was. + +"I don't care as much for it as I did," Joan confessed, a little ashamed +of her fickleness. "But I just have to take the picture and the clock, +too." + +"Aren't you ready?" called Granny. "It's half past now." And as if to +prove that she was right Grandfather clock in the hall boomed the half +hour. It sounded very solemn, and Joan slipped her free hand into +Rebecca Mary's hand. "It is fortunate you have learned to drive the car, +Rebecca Mary," Granny said as they went down the stairs. "Karl left this +morning, you know, and the new man isn't to come until to-morrow. We'll +take the small car, the five passenger. You can drive it, can't you?" +she stopped on the last step to ask. + +"I hope so." That was as much as Rebecca Mary could promise for it was +one thing to drive a car over a smooth boulevard in broad daylight and +with a helping hand at her elbow, and a vastly different thing to drive +a car over an unknown country road in the moonlight and without a +helping hand. Rebecca Mary was really scared to pieces, but Granny was +so confident that Rebecca Mary didn't like to confess how scared she +was. + +She looked to see that there were gasoline and water for Richard had +told her never to take out a car without seeing that it had plenty of +food and drink. "You'll save yourself a lot of trouble in the end," he +had promised, and, goodness knows, Rebecca Mary didn't want any trouble. + +"You're taking a lot of time," fretted Granny from the tonneau where she +sat with Joan. "And we haven't a minute to waste. It's a quarter to +twelve now. If old Peter Simmons finds us in this garage we'll never see +Otillie Swenson's wedding things." + +"I'm ready now." Rebecca Mary wiped her hands on a piece of waste and +slipped in behind the wheel. + +They had to stop at the house for Pierson was waving a small basket. + +"I put up a few sandwiches for you, Mrs. Simmons." She was breathless +from the haste she had made. "You'll be hungry before you get to Seven +Pines." + +"That's very thoughtful of you, Pierson," commended Granny as Pierson +put the basket on the seat beside Rebecca Mary. "Now, remember, you are +not to tell Mr. Simmons when we went. Just say that I am on a motor trip +with a couple of young friends. And don't tell him we are at Seven +Pines. If he doesn't know where I am he can't keep asking me irritating +questions. Now, my dear, straight ahead until you come to the end of the +boulevard. Yes, Joan, it is very wrong to run away from home in the +middle of the night and you are never to do it until you are sixty-eight +years old and not then unless your husband will annoy you by asking what +you want for a golden wedding present." + +"I won't, Granny." Joan promised solemnly, although she knew that she +would never live to be sixty-eight. Why, it would take years and years +and years. But it was enough to make a little girl feel solemn to be +wakened in the middle of the night and told to get up and run away from +a question. No wonder Joan shivered. "And I know why you are running +away," she went on eagerly. "It isn't from any question, is it? It's to +find the young heart you are always talking about. I'm going to look for +my father. Why are you going, Miss Wyman?" she leaned forward to ask. + +Alone on the front seat Rebecca Mary laughed. "I reckon I'll find a +payment on my memory insurance," she said, and over her shoulder she +told Granny of the policy which Cousin Susan had persuaded her to take +out and which was to be payable at any time during her old age. And +Granny, who had reached her old age, thought that it was a most +wonderful and business-like arrangement. + +"Your Cousin Susan is exactly right. Young people begin all their +thoughts with 'I shall,' but old people think 'I did' or 'I had.'" + +"I'm young then," Joan announced with much satisfaction, "for I always +think I shall." + +"So do I!" Rebecca Mary was quite astonished to find that she did. "How +far is it to Seven Pines, Mrs. Simmons?" + +"Sixty-three miles from our front steps. Listen--is that the train? I +reckon we are safe now." And she leaned back with a sigh of relief. + +"Sixty-three miles!" gasped Rebecca Mary, who never had driven one mile +by herself. But there is always a first time, and she remembered that +she would have to drive only a mile at a time, and anyway it would be +Granny who would be responsible for what would happen. + +They did not talk much after the first few miles. Joan fell asleep and +even Granny dozed although she really couldn't sleep for Rebecca Mary +had to ask her every few minutes the way to Seven Pines. Long before +they reached the end of the boulevard Rebecca Mary forgot to be +frightened or nervous. She found it rather thrilling to run away from +old Mr. Simmons' question in the moonlight. They seemed to have the +world to themselves for they met no one. Rebecca Mary thought she should +like to go on for ever and ever. + +She would never forget this ride, and she chuckled to herself. When she +was as old as Granny she would remember how they had fled from old Mr. +Simmons' irritating question. And thinking of old Mr. Simmons, whom she +had never seen, made her remember young Mr. Simmons, whom she admired so +much. What would he think when he came to-morrow, no, to-day, and found +her gone? And Mr. Cabot? She had promised to drive out to the Country +Club with Richard that very afternoon after banking hours. Richard was +going to teach her to play golf. She was sorry that Granny had not given +her time to write a little note, to write two little notes. + +But she would not be away long. Granny had said only a few days. And she +could telephone to Richard and to Peter from Seven Pines the very first +thing, before she even looked at Otillie Swenson's wedding things. She +hoped Peter and Richard would miss her for she knew that she would miss +them. A month ago she had known neither of them. And now---- + +Young Peter Simmons was the most fascinating man. She flushed as her +thoughts strayed back to young Peter, and she wondered if the day ever +would come when he would ask his wife what she wanted for a birthday or +an anniversary present. She knew that Richard Cabot would never ask. He +would never have to ask for he would make a note of the date in his +memorandum book and would be ready with his gift on the proper day. +Young Peter and Richard were as different as a vanilla ice and a cherry +pie. She liked them both. She couldn't think which she did like the +best. Peter had fascinated her ever since she had seen him eating fresh +tomato sandwiches with such gusto at the Waloo, and Richard did give her +such a comfortable, well cared for, warm feeling. It was like being +wrapped in a down comforter on a winter night to be with Richard. Hello, +here they were at another cross road. Should she turn to the right or +the left or keep straight ahead? She would have to ask Granny. + +But when she turned she saw that Granny was fast asleep beside Joan. +Joan's sleek little head was on Granny's shoulder and Granny's gray head +was resting on Joan's black hair. They looked so comfortable cuddled +close together that Rebecca Mary had not the heart to disturb them. And +anyway what difference did it make when they reached Seven Pines? + +"She'll be awake in a few minutes," she thought lazily. "And in the +meantime I'll stretch myself and take a sandwich." + +She slipped from her seat to draw a rug over the two sleepers and then +stretched herself luxuriously before she took the place beside the wheel +where she would have more room to stretch while she ate her sandwich. + +"Chicken salad," she murmured approvingly when she opened a package. + +What a strange world it was, she thought as she lounged back in Mrs. +Peter Simmons' car and ate Mrs. Peter Simmons' chicken salad sandwiches. +A month ago and she would have hooted at the person who would have +suggested that she ever would do either. She never would have had the +chance to do either she acknowledged if it had not been for Joan the +young Countess Ernach de Befort, she laughed. Joan was a dear if she was +sometimes a nuisance. How cross and horrid she had been when Joan had +announced that she had been loaned to her. Why, if it had not been for +Joan she would be fast asleep this minute in her old walnut bed in her +shabby little room in Mifflin. She would never in the world be eating +chicken salad sandwiches in Mrs. Peter Simmons' car, with Mrs. Simmons +and Joan asleep in the tonneau. She was sleepy herself, and she yawned. +But she could not go to sleep. She was on guard and--and what happens +when sentries go to sleep at their post? + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +"I'm hungry!" + +Joan's plaintive wail woke Rebecca Mary, and she opened her eyes and +then sat up very straight. + +"Why--why----" she stammered, rubbing her sleepy eyes to make sure that +they were telling her the truth. "Where are we?" + +For they were no longer under a star-studded moon-illumined sky. They +were in a rough shed with a roof so close to Rebecca Mary's head that +she could have touched it if she had stretched up her arm. She looked at +hungry Joan and then at Granny, who was rubbing her eyes, too, and +feeling for the glasses which should hang around her neck. + +"This isn't Seven Pines!" Granny declared crossly, as one occasionally +speaks when roused from sound slumber. "Where have you brought us, +Rebecca Mary?" + +Rebecca Mary's bewildered face turned a lovely pink and the corners of +her red mouth tilted up. "Then it wasn't a dream," she said softly. "It +wasn't a dream!" she told Granny triumphantly. + +"What wasn't a dream?" Granny's voice still had a bit of an edge to it. +"Don't ask conundrums the first thing in the morning, Rebecca Mary. What +wasn't a dream?" + +"Well," began Rebecca Mary, and her voice sounded as if she wasn't quite +sure of her story herself. "You know you went to sleep in the car last +night, and when we came to a cross road I didn't know which way to turn. +I hated to waken you, so I ate a couple of sandwiches while I waited for +you to waken yourself. Suddenly I heard some one laugh and say: 'Hello, +I thought I knew this old boat. Where do you think you are going?' And +there was Mr. Simmons----" + +"Not old Peter Simmons?" exclaimed Granny excitedly. "It couldn't be! He +was to be in Waloo at eleven-fifty-five. He couldn't have been at the +cross roads!" + +"It was young Mr. Simmons," Rebecca Mary hastened to explain. "He was in +a roadster with another man. I told him we were going to Seven Pines, +and he wanted to know why we were going at night, why we didn't wait for +morning. And I said it would be so warm in the morning. I didn't know +whether you wanted him to know----" + +"Indeed he may know. I don't care who knows," declared Granny +generously. + +"And he said he knew the way to Seven Pines, and he got in our car and +took the wheel, and we started again. But the road was so long and so +white and the car ran so smoothly and we didn't talk much of any, and I +was so glad to have him drive that I must have dozed off, too. Anyway, I +just remember that we turned in at a big gate where Peter talked to a +man. I thought of course that it was Seven Pines. And then we went a +little further, I suppose into this shed, and Peter got out and said he +would see about something and--That's all I remember," she finished +abruptly. + +"But that's perfect nonsense," insisted Granny. "What would Peter be +doing at the cross roads at that time of night? You must have been +dreaming, Rebecca Mary. And I wasn't asleep all the time. I was awake +off and on, and I remember now, that at one time I thought I heard you +talking to some one. But it couldn't have been to Peter. You must have +been dreaming, Rebecca Mary!" + +She was so very positive that she made Rebecca Mary wonder if she could +have gone to sleep at her post. It didn't seem possible that she would +have closed her eyes when she had the responsibility of Granny and Joan +on her hands but sleep can sometimes be a wily enemy. It isn't always a +helpful friend. But if slumber had stolen insidiously over her how had +they reached the old shed? Her story furnished the only possible +explanation, and yet Granny frowned and said that her story was +nonsense. + +"Are you afraid?" whimpered Joan, suddenly clutching her arm. "Shall I +be afraid, Granny? Are you afraid, Miss Wyman?" + +"I'm scared to death!" But Rebecca Mary laughed softly, and she put her +arm around Joan. "But it is because I went to sleep on guard. Granny +said I did. I should have stayed awake to watch. But you needn't be +frightened, Joan. There is nothing to be afraid of, is there, Granny?" + +"Nothing at all." Granny made the endorsement strong and prompt. "But we +might as well look around and make sure." + +But when she stepped from the car she had to catch hold of the door or +she would have fallen for her limbs were cramped and stiff from spending +the night in the tonneau. + +"If you live to be sixty-eight, Joan," she explained a little +impatiently as she straightened herself, "you will have learned that +there is nothing in the world to be afraid of. Come and let us see if +we can find some breakfast. I don't suppose whoever brought us here +plans to starve us to death." + +They presented rather a disheveled and crumpled appearance as they stood +in the open doorway of the shed and looked across the green grass which +ran without stopping to the green hedge a half of a mile away. What was +on the other side of the hedge was kept a secret by the arbor vitæ. Near +the shed the grass was marked by many wheel tracks. There was no one to +be seen, and Granny went bravely forth with Rebecca Mary on her right +and Joan clinging to her left hand. + +"The grass is wet." Granny looked down at her shoe. "Was there any rain +in your dream?" And she laughed at Rebecca Mary's puzzled face. + +"I don't know." Rebecca Mary's voice was as puzzled as her face. + +They passed a huge stone barn and several small sheds but there was no +one about them. From somewhere they could hear the sound of a gasoline +engine. Puff--puff it said, but the silly words conveyed absolutely no +information to Rebecca Mary. + +When they rounded the corner of the barn they faced a great stone house +which might have begun its existence as a giant's bandbox, it was so +very big and square. But some one had added wings on either side so +that now it looked like a home and sprawled so hospitably among the +shrubbery that it seemed to call: "Come in, come in." + +Granny gave a funny little exclamation when she saw it, and she hurried +around to the front, where she stood and stared at the house and then at +the formal garden with its pool and borders and its pergola, which ran +all the way from the west wing to the river bank. The barn and sheds +were on the other side of the house and, at some distance. In front the +trimly shaven lawn was broken by a driveway which slipped in from the +high road half a mile away to encircle and say "howdydo" to a huge +flower bed which flaunted its red cannas before the wide front terrace. +There were two tennis courts on one side of the driveway, down near the +secretive hedge. + +"God bless my soul!" gasped Granny, as she looked around her. The wind +blew her gray hair about her face, which looked a bit pinched in the +strong morning light. "Whose place do you think this is?" + +"The beautiful princess's!" Joan jumped up and down in delight. "It's +too pretty to belong to an ogre." + +"It's Riverside, Rebecca Mary!" But as that name conveyed nothing to +Rebecca Mary, Granny gave her more information. "Joshua Cabot's +grandfather's old home. Did you ever! It must have been Joshua instead +of Peter who came along and found us. But we certainly haven't anything +to be afraid of now. We'll go right in and ask Joshua for breakfast, and +then we'll scold him for bringing us out of our way, and then we'll go +on to Seven Pines." + +Rebecca Mary did not think that she could have confused young Peter +Simmons and Joshua Cabot, but she did not say so as she followed Granny +and Joan up the steps and in through the open door. There was no one in +the broad hall but Joshua Cabot's great grandfather and grandmother and +they hung quietly on the wall in old gilt frames. No one was in the big +dining room to which Granny turned, but some one had been there for the +table was laid for breakfast. Covers were placed for three. Granny drew +a chair from the table and sat down before a plate of tempting +strawberries. + +"I'm old enough to take privileges," she said. "I hope there are more +strawberries, but if Joshua Cabot has been playing a practical joke on +an old lady he should pay for it. Come, children, and eat your +breakfast." + +Joan obeyed with hungry alacrity, but Rebecca Mary hesitated, wondering +if she dared. But the strawberries looked so delicious, Granny and Joan +enjoyed them so heartily that Rebecca Mary found that she did dare. In a +very few minutes there was not a strawberry left on that table. Then +Granny rang the bell for what was to follow, but no one answered it. She +rang again, and when again there was no response Joan jumped up and ran +into the kitchen. She came back in a minute, big-eyed and important, to +report that there was no one, no one at all, in the kitchen. Granny +pushed back her chair. + +"The maid has probably gone out for the eggs," she said with unruffled +serenity. "I expect Joshua insists that they shall be perfectly fresh. +While we are waiting, Rebecca Mary, come into the parlor. I want to show +you a portrait of Joshua Cabot's great-grandmother. She was Richard +Cabot's great-grandmother, too, you know." + +Rebecca Mary rose obediently and followed Granny and Joan across the +hall and into the parlor, which ran the full length of the house and +whose many French windows opened on the formal garden and furnished many +charming pictures of the river and the low hills beyond. And the +sweet-faced young girl in a gauzy white frock and with a pink rose in +her long slender fingers was Richard Cabot's great-grandmother. Rebecca +Mary quite forgot that the sweet-faced girl was also Joshua Cabot's +great-grandmother as she gazed at her. There were several other pictures +to which Granny called Rebecca Mary's attention, but always Rebecca +Mary's eyes strayed back to the portrait. It seemed to call to her in +some strange fashion. Suddenly they heard a clatter, and a door slammed. + +"There are the eggs!" exclaimed Granny with a sigh of relief. "I suppose +they will be ready in three minutes. Dear, dear, it is very plain that +Sallie isn't here. She would never put up with such careless service, +not for a minute." + +She was interrupted by a roar, a very bellow, which made them draw close +together. + +"Here!" cried a harsh voice which sounded for all the world like the +voice of the Big Bear. "Who has been eating my strawberries?" + +The words rang through the hall and came into the big parlor with +inhospitable roughness. There was a startled, an awed silence. + +"That," whispered Rebecca Mary, as Joan huddled against her, "doesn't +sound a bit like Mr. Cabot." + +"It sounds like an ogre," Joan was sadly disappointed because it hadn't +sounded like a prince. "It sounds exactly like an ogre!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Almost immediately there were steps in the hall, and a man stood in the +doorway. He did not look unlike an ogre for he was short and fat and had +a round red face which was topped with a shock of grizzled hair and +bisected by a bristling grizzled mustache. Between the hair and the +mustache were two piercing blue eyes which seemed to bore right into +Granny and Rebecca Mary and Joan. Behind the short fat man were two tall +slim young men, who seemed very much surprised and pleased to find that +guests had arrived so unexpectedly. The short fat man looked angry as +well as surprised, and he showed no pleasure at all. + +"My country!" he growled, still playing very realistically the role of +Father Bear. "Where did you come from? How the dickens did you get in? +And what the deuce do you want?" + +Granny did not answer him because she never had been spoken to in quite +that tone and manner. Men always approached Mrs. Peter Simmons of Waloo +with courteous deference, and this isolated case of gruff rudeness left +her speechless. Rebecca Mary could not speak because a hot indignation +clutched her by the throat and made it impossible for her to utter a +word. It was Joan who mastered her tongue. She looked fearlessly up at +the frowning ogre and answered his last question to the best of her +knowledge. + +"We want a young heart and a big payment on a memory insurance and my +daddy," she announced clearly and somewhat peremptorily, as if she were +accustomed to receive what she wanted. + +If Joan had not mentioned her daddy the ogre would have thought they +were all three mad, but he could understand a daddy if he could not +comprehend a young heart or a big memory insurance payment. + +"My country!" He breathed heavily and looked first at the young man at +his right shoulder and then at the young man at his left shoulder. But +they never looked at him at all. They were staring at Rebecca Mary in +her crumpled white frock and her pink sweater. + +"How did you get in here?" demanded the ogre, and it was plain to each +one of them that he would have an answer, an intelligent answer, at once +or know the reason why. + +Granny drew herself up and looked at him with cold disdain. She did not +like his manner, and as he wore big round glasses he must have seen that +she didn't. + +"We don't know," she told him in a very frigid voice. + +"Don't know?" he repeated, almost sure now that they were mad. Surely an +old woman and a young woman would know how they had entered a house if a +child didn't. He excused Joan on account of her age but he did not +excuse Granny nor Rebecca Mary. "You must know!" he told them with that +unpleasant dictatorial impatient voice, although the man at his right +touched his arm suggestively. + +"Don't say 'must' to me!" Granny rather lost her temper. There is no +doubt that bad manners are contagious. "Where is Mr. Cabot? I will make +my explanation to him, although I think he owes me an apology." The ogre +might have been but a speck of dust on the threshold from the way she +looked beyond him. + +"Mr. Cabot isn't here." The ogre's high and mighty manner began to slip +from him. + +"This is his house," began Granny, as if a man were always to be found +at home. + +"Not now----" + +"He hasn't sold it?" Granny couldn't wait for him to put a period to his +sentence. "Joshua Cabot never would sell his great-grandfather's house." +She was so sure that he wouldn't that she stopped being indignant or +cold and was just frankly curious. + +The ogre looked as if he were not sure that it was any of her business +what Joshua Cabot would do before he made a grudging explanation. "No, +Mr. Cabot hasn't sold Riverside, but he has turned it over to us. We are +making a very important experiment for the government and we cannot be +disturbed." + +Granny's manner changed at once. It became quite friendly. "In that case +I shall tell you how we happened to disturb you." And she did tell them +that she and Rebecca Mary and Joan had left Waloo in their automobile +the night before and this morning they had found themselves in a shed at +Riverside. But she never said a word of Rebecca Mary's dream. + +"But that's a ridiculous story," objected the ogre. He didn't believe a +word she had said, for he had his own reasons for being suspicious of +strangers at Riverside. "You must know who brought you here. Why should +any one bring you? How did you pass the guard at the gate?" + +Granny looked at Rebecca Mary questioningly, but as Rebecca Mary only +seemed bewildered, she shrugged her shoulders. It was not for her to +explain the whys of other people. "I am Mrs. Peter Simmons of Waloo," +she said with great dignity. "And people believe what I tell them." + +"Mrs. Peter Simmons!" The ogre found it hard to believe that was who +Granny was. "My country!" he muttered under his breath. "Mrs. Peter +Simmons--of Waloo?" Granny nodded stiffly. "Mrs. Peter Simmons!" He +didn't seem able to make himself understand that she was Mrs. Peter +Simmons, and his voice grew more like the voice of a human being with +every word. "My country! Mrs. Simmons, of course. I don't doubt the +truth of what you say," he stumbled on, "but this is strange, very +strange. I can't understand why----" He stopped abruptly and no one said +a word. It was so very plain that he could not understand. "I am +surprised to see you, Mrs. Simmons." He made a fresh start, and no one +questioned the truth of that statement, either. + +"Have you had your breakfast? Ben will make you some fresh----" His +voice choked again and he had to swallow hard before he could bring it +up from his boots. "I am Major Martingale of the engineer corps of the +United States Army," he announced explosively. That was the only fact he +was sure of just then, and he made the most of it. + +Granny was not of the type which bears malice and the strawberries had +not conformed to her old-fashioned idea of what a breakfast should be +nor satisfied her appetite, so she accepted the white flag which he was +holding out so ungraciously. + +"Thank you, we should like some toast and coffee and perhaps a fresh +egg. I rather think we ate your strawberries. We should have eaten the +rest of your breakfast if Ben had answered the bell." + +"Ben went over to the farmhouse with a message to Erickson," ventured +the young man at the left of Major Martingale, glad to have a chance to +speak. "You didn't find any one to answer the bell, did you?" He seemed +quite grieved that he had not been there to answer it. + +"Not a soul. It was most mysterious. I dare say it was all right but I +should never approve of leaving unlocked a house with as many valuable +things in it as this house has." Granny glanced around the room with its +many souvenirs of pioneer days. "The front door stood wide open. I am +sorry if we disturbed you, but if you will give us something more +substantial than strawberries to eat we will go on and leave you to your +experiment." + +Major Martingale tugged at his mustache and looked at her in surprise. +"That's the trouble, you know," he rumbled. "You can't go on." + +"Can't go!" Rebecca Mary found her tongue, and the men behind Major +Martingale smiled pleasantly. They liked Rebecca Mary's voice as soon as +they heard it. They thought it harmonized with her eyes. "Why can't we +go? Is there anything the matter with the car?" She wouldn't be +surprised if there was. She never had driven a car alone by moonlight +over a country road before. Perhaps she had done something to it. + +"I don't know anything about your car," fussed Major Martingale +unhappily. "But you should have known, the guard at the gate could have +told you, that no one is allowed to enter Riverside now without a +permit, and no one who enters is allowed to leave. No one!" He exploded +again. + +Granny and Rebecca Mary stared at him and then at each other. They +didn't believe him. It sounded too ridiculous. + +[Illustration: "DO YOU MEAN TO TELL US THAT WE CAN'T GO?"] + +"Do you mean to tell us that we can't go when it isn't our fault we're +here? We didn't mean to come here. We wanted to go to Seven Pines!" +exclaimed Rebecca Mary when she could speak, which wasn't for a full +second. + +"I mean just that." Major Martingale's voice sounded as if it were made +from the best adamant and was warranted to withstand any pressure. It +would be useless to coax or to cry. "I told you we are making a most +important experiment here for the government." Surely they could +understand the government. "A most important experiment," he repeated, +swelling proudly. "One that will mean a great deal to the whole world. +Germany has heard something about it and has been trying, is still +trying, to get hold of the inventor and his idea. If she could it would +go a long way toward giving her back her place in the commercial world, +for it will be a vital necessity for every country. And we don't propose +to let Germany have it. That is why we came down here to work and why we +have a guard at the gate and why we forbid any one who comes here to go +away. German propaganda hasn't stopped. Any one who employs labor will +tell you that, and the socialists, the I. W. W. and the other agitators +are fighting a new war for Germany. We chose a few loyal workmen, men +whom we could absolutely trust, and brought them down here where they +can't be influenced and coaxed away by any agitator or German spy. You +are an American, I suppose, Mrs. Simmons, but your companions, what are +they?" + +Granny was about to exclaim indignantly that they were Americans, too, +when she glanced at Joan. Just what was Joan? Joan answered for herself. + +"I must be an American," she said slowly, "for I'm honest and brave and +true and free and equal. And that's what Americans are. My daddy said +so." + +"And he's dead right," murmured the man behind Major Martingale's right +shoulder. + +Major Martingale only snorted. "We shall try and make you comfortable as +long as you are here," he promised with a groan. "But you can see we +aren't going to take any chance of a leak. You'll have to stay until we +are through with our work." + +"Fiddlesticks!" exclaimed Granny with more force than elegance. "We'll +finish our breakfast, and then I'll telephone to Joshua Cabot and ask +him if we can't go to Seven Pines." + +"You can't use the telephone," Major Martingale told her sharply. +"Evidently you don't understand that Riverside is cut off from the world +at present." + +Granny stopped on her way to the dining room. "Does he actually mean +that? Is he telling us the truth?" She appealed to the two young men, +but they only nodded their heads. "Mayn't I even telephone to my maid +for clothes?" Granny asked almost feebly. + +"You may not." Major Martingale was glad that she was beginning to +understand. "You may give me any message, and if I consider it safe and +necessary I may send it on. While you are not actually prisoners you +can't leave Riverside, and you can't communicate with any one. It isn't +my fault," he added hurriedly. "I didn't bring you here. I don't want +you here! Mr. Simmons shouldn't have let you come!" + +"Mr. Simmons doesn't know anything about it." + +"He doesn't!" The major was all suspicion again. "I'll send him word. +I'll----" + +Granny caught his sleeve. "No, you shan't send him word!" she exclaimed +quickly. "He'd--he'd laugh at us," she explained stumblingly, and a red +flush crept into her cheeks. "You see we started for our country place. +Mr. Simmons always said women couldn't be trusted and he'd tease us so. +Please don't tell him. We'll be model prisoners if you won't, won't we?" +She appealed to Rebecca Mary. "If you do tell him you may wish you had +never been born," she prophesied with a smile, but there was something +behind the smile which made Major Martingale mop his brow and look +unhappy. + +"So long as you obey orders I'll keep still," he promised unwillingly. +"I can't say more than that. Mr. Marshall, will you see that these +ladies have breakfast. I can't waste any more time. I shan't wait for +breakfast. I've lost my appetite." And he waddled away before any one +could say a word. + +Granny looked after him all ready to say several words if he would only +stay and listen to them, but as he never looked back, she dropped into +the nearest chair and laughed until the tears stood in her eyes. Rebecca +Mary was frightened and ran to her. + +"There, there," she said soothingly. She was sure that Granny had +hysterics, and she did not know what to do for hysterics. She wished she +had taken the First Aid last winter when she had a chance. "It's all +right," she insisted, although she was not at all sure that it was all +right. + +Granny pushed her away. "It's--it's----" she began, and stopped to wipe +the tears from her eyes. "Oh, my old heart!" And she put her hand to her +side and looked at them helplessly. + +Joan ran to her. "Is your old heart getting younger, Granny?" she asked +anxiously. + +Granny patted her cheek. "I expect that is it. My old heart is getting +younger. No wonder I have a queer feeling in it." + +"Better have some coffee," suggested Mr. Marshall. He was young enough +to regard food as a panacea for every ill. He introduced them to Mr. +George Barton, an electrical engineer, and explained that he was an +engineer, too, a chemical one, before he persuaded Granny to return to +the dining room, where Ben brought fresh coffee and eggs and toast. + +And while they ate their breakfast Mr. Marshall and Mr. Barton told them +that Major Martingale was quite right, most important things were being +done at Riverside. + +"We're all here until the experiment is proved a success or a failure," +went on Mr. Marshall. "It may be for a week and it may be for two +months. No one goes out but the Big Boss. He went away last night." + +"What is this great experiment?" asked Rebecca Mary between two bites of +soft boiled egg. + +"I'm sorry but we can't breathe a word about it. We scarcely speak of it +among ourselves," regretted Mr. Marshall. He looked as if he would be +glad to tell them if he only could. "The Major is right, old Germany is +moving heaven and earth to get it from us." + +Granny sniffed. "H-m," she murmured. "And you think we are going to stay +here indefinitely while this Major Martingale--Major Cross would be a +better name--finds out whether he is a fool or a genius?" + +George Barton laughed joyously. "That isn't exactly the way I'd state +it, but it's the way it is, isn't it, Wallie? You see the thing is +frightfully important. We're scared to death for fear the Germans may +get a hint. We all took an iron clad oath, but the Huns are so +devilishly clever you never can tell how or when they will reach your +workmen. It isn't so bad here. We don't have such worse times, good +quarters, fine eats, plenty to read, a victrola and a grand piano and +tennis. Do you play tennis?" he asked Rebecca Mary, who was staring at +him with big round eyes. She couldn't believe yet that it was true, that +she and Granny and Joan were prisoners in Riverside. + +"You may call yourself prisoners if you wish," it almost seemed as if +Wallace Marshall had read her thoughts. "But we shall think of you as +honored guests. And, believe me, I'm glad you came," he said fervently. +"You've no idea how you will be appreciated." + +Granny pushed back her chair and regarded him with a strange glance. +Evidently she did not care for his appreciation. + +"Oh!" Rebecca Mary pushed back her chair, too. She did not know what she +feared Granny might do or say. + +"Rebecca Mary," to her great relief Granny chuckled as she turned to +her, "did you ever hear of such a thing? I reckon I've managed to get +away from that question better than I planned. No one can come here to +ask me what I want for a jubilee present." And she laughed before she +turned to Wallie Marshall and George Barton. "We'll stay for a while," +she went on quite as if she were at the seashore arranging dates with +the manager of a popular hotel instead of in prison talking to an +assistant jailer. "But you will have to finish your experiment by the +twentieth. I have an important engagement on the twenty-second. A very +important engagement. We can't stay a minute after the twentieth. And +Major Martingale will have to explain to Mrs. Swenson why we didn't come +to see Otillie's wedding things." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +With a broad smile Ben led the way up the stairs, talking all the time. + +"Ah suah will be glad to hab ladies about agin," he chuckled. "Genelmen +is all right in der way. Ah hain't got nothin' to say agin genelmen as +genelmen, but no one can say they is so picturefying as de ladies. You +better take the fambly rooms, Mrs. Simmons. There hain't nobody been +usin' of 'em an' you'll find 'em mighty pleasant whether you looks out +or in. An' they's allus ready." + +He opened the door of the suite which occupied the west wing, and +Rebecca Mary gave a little exclamation of delight. She quite agreed with +Ben. The rooms were mighty pleasant in their pretty furnishings, while +from the windows one looked over the formal garden to the river which +flowed so peacefully between its two banks. + +"How perfectly beautiful!" she murmured. + +"Yes, they are very good cells," agreed Granny. "I'm sure we shall be as +comfortable as prisoners should be. Bring in our suit cases, please, +Ben. Doesn't it seem restful and quiet, Rebecca Mary? I believe it will +be good for us to rest here for a few days. It is too bad we won't see +Otillie's wedding things, but that isn't our fault as I shall explain to +Mrs. Swenson. You heard me tell that young man that we might stay until +the twentieth? That was just a blind. We'll only stay until we want to +go and then we'll slip away." + +"How?" laughed Rebecca Mary, still hanging enchanted over the garden. +"Shall I twist a sheet and lower you from the window?" + +"I don't think it will be necessary to spoil good sheets," Granny +laughed, too, perhaps at the picture Rebecca Mary had painted of a +golden wedding bride dangling by a twisted sheet from a second story +window. "I shall find a more comfortable way. You know, Rebecca Mary," +she said in an undertone so that Joan, who was trying all of the faucets +in the bathroom, would not hear her, "I'm not just sure about things +here. That story may be all right, it may be true that Major Martingale +has brought a lot of men down here to work out some experiment for the +government and he may be afraid that some hint may leak out to the +Germans, but it sounds very queer to me. I can't imagine what the +experiment could be. And Joshua Cabot has never hinted to me that he +has loaned Riverside to any one. So I think we had better not make any +fuss but just stay quietly until we can learn something definite, and +then if the story isn't true we can slip away and warn Joshua that queer +things are happening here." + +"Why, Granny Simmons!" Rebecca Mary had never thought that Major +Martingale's story could be anything but true. "How shall we find out?" + +"We shall keep our eyes and ears wide open. First we must make them +trust us and then--and then, Rebecca Mary, we can learn the truth. Don't +ask me how again," as she saw the question trembling on Rebecca Mary's +lips, "for I don't know. But we shall, and until we do we'll just forget +about it. I declare I feel younger than I have for years. But I'm tired. +I didn't sleep well last night. If you take my advice now, children, +you'll try these beds and see how soft they are. I am sure I feel the +need of at least forty good winks." + +"Oh, I couldn't sleep now." Rebecca Mary was too excited even to think +of sleep. She would rather go down to the garden where the big pool +showed the blue sky how becoming the fleecy white clouds were. The +garden was far more alluring to her just then than the softest of beds. + +"I couldn't, either!" exclaimed Joan. "Must I?" + +Granny did not insist, and after she was tucked under the silken +comforter Rebecca Mary and Joan went down the stairs hand in hand. They +ran through the open door and found a surprise on the other side, a +surprise over six feet long. + +"Hello!" exclaimed the surprise, all a-grin. + +"Hello!" replied Rebecca Mary somewhat feebly, and then she laughed for +the surprise was young Peter Simmons. If Rebecca Mary's fingers had not +been in her pocket with the four-leaf clover locket she would not have +believed her two gray eyes. "Then it wasn't a dream!" she said +triumphantly. + +"Wasn't it?" Peter looked at Rebecca Mary as she stood before him in her +crumpled white frock and pink sweater. Peter never saw that the frock +was crumpled. He only saw the two shining gray eyes, the smiling red +mouth and the two pink cheeks which helped to make Rebecca Mary's +radiant face. + +"I told Granny that you found us last night and she said I was +dreaming," she explained more soberly. "Have you come to rescue us +again?" It would be so romantic if the four-leaf clover had sent young +Peter Simmons to their rescue a second time. + +"Rescue you?" He looked puzzled, for Rebecca Mary did not look as if she +were in any danger as she stood there in front of the door. "I want to +apologize for leaving you in the old shed," he went on. "It started to +rain just before we turned in here last night and the shed was the +nearest place. Yes, I picked you up, it wasn't any dream. Granny was +wrong. I had received a hurry up call to come out at once and was on my +way in my little gas wagon with a man from the factory when at the cross +roads, a mile and half back, I came across two women and a half----" + +"Was the half me?" demanded Joan, dancing up and down. "Do you mean me +when you say half a woman?" + +"I certainly do," smiled Peter. "One woman and a half were sound asleep +and the other woman was just about asleep. The cross roads didn't seem +the safest place for a nap so I left my machine to the mechanic and took +the wheel of yours. I didn't dare take you to the house until I spoke to +old Martingale but when I met him he wouldn't listen to my story but +marched me off to the shop for a minute. The minute grew into sixty +before I could get away, and when I went back to the shed you had gone. +How is Granny? The idea of a child of her age going to sleep in a motor +car thirty miles from home. Any one could have come along and carried +you off!" It almost sounded as if Peter was scolding them. + +"I said you brought us here, I remember perfectly now, but Granny +wouldn't believe me. Did you know that we would have to stay for ever?" + +"For ever?" Peter didn't understand. + +With Joan's assistance Rebecca Mary explained that no one who came to +Riverside could leave, and Peter threw back his head and laughed and +laughed. + +"Good work," he chuckled. "I guess I've eliminated old Dick Cabot for a +while. He always was in the way in Waloo. But why in the dickens were +you and Granny and this half woman," he pinched Joan's cheek, "going to +Seven Pines in the middle of the night?" Evidently he had forgotten the +explanation Rebecca Mary had given him in the middle of the night. + +"Your grandmother decided rather suddenly to leave home," Rebecca Mary +dimpled as she remembered how suddenly Granny had decided, "and she +asked me to drive her to Seven Pines. I was scared to pieces but I +couldn't refuse." + +"That's very good as far as it goes, but it doesn't explain why Granny +had to start in the middle of the night, why she couldn't wait until +morning?" + +Rebecca Mary hesitated until she remembered that Granny had said she +didn't care if Peter knew, she didn't care if every one knew. + +"I suppose I may tell you," the corners of her mouth tilted up. "She +wanted to run away from a question." + +"A question?" Peter looked hopelessly bewildered. "Why should any one, +least of all an old woman of sixty-eight, run away from a question?" + +Even when Rebecca Mary had explained what question it was which had made +Granny abandon her comfortable home in Waloo at midnight Peter didn't +seem to understand, and he said so. + +"That's because you're a man!" Rebecca Mary was very scornful of a man's +power of comprehension. "I understand perfectly, and I don't blame +Granny a bit. It must be perfectly maddening to have your husband ask +you whether you want light meat or dark every time a chicken comes to +the table or what you want for a birthday or a Christmas present. I +don't blame Granny," she repeated for fear he had not heard her the +first time she said it. + +"Neither do I when you say it like that," Peter agreed amiably. +"Although I can't see why she didn't go to grandfather and tell him how +she felt. My grandfather, Miss Rebecca Mary Wyman, is the best old scout +in the world. Don't think for a minute that he is a crabbed selfish old +dub because he isn't. He's the head of a big manufacturing plant which +he had ready to turn over to the government before the war because he +saw it coming, and it's been no joke to get it back to a peace basis +since the war. I don't know anything about this chicken meat +proposition, but I do know that granddad has so much on his mind that it +isn't surprising if he has forgotten a little thing like an +anniversary----" + +"Little thing!" Anniversaries were not little things to Rebecca Mary. +They aren't little things to any woman. "A golden wedding a little +thing!" It was perfectly clear to Peter that a golden wedding with all +its tributes and attributes would never be a little thing to Rebecca +Mary. + +"She's going to ask me," Joan broke in excitedly. "I've never been to +one, and I can't think what it will be like. What will be golden? The +bride can't be, can she?" + +"No," Rebecca Mary put an arm around Joan as she explained. "No, honey, +the golden part will be the beautiful memory the bride and bridegroom +will have of the fifty happy years they have spent together." She +stopped suddenly as she remembered that was what Cousin Susan had said, +that memories were golden. "What a long time that is!" she murmured +dreamily. "Fifty years!" + +"Not too long for two people who love each other," suggested Peter in a +voice which sent the ready color to her cheeks. "When you are married +you will want a golden wedding, won't you?" + +"I wonder," her lips murmured perversely, although her heart told her +with one big beat that she would, she most certainly would, want a +golden wedding. + +"I know," insisted Peter. "Come on in and help me find some breakfast. I +haven't had a thing to eat since last night," piteously. + +"We have!" Joan was triumphant. "We had strawberries and toast and eggs +and coffee!" + +"Greedy!" Peter made a face at her. "I hope you didn't eat all the +strawberries, nor all the eggs, nor all the toast!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Rebecca Mary and Joan sat beside Peter while he ate his strawberries and +his eggs and toast and bacon. Rebecca Mary poured two cups of coffee for +him in a demure little way which Peter found quite enchanting, and his +eyes told her so as they followed her to the other side of the table. +But there was nothing sentimental to Joan in the fact that Rebecca Mary +had poured Peter two cups of coffee. She found it only interesting, and +her eyes grew big when Peter broke a third egg. + +"Gentlemen hold a lot more than ladies, don't they?" she asked with +frank interest. "Granny only ate berries and toast and drank half a cup +of coffee, and you, dear Miss Wyman, had an egg with your toast and +coffee and so did I, but Mr. Simmons already has eaten----" + +"Spare me the list of my victories," begged Peter. "And bear in mind, +Friend Joan, that men are hard working creatures who have to be well +stoked to do their job." + +"But ladies work, too." Joan objected to such sex discrimination. "I've +seen them, haven't I, Miss Wyman?" + +"You have unless you kept your eyes shut, which is what so many of our +busy gentlemen do," twinkled Rebecca Mary. "If you are quite sure you +won't have another cup of coffee, Mr. Simmons, I'll run up and see if +Granny is awake and tell her the surprise that is waiting for her." + +But Granny was still asleep under the rose strewn coverlet, and Rebecca +Mary slipped out as quietly as she had slipped in. + +Peter had finished his breakfast when she returned to the dining room, +and they all walked out to the garden where he smoked a cigarette. + +"But you know Granny can't stay here without sending word to +grandfather," insisted Peter. + +"Why can't she?" + +"Why can't she?" Peter stared as if Rebecca Mary should have known +better than to waste words on such a question. "My grandfather adores my +grandmother, Miss Wyman, although he does tease her to death, and he'll +worry his old gray head off if he doesn't know where she is." + +"Mrs. Simmons left a message with Pierson." + +"That she had gone to Seven Pines. When grandfather calls up Seven +Pines Granny won't be there. No, she must send him a message at once." + +"You can't send any messages from Riverside. Major Martingale told us so +most emphatically." + +"I rather guess we could get a word to old Peter Simmons if we went +about it in the right way." Young Peter seemed much amused to hear that +she imagined that they couldn't. "Don't you know----" he began, and then +he laughed and stopped short. + +Rebecca Mary knew, of course, that he had meant to tell her what an +important man his grandfather was, and she liked him the better for +breaking his sentence off in the middle and not boasting. He chuckled to +himself several times as he walked with Rebecca Mary through the garden +which was such a riot of gorgeous color, around the flower-bordered +pool, by the old lichen-studded sun dial and through the green wreathed +pergola to the river bank, where Peter forgot his grandparents as he +remembered his history and told Rebecca Mary the legend the Indians had +written on the big rock on the other side. It was a gruesome tale, and +Joan shook in her small shoes. Rebecca Mary would have shivered in her +larger oxfords if she had not remembered that the gruesomeness was some +two hundred years old. They had a most delightful morning and strolled +back when they heard the clang of a big bell, a bell which Peter told +Joan talked of absolutely nothing but food. + +"The mechanics are quartered in the farmhouse," he explained. + +There was one word in his sentence which reminded Rebecca Mary that she +was a member of Granny's detective bureau, and she looked up quickly. + +"Just what is this experiment which is going to mean so much to the +world?" she asked with serpent guile. The minute she had seen young +Peter Simmons she knew that Major Martingale's story was true, but she +should like to know more of his experiment. She had no doubt Peter would +tell her more. + +Peter squirmed uneasily. He wanted to tell her what he knew but a man's +tongue is sometimes tied. + +"I'm sorry," he said as Wallie Marshall had said earlier in the morning. +"But we aren't allowed to breathe a word. We're under oath, you know. +Can't run the risk of any leak." + +"You don't trust me?" For just a second Rebecca Mary threatened to be +injured or indignant. Peter held his breath. "Never mind!" She decided +to smile, and Peter drew a sigh of relief. "It must have something to do +with aëroplanes----" + +"I'm not here as an aviator," Peter told her quickly, and then seemed +sorry that he had spoken. + +"You're not?" But as Peter refused to say in what capacity he was at +Riverside she went on rather scornfully; "I suppose it has nothing to do +with chemistry or electricity, either, although Mr. Marshall told me he +was one kind of an engineer and Mr. Barton was the other." + +"The dickens he did!" Peter grinned at her powers of deduction. + +"I dare say I'll know all about it in time." Rebecca Mary tossed her +head with a fair show of indifference. "That is if there is anything to +know. Come, Joan, I'm sure Granny is awake now." + +"I say, you're not angry with me?" Peter did not see why he should be +intrusted with secrets which would make Rebecca Mary angry with him. He +caught her hand. + +She looked down at the five fingers which rested on Peter's broad palm +and then up at his face, and to his delight there was no anger in her +eyes, nothing but the most innocent surprise. + +"Why should I be angry?" And when he didn't tell her she went on +lightly: "Of course, I should want to know anything I shouldn't know, +any girl would, and equally, of course, you must keep your oath, +but----" She shrugged her shoulders and took her fingers away from +Peter. + +"I see," muttered Peter ruefully as he followed her. But he didn't see +at all. + +They found Granny awake, and on the terrace. She was surprised to see +Peter for she had not believed a word of Rebecca Mary's dream, and she +asked him at once if Major Martingale's story were true or should she +and Rebecca Mary run away and warn Joshua Cabot that queer things were +taking place at Riverside? There was no beating about the bush with +Granny. She did not hesitate a second, and she looked very crestfallen +when Peter told her that Major Martingale had told nothing but the +truth. + +"You'd never believe how important the experiment is nor how much +Germany wants it," he said. "Old Martingale has to be suspicious and +careful. He can't trust any one who isn't on oath. You were lucky you +weren't shot at sunrise. No, you can't do a thing but stay until the +Major lets you go. I'm glad you're here. It will make it pleasanter for +me," he explained with a grin. "Although I'll confess that I didn't +realize that things were on quite such a military footing. I didn't +bring you here to be locked up but because I thought it was safer than +to leave you on the high road. I didn't know you would have to stay," he +insisted. "Better send a message to grandfather," he told his +grandmother. + +She shook her head. "I can't. I'm not allowed to send messages to any +one." + +"I'm sure I can get old Martingale to let you write a letter." There was +a funny twinkle in Peter's eyes as he told what he could do. + +But Granny just shook her head again. "It won't do your grandfather any +harm to worry about me for a while. He has been too sure of me, and I've +been too good-natured. You know yourself, Peter, that we never would +have left Waloo if we hadn't gone before he came home. I made allowances +for him during the war, but that is over. No, Peter, I'm just full of +things it wouldn't be safe to say to him now. I want a peaceful golden +wedding, so I'll just stay where Fate has put me. If he were to come +here and ask me what I want for a golden wedding present I'm afraid I +should lose my temper. Why, we've talked of it hundreds of times and he +should know. Perhaps it is a little thing, Peter, but you're old enough +to know that life is made up largely of little things and they must be +right. The big things come so seldom that we can overlook the wrong in +them." + +"Grandfather's an awfully busy man just now," Peter began, but she would +not let him finish. + +"That's what I've been told for fifty years, and I've overlooked a lot +because he was so busy and so important. But I rather think I'll be +important for a while now. No, Peter Simmons, and if you say anything to +Major Martingale I shall be cross. I don't know why I feel this way, I +never did before, but I do feel that I can't be teased now. There is no +use arguing with me. You might as well save your breath." + +"It's all wrong," Peter grumbled to Rebecca Mary the minute they were +alone. "Grandfather shouldn't have this private worry when he has so +much public responsibility. Women have no sense of proportion." + +"How can they have any when men have so much?" Rebecca Mary spoke as if +there was just so much sense of proportion in the world and the men had +taken it all. She showed how sarcastic she could be in a few words. "I +don't blame Granny a bit, but I'll give you a little advice. If you +leave her alone she will agree with you a lot sooner than if you argue +with her. That's the way I manage the children and it succeeds nine +times out of ten." + +"I'll bet it does!" Peter was all admiration as he heard her method. +"All right, I'll stop badgering the old dear--for a while anyway. Come +and have a try at tennis. I'll wager you play a good game." + +Rebecca Mary did not play a good game,--how could she when she had had +so little practice?--but she obediently followed Peter to the court and +let him knock balls toward her. She made up in effort what she lacked in +skill. + +She jumped up to hit a ball, which flew high above her head and struck +it in such a way that it bounded from the court and went off at a +tangent to strike the shoulder of a man who was hurrying to the house. +He stopped and swung around to throw the ball back to the court. + +"Oh!" Joan gave a shriek. "It's my father! It's my own father!" And she +dashed to him as fast as her two feet would take her. He met her half +way and caught her in his arms. + +Rebecca Mary and Peter drifted toward each other. + +"I thought her father was dead!" exclaimed Peter. + +"Oh, no!" Rebecca Mary was dying to turn and look at Count Ernach de +Befort but she was withheld by a fine delicacy from staring at Joan's +father. + +Joan brought him across the court at once, clinging to his hand. + +"I've found him!" She was tremulously triumphant. "I'm the first to find +what we came for. This is my own father, dear Miss Wyman." + +Her own father took the hand which Miss Wyman offered him and clasped it +warmly. Now that she could see more than his back, Rebecca Mary felt +rather than knew that Joan had not drawn him from her imagination. He +was very different from the father in the photograph, older and more +serious. There was a tired, worn look in the face which showed where +Joan had found her black eyes and broad forehead and he had an +absent-minded, detached air which explained how he had been able to +leave his little daughter alone in Waloo with a housekeeper. He drew his +heels together as Rebecca Mary had seen German officers draw their heels +together in the movies, and Rebecca Mary caught her breath for she +remembered the Prussian uniform he had worn in his photograph, the +German eagle on his breast, and she remembered also that Major +Martingale had said no Germans were to be at Riverside. + +"I cannot understand," he said, bewildered and surprised as he tried to +follow Joan's incoherent explanation, and although his English was quite +correct there was a foreign intonation which Rebecca Mary found +fascinating for it told her that Joan might be right and her father +might really be Count Ernach de Befort. Counts of any nationality were a +novelty to Rebecca Mary. She had not met one of them in the third grade +of the Lincoln school. + +She assisted Joan to explain that Mrs. Muldoon had been called away by +the illness of her son and had left Joan with her teacher. + +"She loaned me, daddy," emphasized Joan. "I'm so glad she did." + +But Joan's father frowned as if he were not glad that his only daughter +had been loaned to any one, and the explanation went on to state how +they had come to Riverside. + +"And we're prisoners!" exclaimed Joan. "Are you a prisoner, too, daddy?" + +"The same kind of a prisoner that you are. Isn't that right, Mr. +Befort?" laughed Peter. + +Rebecca Mary breathed easier. If Peter laughed that way it must be all +right for Frederick Befort to be at Riverside. + +Frederick Befort smiled as if he thought it would be very pleasant to +have his daughter and her teacher fellow prisoners at Riverside before +he said that he was one of the men working on the great experiment. + +"I am surprised at Mrs. Muldoon," he went on with a frown. "She has been +so honest and faithful that I was sure I could trust her to take care of +Joan until I returned. My work here I could not leave to another. You +know----" He looked at Peter. + +Peter nodded. "Sure, I know." And he put his hand on the older man's +shoulder. Yes, decided Rebecca Mary, it must be all right. "Funny I +never connected you with the kid, for Befort isn't a common name. I +guess I was so interested in your job I never thought of you as a +father." + +"I have," confessed Rebecca Mary impulsively. "I've thought of you a +lot. Because we knew so little," she hastened to explain when Frederick +Befort looked surprised to hear that he had occupied so many of Rebecca +Mary's thoughts. "Granny Simmons and I have searched the map of Germany +for Echternach, the place Joan said you came from, but we couldn't find +it anywhere. We began to think that Joan had made up the name." + +"You searched all Germany?" asked Frederick Befort, putting his fingers +over Joan's lips as she tried to tell them that she hadn't made up the +name of Echternach. "No wonder you could not find it. It is a small +place, Miss Wyman, but old, very old. One of your English saints, +Willibrod, came there in the seventh century as a missionary. You should +have looked down in the southern part of Germany"--Rebecca Mary was +conscious of a feeling of disappointment. So Granny was right and he was +a German--"to the very edge of Rhenish Prussia until you found the river +Sure, and on the other side of that river you would have discovered +Echternach. But it is not in Prussia, it is in the Grand Duchy of +Luxembourg." He drew himself up proudly as he told her where Echternach +was. + +"Oh?" Rebecca Mary could not say another word to save her soul. She +could only look at him with the pinkest of cheeks. "I was so afraid that +you were a German!" she told him honestly. + +The laughter left his lips and a grave light took the place of the smile +in his eyes. + +"No, Echternach is not in Germany. It is not strange that you thought it +was, Miss Wyman. And if you traveled in our duchy you often would be +puzzled to know whether you were in Germany or in France. German is +spoken almost as much as French and we used German money. But a German +regiment was garrisoned in Luxembourg for fifty years and we have not +forgotten. Germany tried to swallow us as she tried to swallow so many +principalities, but Luxembourg would not be swallowed. Can you repeat +for Miss Wyman our national hymn, _ma petite_?" he said to Joan. "The +words the Cathedral bells ring out every other hour for fear we shall +forget them. Now then." His voice prompted Joan's as they repeated the +Luxembourg anthem: + + "_Mîr welle jô kê Preise gin; + Mîr welle bleime wat mor sin!_" + +"That means we shall never become Prussians. We shall remain what we +are," he translated, and his eyes flashed. + +Rebecca Mary's eyes were larger than any saucer as she gazed at him. She +had known Russians and Italians and Bohemians and Roumanians and +Serbians, she had taught children of almost every nationality, but she +had never met a Luxembourger before, and she tried to remember something +of the grand duchy. But she couldn't remember a thing. + +"Joan should have told you." Frederick Befort did not understand why she +should look so pleased. "You have been away from your native country +many months, _mignonne_, but you have not forgotten which side of the +Sure was your home?" + +"No," wriggled Joan. "But no one knows of Luxembourg and the grand +duchess, and every one knows of Germany and the old kaiser." + +"Alas, that it is so!" Frederick Befort shook his head sadly before he +looked at Rebecca Mary and said, oh, so feelingly: "I cannot understand +how Mrs. Muldoon could desert my little girl, but I am grateful to the +good God that he sent her such a friend in you. I cannot thank you for +your heavenly kindness to my little daughter." And before Rebecca Mary +realized what he was doing he had taken her hand and kissed it. + +If it had thrilled Rebecca Mary to have her fingers kissed by fat Mrs. +Klavachek you may imagine how shaken inwardly she was to have them +kissed by Count Ernach de Befort. + +"It wasn't anything," she stammered, wishing for goodness' sake that she +could think of something clever to say. + +"It was everything!" he insisted, gazing into her eyes. + +"Aren't you glad I found my daddy, Miss Wyman!" Joan was jumping up and +down as she clung to her father's hand. "But I'm sorry you haven't +found any payment for your memory insurance," she went on regretfully. + +"Oh, but I have!" Rebecca Mary forgot to be shy because a Luxembourg +count had kissed her fingers, and she laughed. "I've found a tremendous +payment!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Granny was very much surprised when they trooped in to tell her that a +tennis ball had just found Joan's father, and that he was not a German +but a good Luxembourger. The width of a river had kept him from being a +German. Granny knew little more of Luxembourg than Rebecca Mary, but she +"oh'd" and "ah'd" before she looked at Frederick Befort and said slowly: + +"You are quite sure you are from the Luxembourg side of that river?" + +Frederick Befort's eyes never wavered as he looked at her. "Quite sure. +There was a time when I regretted that I did not belong on the other +side of the river. You know I went to school in Germany, in Bonn, and I +had many German friends. The old emperor was a friend of my +grandfather's. I was named for him; and the present emperor has visited +us at Echternach." + +"That is why he made you an eagle, isn't it?" Joan broke in, eager to +have a share in these interesting explanations. + +"Indirectly, yes." He smiled at her as she stood beside him. "I was able +to arrange a very successful wild boar hunt and the kaiser was so +pleased that he decorated me. He was with us for several days and made +excursions all over the duchy. It was as if he wished to learn every +road and mountain path. We thought nothing of it then, fools that we +were! I even put on the Prussian uniform of one of the officers and wore +it at the costume ball that my wife gave in his honor." So that was why +he had been photographed in a Prussian uniform. Rebecca Mary's eyes +crinkled. "There always has been a close relation between Luxembourg and +Germany," he went on, and a frown chased the smile from his face. +"Before our present grand duchess came to the throne German influence +was supreme, most of our trade was with Germany, our railroads were +developed with German money and by Germans, but in our hearts we had no +love for Germany. And then came the day when the German army would have +marched through the duchy and our grand duchess, brave little Marie +Louise Adelheid, motored out to forbid them to use her country as a +thoroughfare. She had her car turned across the road to bar their +entrance, and the German officers laughed at her. Laughed at her, +madame! They told her to go home. What could Marie Louise Adelheid do? +We had an army of three hundred, only a palace guard and a military +band," he laughed bitterly. "We were not soldiers, we were farmers. +Germany knew that. And our little grand duchess had to go home. It would +have been useless to resist. Germany would have devastated Luxembourg as +she devastated Belgium. But I have it in my heart to wish that we had +resisted, that we had fought and died as the Belgians did. The Germans +have used Luxembourg as they pleased. For fifty years our capital was +garrisoned by German troops. They left an odious memory and the German +soldiers who have swarmed over the duchy since 1914 are even more +odious. No, madame, you need not ask. No people hate Germany as do we of +Luxembourg." + +His words sounded brave and true, and his face looked brave and true. +His eyes flashed fire. It was easy to believe that he would rather have +fought and died than to have yielded to the German hordes. + +"We are small," he said more quietly, "but we are rich. Germany wanted +us, she wanted our iron, our factories, but she did not get them. No! +You see, madame, I have changed my mind. I no longer believe that I was +born on the wrong side of the Sure. I thank God now that there is no +German blood in my veins!" + +"You should," nodded Granny, "Men of German blood, and women, too, will +have to pay a fearful price for their nationality, the price of a world +hatred. That is a dreadful thing, to be hated by a whole world." She +shivered as she thought what a dreadful thing it would be. + +"How can it be otherwise?" Frederick Befort shrugged his shoulders. "If +you had seen what I have seen----" He broke off with a shudder. + +Granny leaned forward and put her hand on his. "It is strange that we +should find you here," she said after a moment. "Providence has queer +ways of bringing people together. It would have seemed easier to have +introduced us that afternoon we were all in the Viking room at the +Waloo." + +"On my birthday," Joan whispered to her father, "Miss Wyman was there +and Granny Simmons and young Mr. Simmons, and, oh, everybody." + +"It might have been easier but would it have been as thrilling?" Rebecca +Mary was almost faint from the thrills of the afternoon. "We might never +have had such wonderful times if we had met that day at the Waloo." She +drew a long breath as she thought of the wonderful times which had +followed that tea hour. + +Granny smiled at her, so did young Peter and Frederick Befort, and +unconsciously they all promised Rebecca Mary more wonderful times. +Enthusiasm does make people so much more generous than quiet acceptance. + +"Then, perhaps Joan is right and you are really Count Ernach de Befort?" +laughed Granny. "We thought the child was romancing." + +"Yes, in Luxembourg I am a count but in America I like best to be just +Mr. Befort." And Mr. Befort looked almost apologetic. + +For the first time in her life Rebecca Mary knew what it was to be a +popular girl. As she had told Granny, since she had been in Waloo she +had known no men over eight years of age and while the boys in her third +grade were interesting and dear they were young. Here at Riverside, +where she was a prisoner, Rebecca Mary found three most attractive men +of exactly the right age, Peter Simmons, Wallace Marshall and George +Barton, and one very fascinating older man, Frederick Befort, who was a +count in his own country, a country which Rebecca Mary scarcely knew by +name. + +Busy as the men were over the experiment which was to be such a boon to +the world, they found many hours in which to walk with Rebecca Mary, to +play tennis with her, to talk with her, to dance with her while the +victrola played a new fox trot, or to ride with her around the farm on +the fat horses which Peter borrowed from the farmer. Each one of them +showed Rebecca Mary very plainly that there was no other girl in his +world, as indeed there wasn't just then, and Rebecca Mary, to her +undying astonishment, discovered that she could flirt and play one man +against another as well as any woman. She scarcely had time to record +the payments on her memory insurance policy she was so busy making them. + +And if the three younger men admired her for her youth and sex and gay +enthusiasm, Frederick Befort revered her for her kindness to Joan. When +he was not absorbed in the experiment or at the shop, where he worked +with a detached interest to the world around him, which would have made +Granny and Rebecca Mary understand many things about Joan which they had +not understood, he had to think of what might have happened if Rebecca +Mary had not accepted the loan of Joan. His gratitude was sometimes +embarrassing and always thrilling to Rebecca Mary, who often had to +pinch herself to make sure that she really was Rebecca Mary Wyman. She +told herself a dozen times a day that, of course, it was because she was +the only girl at Riverside that every one was so perfectly wonderful to +her, but she liked to pretend that it was because she was so beautiful +and fascinating. At heart Rebecca Mary was not a bit conceited. Her life +never had let her accumulate enough vanity to balance on the point of a +pin. And if you had told her that really she was very pretty and very +charming she would have laughed at you. + +She liked them all, even old Major Martingale, whom she had identified +as the short, stout, red-faced man who had consumed such quantities of +hot buttered toast that afternoon at the Waloo. She discovered that +Wallie Marshall and George Barton had been in the tea room on that +memorable afternoon also and it did seem strange, as Granny had said +that Fate should bring them together again in this fashion. Never for a +moment did Rebecca Mary suspect that Major Martingale had slipped the +four-leaf clover into her hand, but she did wonder if one of the others +had. She did not want to ask them outright, that would have ended, +perhaps spoiled, the delightful mystery. She would have to wait and the +waiting was proving very enjoyable. Once Rebecca Mary had hoped that it +was Peter who had given her the talisman but now she wished it was +Frederick Befort. It would be so romantic when she was sixty to remember +that it had been Count Ernach de Befort. Dear me, but Rebecca Mary was +glad that Cousin Susan had been so foolish as to spend her kitchen +curtains for two cups of tea. + +And while Rebecca Mary was the belle of Riverside, Granny took the rest +cure. + +"It's a heaven sent chance," she told Rebecca Mary and Peter. "I was in +such a whirl all through the war that I'm still wound up in a hard knot. +I'm sorry we didn't get to Seven Pines but I'll just rest here for a few +days and perhaps I'll be in a good condition to enjoy my golden +wedding." + +"Grandfather----" began Peter, but she cut him short. + +"Don't say grandfather to me, Peter Simmons. When you've been married +fifty years less a few weeks you'll understand more than your +grandfather ever understood if I know anything of the modern girl. Won't +he, Rebecca Mary?" + +"I don't know how much his grandfather understands." Rebecca Mary was +proving every day what a help she would be to a diplomatic corps. + +"He doesn't understand anything about women," grumbled Granny. + +She did not come down to breakfast but let Rebecca Mary take a tray to +her room and after she had eaten her berries and toast and drunk her +coffee she exchanged her bed for a couch in the sun room, where she +dozed until luncheon, when she appeared in the dining room to be +received like a queen. A nap over a novel filled the afternoon, and +after dinner she always played three games of double Canfield with Major +Martingale, who frowned blackly over the first game, was puzzled at the +second and smiled broadly at the third, which Granny always let him win. + +"That keeps him in a good humor," she explained to Rebecca Mary. "Men +have to be managed even over a game of cards." + +She took Rebecca Mary over the house and showed her the original part +which had been built by the great grandfather of Richard and Joshua +Cabot. + +"He was one of the big pioneers of the northwest," she said. "He came +from Pennsylvania in the early forties as an Indian trader. Later he +went into the transportation business. He used wagons first, those queer +Red River carts. You've seen them at state celebrations?" Rebecca Mary +nodded. She remembered the quaint two-wheeled squeaky carts if she +didn't remember the Cabots. "Old Mr. Cabot built here when the state was +still a territory, and from an historical standpoint I suppose there +isn't a more interesting house in the northwest. Councils of war, +political rallies, balls, celebrations of every sort were held in these +rooms. He entertained all the important people who came to the +northwest. His wife was the daughter of a rival French trader, and +Joshua Cabot's grandfather was prouder of his French blood than he was +of what his father had done to open up a new country. I think Richard is +like the old Pennsylvanian," she went on thoughtfully. "More so than +Joshua or any of the others. I expect he will do something big some +day." + +"I should say he has done something big already," exclaimed Rebecca +Mary, rather surprised to find herself championing Richard Cabot. "There +aren't many men of his age who are vice-presidents of a bank like the +First National. And Peter told me how splendid he was at selling Liberty +bonds." + +"That's true," admitted Granny soberly, and she carefully hid the +twinkle in her eyes from Rebecca Mary. "And banks and bonds are not the +only things that interest Richard. I used to think they were. But +they're not." + +"Yes?" questioned Rebecca Mary politely, but she was too polite, and too +unconcerned. Granny refused to tell her what, with stocks and bonds, +shared Richard's interest. Rebecca Mary had to guess what Granny meant. +It was astonishing how often they talked of Richard, or would have been +astonishing if they had not been prisoners in Richard's +great-grandfather's old house. + +No one came to Riverside as one day ran after another. They were quiet +and restful days for Granny, but far from quiet or restful to Rebecca +Mary and Joan. Joan made friends with the farmer's wife and the farmer's +eight months' old baby and a maltese cat, and she deserted Rebecca Mary +for the farmhouse. There were chickens at the farmhouse which Joan was +allowed to feed if Mrs. Erickson did not have to say "don't" too many +times, and a shaggy dog and a flock of young turkeys as well as the +baby, which Joan was permitted to hold if she was sure that her hands +were clean. + +Bread and milk may be a healthy change from lobster à la Newburg and +chiffonade salad, but to a palate accustomed to the rich food a simple +fare soon palls. Before many days Granny began to feel so rested that +she was not satisfied to lie in the sun room and doze. She began to +wonder what old Peter Simmons was doing, what he had said when Pierson +delivered her message the night he came home on the eleven fifty-five +and found her gone, and to wonder last of all if she had been wise to +run away. Her conscience began to prick and prick hard. At last she went +to Sallie Cabot's pretty writing table. + + "My dear old Peter," she began, "of course Pierson told you that I + had left for Seven Pines with a couple of young friends. I did not + wait to see you for several reasons. If you take time to think you + will know why I felt that I had to go to Seven Pines just now. Do + take care of yourself. I shall die if anything should happen to + spoil our golden wedding. I've looked forward to it for over fifty + years." + +She signed herself "Your affectionate wife," with a little grunt and +sigh and then she carefully tore the "Riverside" mark from the paper. +She folded her letter and put it in a plain envelop, which she inclosed +in a second envelop, which was addressed to the housekeeper at Seven +Pines. She gave the letter to Peter and told him that as he had +bothered her so unceasingly she had written to his grandfather and the +letter could be sent if it could go by way of Seven Pines. + +Peter seemed quite sure he could have it sent that way. "Good work, +Granny!" He patted her shoulder approvingly. "You won't be sorry," he +promised. + +"I hope I shan't," sighed Granny. + +"She's a good old sport," Peter told Rebecca Mary when he had his turn +for a dance or a walk and they chose a walk down by the river. "I +honestly didn't think she'd do it, but she did. Of course----" He +stopped suddenly and called her attention to the hollyhocks, like pink +and white sentinels. + +Rebecca Mary was not to be diverted by pink or white hollyhocks. "Yes? +You were saying----" + +"Nothing, that is, nothing of any consequence," he told her hurriedly. +"I say what was old Wallie telling you before dinner that made you both +howl? I haven't heard a good joke for some time and that must have been +a scream from the way you two chortled." + +But if Peter wouldn't tell her she wouldn't tell him. "I don't feel at +liberty to repeat Mr. Marshall's jokes," she said very loftily. + +"Now you're testy and it isn't my fault. I say, you know, you're not +the girl you were in Waloo," reproachfully. "You wouldn't have exploded +at nothing in Waloo," he complained. + +It was only the truth. Rebecca Mary was not the same girl she had been +in Waloo. She knew it as well as he did and laughed triumphantly. She +was so glad she was not that old scowling shabby Waloo girl. The soft +low laugh rather went to Peter's head. He put out his hand and took +Rebecca Mary's fingers in his warm palm. + +"I say," he began a bit huskily, "you shouldn't look at a fellow like +that. You--you----" + +"Yes?" Rebecca Mary dared him with a racing heart. + +"Hi there, Simmons! Miss Wyman!" shouted a voice behind them and there +was Wallie Marshall, all indignation. "You think a fat lot of yourself, +don't you?" he said to Peter with some heat, "to run off with all the +partners at this dance. What do you think you are? Come this way, Miss +Wyman. I found a corking place among the willows this afternoon when I +was fishing. Let us see how it looks by moonlight." + +"It looks beautiful," Rebecca Mary told him when they had found the +corking place. She had been rather glad to run away with him from Peter. +As soon as she had dared Peter she was sorry, afraid, for a girl never +knows what will happen when she dares a man. "All shined up with the +best silver polish. It should be inhabited by fairies." + +"I guess there isn't any fairy that has anything on you," stammered +Wallie. "You make a fellow like me feel so clumsy and rough." + +"Clumsy! Rough! You!" The three exclamations told his scarlet ears that +Rebecca Mary did not think he was either the one or the other. + +He drew closer. "I say, you're a wonder, all right. My word!" He drew a +deep breath. "But I'm glad you dropped in here. Just imagine if we had +never met!" He couldn't imagine it. It was too horrible. + +"We might have run across each other somewhere else," suggested Rebecca +Mary. "The Waloo tea room perhaps. Strange things have happened there." +She giggled as she remembered one of the strange things. + +He shook his head. "No other place would be like this, where I can see +such a lot of you. I hope you don't think it's too much?" He was seized +with a sudden fear. "I don't bore you, do I?" + +She assured him that he didn't. He hadn't bored her for a second. He +beamed, but he could not leave well enough alone. + +"Then you like to be with me as much as with Simmons?" he asked +jealously. + +"Don't incriminate yourself, Miss Wyman," advised George Barton, who had +come up behind them. "Cut along, Wallie. You're through." + +"Through!" shouted the indignant Wallie. + +George turned away from him. "Strange effect the moonlight has, Miss +Wyman. See that bush over there? Doesn't it cast a shadow like a +fool's-cap on the head of our friend, Wallie?" + +She laughed, she couldn't help it, and when he heard her Wallie groaned +and walked away. + +"This is better." George twisted himself on the garden seat so that he +could look up into Rebecca Mary's dimpling face. "Gee, but we have had a +day!" + +"Didn't things go well?" Rebecca Mary knew no more about the work which +took the men over to the shop and sent them back to her than she did the +day she had come to Riverside, but she always was interested to hear +them mention it. + +"Oh, yes, well enough, but don't let's talk about that now that I have +found the girl and the time and the place. Moonlight is awfully becoming +to you, Miss Wyman, you should always wear it. It makes you shimmer and +sparkle." + +"Too bad I can't buy a few yards to put away." + +"You don't really need it. I've seen you sparkle quite fetchingly in the +sunlight. You know you're different from any girl I ever knew," he went +on with a curious wonder that he had found Rebecca Mary so different. + +"In what way?" Rebecca Mary always had thought that she was different +and, oh, how she wanted to be like other girls. + +"In what way?" he repeated as if it should be as plain to her as it was +to him. "Why, other girls--other girls are just nowhere beside you!" + +"Oh!" Rebecca Mary was quite willing to be unlike other girls in the way +described by his deep drawn breath and flushed face, but she looked at +him provokingly and murmured sadly: "That might be taken in two ways." + +Before he could tell her that it most certainly could be taken in but +one way, Joan pushed through the shrubbery to announce excitedly that +Ben had made some ice cold lemonade and if they wanted any they had +better run, for Mr. Marshall said he was thirsty from his head to his +heels, and Mr. Marshall was six feet three inches tall and the lemonade +pitcher wasn't more than eighteen inches. Mr. Marshall had said so. A +scant eighteen inches, he had said. + +"Mercy, mercy, Joan!" Rebecca Mary caught her hand. "Let's fly!" + +And away they dashed by the snapdragons, by the foxgloves and the +hollyhocks, by the pool to the rose tangled terrace where the +six-foot-three Mr. Marshall waited triumphantly beside the scant +eighteen-inch lemonade pitcher. + +Frederick Befort waited there, too, and when Rebecca Mary, pink and +breathless, murmured something about the roses, he drew her into a +fragrant corner to tell her of the wonderful roses which have made +Luxembourg famous, for there are roses everywhere, climbing the garden +walls, the houses, the battlements and the towers. It made her flush and +sigh to hear of the beauty of that rose garlanded city, and suddenly he +flushed, too, and began hurriedly to talk of the eight hundred primary +schools in which education is compulsory, for education is much thought +of in the little duchy. And later, oh, much later, as Rebecca Mary +brushed her hair before the mirror, she told her smiling reflection that +she never had realized what a fascinating subject education could be. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +"Do you know what I am going to do?" Peter demanded gloomily when he +found Rebecca Mary in the pergola overlooking the river at the foot of +the garden. + +Rebecca Mary was reading a book which she had found in one of the big +cases in Joshua Cabot's grandfather's library. She flushed guiltily when +Peter discovered her and put her book hurriedly behind her, which was no +way to hide it from him. Peter immediately wanted to know what was the +matter with her book that she should put it behind her back when he came +in sight, and what was her book, anyway? A minute later Rebecca Mary had +yielded to brute force, and Peter read the title of the thick +volume--"The Grand Duchy of Luxembourg," and then he took up a small +volume which was on the bench beside Rebecca Mary and read the title of +that--"French Grammar." + +Then and there Peter had taxed her with giving more of her time and +thoughts to Frederick William Gaston Johan Louis, Count Ernach de +Befort, than she did to him, plain Peter Simmons, a former private in +the Lafayette escadrille. + +"You are always talking education with him. Education!" he sneered. "Or +reading about his blamed little country or studying his blamed,--no, I +can't call the language of the French names. But you know, Rebecca Mary, +that you give him more of your company than you give me." And when +Rebecca Mary just sat there flushed and guilty, Peter went on with great +determination, "Do you know what I am going to do?" + +Rebecca Mary could truthfully say that she didn't, she hadn't the +faintest idea what he was going to do. + +"I'm going to take this many-named count out and drown him. Oh, yes, I +know we're forbidden to go on the river and that Befort is needed at the +shop, but I'm going to drown him just the same. Yes, Rebecca Mary Wyman, +that is what I shall do, I'll take him out on the river and drown him. +What does he mean by butting in, anyway? Doesn't he know that I brought +you here to get you away from old Dick Cabot?" + +"Oh!" Rebecca Mary was all in a flutter when he spoke of old Dick Cabot. + +"Doesn't Befort know that you are my girl?" went on Peter with a frown, +although there was a grin lurking around the corners of his mouth. + +"Am I?" dimpled Rebecca Mary, pink to her hair to hear that she was +Peter's girl. + +"Aren't you?" Peter could answer one question with another as well as +any Irishman, and he leaned closer to see if Rebecca Mary agreed that +she was his girl. "And I'm not going to let another fellow cut me out," +he went on sternly. "Marshall and Barton are bad enough, but I can +manage them." + +"How?" interrupted Rebecca Mary, eager to hear how Peter was going to +manage Wallie Marshall and George Barton. + +"I'm a bigger man than they are and a better," Peter explained promptly. +"They don't worry me, but this Befort--I'm bigger than he is, too, but +he's romantic, and all girls fall for romance. I can see that he might +have quite a drag with you. Most girls would rather have a diamond +already cut and polished in their platinum ring than one in the rough. I +like old Befort myself, but I'll have to drown him just the same. +Godfrey!" he jumped to his feet and looked down at her. "There's no time +like the present. I'll hunt him up and ask him politely to come for a +little row on the river, and then I'll drown him." + +Rebecca Mary laughed. "There used to be an old saying that ran something +like this--'First catch your hare.'" Her eyes danced. It was such fun to +hear Peter run on. Not one of the eight-year-old men she had known in +the third grade of the Lincoln school had ever talked to her like this. + +Peter grunted scornfully. "Oh, I'll catch him," he promised confidently. +"I have only to stay here with you, and I'll catch him and drown him." + +Neither of them knew that just behind the vine wreathed pergola Joan was +playing with the farmhouse kitten which she had borrowed without +permission. She had hesitated between the baby asleep in a chair on the +porch and the kitten asleep on the step and then had wisely chosen the +kitten. + +When she first heard Peter talking to Rebecca Mary she had not listened +to him for the kitten was so cunning as it played with the string Joan +held just out of reach of the four paws, but when Peter kept on +insisting that he was going to drown some one she had to listen. When +she heard who Peter was going to drown she jumped to her feet, almost on +the borrowed kitten, and gasped. Her first impulse was to rush to Peter +and tell him that he couldn't, he just couldn't, drown her father for +liking to talk to Rebecca Mary. If he did that he would have to drown +himself and every one at Riverside and a lot of people at Waloo, for +almost every one liked to talk to Rebecca Mary. He even would have to +drown her. And then another plan slipped swiftly into her startled +brain, and her slim legs scarcely touched the ground as they carried her +around the pergola and up through the garden. + +It was the greatest luck that just as she passed the tall clump of +larkspur she should see her father coming leisurely toward her. If Joan +had been older and in less haste she would have seen that her father had +changed since the day the tennis ball had found him. He did not look as +haggard nor quite as absent-minded and his shoulders did not sag. He +looked just then as if he had come from the hands of a very good valet. + +"Eh, Joan," he called when he saw the flash of her bare knees. "What +now? Where are you going in such haste?" + +Joan threw herself against him, clasping his legs in her arms, and +gasped, "You won't let him drown you, will you?" she begged. + +Frederick Befort dropped on the grass beside her and took her in his +arms. "Indeed, no one shall drown me, _ma petite_. Why should they?" + +"Then when he asks you to come for a row on the river you won't go, +will you?" Joan went on. "Say you won't?" She gave him a little shake. +"I--I don't want you to be drowned." + +"And I don't want to be drowned." Frederick Befort laughed gently as he +wiped the tears from her eyes. "Some one has been teasing you, +_mignonne_." + +"It wasn't to me he said it. It was to Miss Wyman. He said he could +manage Mr. Marshall and Mr. Barton, but that you were too romantic and +he would have to drown you." + +To Joan's surprise her father threw back his head and laughed and +laughed. "So," he murmured as he hugged her, "I am romantic, am I? Miss +Wyman----" An odd expression crossed his face as if an odd thought had +just crossed his mind. "You like Miss Wyman, don't you, Joan?" + +Joan nodded as she clung to his hand. If Peter drowned her father he +should drown her, too. Even if she did love Miss Wyman she did not want +to live without her father. + +"He said you were a cut and polished diamond set in platinum," she +hiccoughed. "And he said he was in the rough. That was why he would have +to take you in a boat and drown you, because you were a cut and polished +diamond. So I ran just as fast as I could for I knew if I told you he +never could drown you, could he?" + +Frederick Befort put his fingers under the eager little face and tipped +it up so that he could kiss the trembling lips. "I don't think Peter +wants to drown me, Joan," he explained gently. "He was speaking +figuratively." + +"What's that?" The new word had to be explained at once. "What's figure +speaking?" + +Frederick Befort searched his brain for the right words with which to +explain it. "When you ran races with Miss Wyman and Peter last night you +called out that you were flying because you ran so fast. But you really +weren't flying, you know, you just felt as if you were. Peter Simmons +doesn't really want to drown me, he just wants to pretend that he does." + +"Oh!" The explanation proved satisfactory, and Joan's lips stopped +trembling to smile. "It won't hurt to do it that way, will it?" + +Frederick Befort smiled ruefully. "I'm not so sure. You know, Joan, that +Peter Simmons is young and life is all before him. My life is behind me, +the best part of it." He jumped to his feet as Rebecca Mary and Peter +rounded the larkspur. Peter was carrying the "Grand Duchy of +Luxembourg" and the French grammar. + +Joan jumped to her feet, too. "I heard what you said," she called +triumphantly, "and I ran to tell my father. Yes, I did, and so you can't +drown him now only in your mind." + +Peter looked surprised and crestfallen before he laughed. "You saved his +life," he said, tickling Joan's neck. "If you hadn't told him I'd take +him right out now and drown him." + +Joan shivered and looked quickly from Peter to her "cut and polished" +father, who didn't shiver at all. + +"Only figuratively, _mignonne_," he reminded her. + +"But he could do it truly, perhaps," she said tremulously, for Peter did +seem so big and resourceful. "He has a war cross for being brave, you +know." + +"He received that for saving people, not for drowning them," Frederick +Befort said swiftly. "I envy you that, Peter," he added gravely. + +Peter nodded. "I hadn't thought of it like that. It is good to think +that I helped save, but when you get down to brass tacks that's what all +the fellows were doing," he went on quickly. "They saved the world, +ideals, freedom, everything that makes life worth while." + +"Yes, you are right. Have you been studying your lesson, Miss Wyman?" +Frederick Befort took the French grammar from Peter's hand. "Are you +ready to recite it? Let us go down by the river." + +And before Peter could say "booh" he had taken Rebecca Mary and the +grammar both away from him. + +Peter looked after them and his jaw dropped. "Well, I'll be darned!" he +muttered "You bet I'll have to drown that man." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Rebecca Mary had walked over to the farmhouse for Joan, but Joan was +feeding the chickens and just couldn't come at once, so Rebecca Mary sat +down on the steps and talked with Mrs. Erickson until the last downy +chicken had been given its dinner. + +"My, Miss Wyman, I expect you'll be glad when they're through their work +here and you can leave," Mrs. Erickson remarked sympathetically, as she +offered Rebecca Mary a plate of crispy flaky gooseberry tarts. "It must +have been pretty hard to start for a wedding and find yourself in jail. +I know how it is with me. I never was much of a gadabout, but, land +knows, I'll be glad enough when the guards are taken off, and I can come +and go as I please." + +"It is rather horrid," Rebecca Mary carelessly agreed as she ate a +gooseberry tart. "But I'm not having such a bad time really, Mrs. +Erickson. It might be a lot worse." + +"I wish I could look at it like that. But I ain't one to dwell much on +the cheerful side of things. What's the use, I say, when there's so +much that ain't cheerful. I suppose the old Major knows what he's about, +but there's queer things going on in Riverside, or I miss my guess." + +Rebecca Mary looked up quickly. "What do you mean?" she wanted to know +at once. Mrs. Erickson looked as if she meant such a lot. + +Mrs. Erickson drew a sigh from the sole of her stout shoes and moved +closer to Rebecca Mary, quite ready and willing to tell her what she +meant. + +"Well," she said in a whisper which blew a lock of Rebecca Mary's yellow +brown hair across her face, "as I understand it, Major Martingale +brought all these men down here to work on his experiment and locked us +up with them so he wouldn't be disturbed or interrupted and so he +wouldn't have any Germans nosing around. Wouldn't you think, then, that +he wouldn't want any Germans here? But last night her father," she +nodded to Joan, who was vainly trying to divide the dinner evenly among +the hungry chickens, "was over here talking to one of the mechanics, +George Weiss. He took him down behind the shed there and talked to him +in German. They didn't know I heard them, but I did. There isn't much +that goes on around Riverside that I don't hear something of. Erickson +said talking German don't mean anything but it does to me. Don't it to +you?" + +"Not much." Rebecca Mary helped herself to another tart. "My word, but +these are good, Mrs. Erickson. No, I don't think it means anything for +Mr. Befort to talk German. He was brought up practically in Germany." +And she told Mrs. Erickson of the Luxembourg town which was just across +the river from Rhenish Prussia. "He hates the Germans," she added, and +her white teeth closed over the crispy flaky tart. + +"He didn't sound as if he hated the Germans the way he was talking +German. Maybe you're right, Miss Wyman, you see more of him than I do, +but seems to me if I was trying to keep what I was doing from the +Germans I wouldn't have no Germans working with me. Major Martingale +oughta know his business, but I dunno----" She shook her head dolefully. +"And more than once, Miss Wyman," she went on in almost a whisper, "I've +seen Mr. Befort coming up from the river at sunrise. What's he doing +down there I'd like to know? Why ain't he in bed and asleep like the +rest of folks? Swimming may be excuse enough for you but it ain't for +me. I don't say he ain't what he says he is but I must say that under +the circumstances it's mighty queer. I said to George Weiss myself, +said I, 'You got a name that sounds like sauerkraut to me,' said I. +'What side was you on in the late war?' I said. And he looked at me and +laughed and said, 'Now Mrs. Erickson,' said he, 'you know very well that +I was one of Uncle Sam's boys. It wasn't my fault if I didn't get to +France. Maybe my name does have a German sound but the father what gave +it to me didn't stay in Germany. He brought it to America, and his boys +are a hundred per cent American,' he said. But, land, you dunno whether +to believe him or not. A man'll say 'most anything he wants to." And she +drew a second sigh from the sole of her thick shoe. + +Rebecca Mary should have gasped, but she didn't. She giggled. "You don't +look on the cheerful side of things, do you, Mrs. Erickson?" + +"Well, it ain't so easy to be cheerful when you know the world as it +really is. I've had some experience with these I. W. W. Bolsheviks, Miss +Wyman. Not here at Riverside. Land, no! Erickson keeps too good a watch +on things, and our men have been working here long enough to know which +side of their bread's buttered. But I got a brother up in North Dakota +and last summer his crops was set on fire and a new thrashing machine +ruined by putting nails and other truck into it. I dunno who I do +trust, Miss Wyman, but it ain't a man who talks enemy language and acts +what I can't understand. I don't blame the Major for being afraid of +I. W. W.'s and anarchists, but what I can't see is the way he trusts +some folks. My brother said the Germans was back of all the trouble in +North Dakota, and he's a truthful man if there is one. Do you know +anything about this great work we're doing here, Miss Wyman?" + +"Not a thing." Rebecca Mary looked a trifle puzzled. She was a trifle +dazed, also, at the flood of words which had poured from Mrs. Erickson's +lips. + +"No more do I. And Erickson don't know anything or I'd know. More'n +once I've slipped down beside that shop hoping to pick up a word, but +they don't use language I can understand, and what they're working on +don't look like nothing to me through the window. I don't dare go very +close for if the old Major'd see me he'd be sure to give me a piece of +his mind. He's got a harsh tongue when things don't go his way. I +declare, Miss Wyman, when I got so much to worry me I almost wish Mr. +Cabot hadn't been so free with Riverside. I hope he don't find himself +wishing that, too." But she smacked her lips and there was a greedy look +in her eyes which flatly contradicted her words. Rebecca Mary jumped to +her feet and brushed the crumbs of crispy flaky tart from her fingers. +"It's easy to make mountains out of mole hills, Mrs. Erickson," she said +quickly. "But it's rather a waste of time. Major Martingale knows what +he is doing. He isn't blind nor deaf. Come, Joan. Haven't you finished +yet? We'll be late for our own dinner if you don't hurry." + +"I've just finished." Joan held up the empty pan and spoon. "It's such +fun, Miss Wyman. Isn't it kind of Mrs. Erickson to let me feed them? But +I do think she should teach them better manners. That big white rooster +wants to eat it all. If I hadn't driven him away the weeny little ones +wouldn't have had a bite." + +Mrs. Erickson snorted. "The big white rooster is just like some folks," +she told Joan. "And if you can teach him table manners, Miss Joan, +you're welcome to the job. I've got enough on my hands without showing +roosters how to be polite." + +"Isn't she a funny woman, Miss Wyman?" Joan asked when they had closed +the farmhouse gate behind them. "She is always asking me about daddy. +Every day she asks me if he is an American citizen or if he isn't. And +when I asked daddy he said he couldn't be an American citizen because +he isn't through with being another kind of a citizen yet." + +"He's a Luxembourger, you know, Joan. Why didn't you tell Mrs. Erickson +that?" + +"I did, and she just sniffed and said she never heard of such a country. +She sniffs awfully funny, Miss Wyman, but she's kind, too. She gave me a +doughnut and a piece of cheese as well as a gooseberry tart. She said +they'd probably make me sick but I could eat them if I wanted to. And I +wanted to, and I wasn't sick. She makes awfully good doughnuts. I think +she must be a good cook. The chickens liked their dinner awfully much." + +"Positive proof that Mrs. Erickson is the perfect cook. None but the +best would do for a flock of hungry chickens. Joan, I'll race you to the +house. Wait a minute. Now, one--two--three--Go!" + +And they were off, down the driveway, by the lilac bushes to the old oak +where Peter and Wallie, on their way from the shop, stretched a barrier +across the walk. + +"You must be in a hurry," grinned Peter. "Hold on and we'll ride with +you, but you must have some regard to the speed limit." + +"Tired?" They did look hot and tired. "It must be horrid to spend a +perfectly gorgeous day like this in a stuffy shop with a gasoline +engine that says nothing but puff-puff. Aren't you almost through?" + +"We'll never be through," moaned Wallie. "I expect the Major will keep +us here on the job until we are gray and tottering. You'll be a dear +little old lady then, Miss Wyman." + +"Silly!" Rebecca Mary tilted her nose. "But, honest, won't you be +through soon? Granny and I have been perfect saints. We haven't made any +fuss at all, but we can't stay here forever. Of course, I don't know +anything about your great experiment----" + +"It is great, all right!" interrupted Peter. "The more we work at it the +more sure I am of that. I don't wonder old Germany moved heaven and +earth to get hold of it." + +When Peter spoke of Germany Rebecca Mary remembered Mrs. Erickson's +gloomy fears and she asked impulsively; "Has Germany given up trying to +get your wonderful secret?" + +The two men stared at her in surprise. + +"Don't you know that's why the Major brought the whole works down here?" +Peter asked. "In Waloo the Huns made trouble more than once, through the +mechanics, you know, regular bolshevik work. You'd never believe how +sly they were. That's why Joshua Cabot turned this place over to the +Major, and why the rule was made to bar people, and why you are here to +shed light on our dark way. The Major isn't taking any chances of having +anything stolen from him nor of any dirty sabotage, either, you may +believe me. Every man here had to pass a pretty rigid examination that +went back to his father and his grandfather." + +"Every man?" Rebecca Mary could not help but put a little dash of +significance into those two words. + +"Every one," Peter told her stoutly. "It is only the women who got in +without. When I drove you in here I hadn't any idea how necessary +secrecy was. You should have heard the wigging the Major gave me. +Perhaps you have been bored but you've been a life-preserver just the +same, hasn't she, Wallie?" + +"Sure thing!" Wallie gave a strong and hearty indorsement to Peter's +statement that Rebecca Mary had been a life-preserver. "I wish we could +tell you more about this work, Miss Wyman, you'd be interested, but +we're on oath, you know. You'll just have to trust us and wait." + +"M-m," murmured Rebecca Mary. It is so much easier to ask for trust and +patience than it is to furnish it. "You are sure you can trust your +men?" + +"Why not?" Peter's voice was sharp and quick. "Why not, Rebecca Mary? +What do you mean?" + +Rebecca Mary laughed uneasily. "I don't suppose it is anything but----" +And she told them what Mrs. Erickson had told her, that Frederick Befort +and George Weiss had been heard talking German behind the Erickson +woodshed, and Mrs. Erickson feared the worst. + +"Just like a woman," jeered Peter. "You take my word for it, Rebecca +Mary. I guess I know as much about it as old Mother Erickson. Befort is +all right. So is George Weiss. I suppose if I were to go back of the +chicken run and murmur 'hickory dickory dock' Mrs. Erickson would swear +I was a red Russian. You just keep your hair on, Rebecca Mary, and +listen to me. Some day you'll know that I'm right, won't she, Wallie?" + +"Sure thing," Wallie said again. "We didn't run any chance of a leak, +Miss Wyman. Believe me, we have picked men." + +Rebecca Mary looked from Wallie to Peter. They nodded to her as if to +emphasize what they had told her. Surely they must know more than Mrs. +Erickson, who had only been able to peek through the shop window. Mrs. +Erickson had told her that she always looked on the dark side of things +and naturally she had hunted for a dark side to the great experiment. It +was foolish for Rebecca Mary to look at the dark side when Peter and +Wallie were insisting that there was such a bright and sunny side. + +"Mrs. Erickson makes awful good gooseberry tarts and doughnuts," Peter +said gently. "But she hasn't much of a record as a detective." + +"I didn't really think she had. I'm not a complete idiot," Rebecca Mary +exclaimed with considerable scorn. "But I thought it was only right to +tell you what I heard. Of course, I know that Major Martingale didn't +take any chances. Germany couldn't get a clue now to what you are +doing." + +"Huh," grunted Peter. "I wouldn't go quite as far as that. I think +Germany will still make a try, don't you, Wallie?" + +"I do, but don't let's talk about Germany as if the war was still on; +let's guess what Ben is going to give us for dinner. I'm so hungry I +could eat you, Miss Wyman. You'd better not come near me garnished with +any bunch of mint." + +"Silly!" Rebecca Mary's nose was elevated disdainfully. "Well, you can't +say I have any secrets from you. And Ben is going to give you roast +beef for your dinner, Mr. Marshall. I heard him tell Joan." + +"Trust the kid to find out. I rather thought we might have lamb." And +Wallie grinned impudently. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +The days flew by as days will fly whether they are bright with diamonds +or veiled in gray. Granny became rested, Joan was spoiled, and even +Rebecca Mary began to feel the effect of too much attention. There had +been a time when Rebecca Mary had thought that it would be perfect bliss +to have just one man devoted to her, but now that she had four she found +that she never had a minute to herself. Whether she wanted to or not she +had to play tennis with Wallie Marshall, walk with George Barton, ride +the farmhorses with Peter Simmons, recite French verbs to Frederick +Befort or play accompaniments for Major Martingale, who still liked to +hear the young people sing the old war songs. And you know how it is +yourself if you have just had a generous portion of plum pudding you +don't care to see another plum pudding no matter how holly wreathed it +is. In spite of all the admiration and attention which were falling on +Rebecca Mary like an April shower she was not satisfied; she was +conscious of a vague longing for something, she didn't know what, for +she did not analyze the faint discontent which annoyed her. She only +knew that she wanted something which she did not have and she told +herself that she was an ungrateful beast to ask more of her talisman +when already the clover leaf had given her so much. + +It was the same way with Granny, who had looked on Riverside when she +arrived as a haven of rest, but she soon was as surfeited with rest as +Rebecca Mary was with admiration. Granny had so little to occupy her +mind that she just had to think of old Peter Simmons, to wonder uneasily +what he was doing, to ask herself if he were thinking of her instead of +his factory, if he had received her letter, and a thousand other things +all of which had old Peter Simmons for their subject. Twice Major +Martingale found her with her hand on the door of the room which he used +as an office and which held the only telephone at Riverside and to which +he alone had the key. + +"Do you wish to leave any message with me?" he asked each time. + +"If I said what I wanted to say I expect the message would be left with +you," Granny said sadly. "You never would send it on. How much longer +will it be before we may leave, Major Martingale?" + +"You know as much about it as I do." Major Martingale was discouraged +just then and was sadly in need of a word of encouragement. + +But Granny hadn't enough encouragement for herself; she couldn't spare a +word for any man. "The twenty-second is a week from yesterday," she said +significantly. "I told you, you know, that we wouldn't stay a minute +after the twentieth," she added in case he had missed the significance. + +"I hope none of us will have to stay later than the twentieth, but you +should have thought of that before you came." + +"Came!" Granny was indignant. "I didn't come!" + +"Well, I didn't bring you!" He was too exasperated to remember the +courtesy which is ever due a lady. + +"A perfect bear, my dear," Granny told Rebecca Mary five minutes later. +"If he has his way we'll be here for Thanksgiving," she prophesied +gloomily. + +Rebecca Mary sat up on the _chaise longue_ where she had hidden herself +for a quiet half hour and stared at her. "Thanksgiving! We can't stay +that long. Why, school begins the first of September!" The beginning of +school was an event so large in the life of Rebecca Mary that everything +should give away to it. Everything always had. + +"Major Martingale wouldn't care for that. It isn't our wishes nor our +convenience he is thinking of. If we could do anything to help him I +shouldn't say a word. If we even knew anything about this wonderful +experiment it would be different, but we might as well be in New York or +Bombay for all we know of what is going on in that shop. We couldn't +tell anything intelligent enough for even a German to understand. I'm +beginning to feel that the whole thing is nonsense, Rebecca Mary, and so +I don't think that we have to stay. And I'm worried for fear Edith won't +order things the way I want them for my golden wedding. I never meant to +stay away so long. I'm sorry we ever started for Seven Pines. But we can +go back. We'll run away from here." + +"But how can we run away from Riverside?" It didn't sound as easy to +Rebecca Mary as it had to Granny. + +"I'll find a way." Granny was not to be daunted. "I'll have to. I'm tired +being a prisoner." + +"So am I." Joan dropped her doll and came to tell them that she, too, +was ready to leave Riverside. "I'd like to go somewhere else." + +"I'm sorry now," went on Granny, "that I didn't stay at home and let +old Peter Simmons ask his tormenting question and take the +consequences." + +"I'm not!" Indeed, Rebecca Mary wasn't. She had made far too many +payments on her memory insurance policy ever to regret the past few +weeks. "You see, we've helped here," she explained when Granny and Joan +had cried, "You're not!" "The boys say we've been an inspiration to +them, that they have worked a lot better because we were here to cheer +them up." + +"They would have worked a lot faster if we hadn't been here." There was +a dry tone to Granny's soft voice which sent the ready color into +Rebecca Mary's cheeks. "I've no doubt Joan and I have furnished lots of +inspiration. It is pleasant to think so, isn't it, Joan?" + +Joan looked doubtful. "Is it the same as being a nuisance? Mrs. Erickson +said we were all nuisances, but I was the biggest. But she never said we +were inspirations." + +"Let her complain to Major Martingale. Is that only two o'clock?" as the +old clock called to them from the hall. "How many hours are there left +until bedtime?" There was no doubt that Granny was losing patience. + +It was a warm sultry day, the sort of a July day which tries the +disposition in normal conditions, and by evening every one was more or +less on edge. It showed in the increased politeness with which they +spoke and in the silence which fell over them as they sat on the terrace +under the stars and tried to think that there was a breeze blowing up +from the river. Joan had gone to bed most reluctantly, and her father +was sitting beside Rebecca Mary on the broad balustrade. Peter sat on +the other side so that they made a sandwich of her. And in front of her +lounged Wallie in a steamer chair reciting nonsense rhymes to which she +scarcely listened, and not a yard from Wallie was George Barton singing +sentimental verses under his breath as he touched the strings of a +ukelele. + +Not so many days had passed since Rebecca Mary would have thought that +it would be heaven for a girl to sit on the terrace balustrade of a +beautiful old country place with a Luxembourg count on one side of her +and a _croix de guerre_ man on the other while two very likable young +men were in front of her, but now she was only vaguely conscious that +they were not what she wanted at all. She didn't want any more plum +pudding. She wished irritably that they wouldn't sit so close to her. +She wanted all the air she could get. And her wandering thoughts led +her back to where she would be if she were not at Riverside and that +brought her to Cousin Susan and the mysterious talisman and to--Richard +Cabot. When her thoughts reached Richard they loitered there with a +strange little feeling of satisfaction. She knew that Richard would +never have let her remain so uncomfortable on a hot July night. Richard +would have taken her for a swift ride in his big car to some cool place +where ice tinkled in tall glasses. Rebecca Mary was not exactly fair for +it was not the fault of Peter nor Wallie nor George nor even Frederick +Befort that she was not flying over the country road with them. But +Rebecca Mary did not want to be fair. She just wished that Richard were +there--she wished---- + +She startled Peter and Frederick Befort and offended Wallie and George +by jumping to her feet in the middle of Wallie's funniest poem and the +most sentimental of George's songs. But before she could utter a word of +explanation or apology there came the sound of voices and another sound, +sharp and clear like a trumpet. It woke Granny, who was half asleep in +her chair. + +"God bless my soul!" she exclaimed, and she sat up with a bewildered, +almost a frightened, expression on her face. "No one blows his nose +like that but old Peter Simmons. He must have come for me. Run, Peter!" +She was in a panic. "And tell him to stay in the road. Major Martingale +will lock him up if he comes in." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Before the appearance of old Peter Simmons proved the truth of what had +sent Granny into a panic, that the sonorous trumpet was a part of him, +Granny had disappeared. + +"Where's your grandmother?" old Peter demanded of young Peter at once, +but young Peter couldn't tell him. + +And when Rebecca Mary went in search of Granny she had to come back +alone for her knock on Granny's door brought no answer. There was not a +sound from Granny's room. + +"Perhaps she is asleep," Rebecca Mary suggested, but she stammered for +she was quite sure Granny was not asleep. Why, it was not five minutes +since she had been on the terrace. + +Old Peter Simmons looked at her from under the grizzled eyebrows which +he drew together in a frown so deep that Rebecca Mary almost thought he +was going to dash up the stairs and make Granny open the door. + +"H-m," he said slowly, "I hope she is asleep. She has had a hard time +the last few years; all women have. I'm glad she had sense enough to +come here away from people and things and get a little rest. We must +humor her." He looked at wide-eyed Rebecca Mary for a second and then +turned to young Peter. "If your grandmother has gone to bed we might as +well get to work at once. I want to see just what you men have done. +We'll go right out to the shop. Martingale is already there. Take good +care of my wife!" He stopped in front of Rebecca Mary and spoke in the +tone of a man who was obeyed. + +"Yes, sir, I shall," stuttered bewildered Rebecca Mary as she stared +from him to young Peter and back again to him. Young Peter Simmons had +exactly the same forehead, the same bright blue eyes, the same, oh, the +very same square jaw. Rebecca Mary was positive as she looked from him +to his grandfather that when young Peter had been married fifty years +less a few days he would look exactly like old Peter Simmons, and +probably be exactly like old Peter Simmons, too. Rebecca Mary caught a +startled, a frightened, breath. She was glad to remember that there had +been a twinkle in old Peter Simmons' eye when he had asked for Granny. +She went slowly up the stairs and Joan, like a small ghost in her white +nightie, met her in the hall. + +"Who is it?" she asked eagerly. "Is it Santa Claus or Uncle Sam? Granny +won't tell me. I asked her through the keyhole, but she never said a +word. I looked out of the window and I could see a man as tall as Uncle +Sam but he didn't wear Uncle Sam's pretty striped clothes. He was as big +around as Santa Claus but he didn't have Santa Claus' bushy whiskers. I +should think, Miss Wyman, dear, you would tell me who he is?" she +finished fretfully. + +"I shan't tell you anything unless you are in bed before I count ten," +Rebecca Mary said sternly. + +But when Joan was in bed before Rebecca Mary had counted six she looked +so small and helpless that Rebecca Mary was ashamed of her impatience +and told her quickly that it was not Uncle Sam nor yet Santa Claus who +had arrived with such a flourish of trumpets, but old Mr. Simmons, +Granny's husband and young Peter's grandfather. + +"Shut your eyes, Joan, and go to sleep or it will be morning before you +know it." + +"Oh!" Joan had seldom been more disappointed. "I don't think that's very +interesting, do you? Perhaps it is to Granny," she added with tardy +politeness, "but it isn't to me. I'll shut my eyes, Miss Wyman, but I +can't seem to shut my mind to-night, and so I can't go to sleep. I have +to think of Uncle Sam and Santa Claus and the big Mr. Simmons. It won't +be my fault if it is morning before I know it!" she wailed. + +Altogether it took some time as well as two songs before Joan could shut +her mind as well as her eyes. Rebecca Mary straightened the counterpane +and looked at the flushed little face on the pillow. When she was asleep +Joan looked like an angel. Rebecca Mary could scarcely believe that she +would ever be as irritating as a mosquito as she patted the black head +before she went to her own room. + +She crossed to the window and looked down on the garden. A dull +puff-puff, the foolish chatter of a gasoline engine, was the only sound +which broke the fragrant silence, and Rebecca Mary knew that it came +from the shop where old Peter Simmons was being shown what had been +done. Now that she had time to think of it, Rebecca Mary could not +understand how old Peter Simmons could come trumpeting into Riverside +when no one was allowed to enter Riverside. It was shut off from the +world and protected by a guard. But old Peter Simmons had managed to +pass the guard, and he had come as a general in command. Was that +because he was the head of a large manufacturing plant or was it +because--because---- It couldn't be possible that old Peter Simmons was +the Big Boss of whom the men spoke with such respect! But if he wasn't +the Big Boss why had the men treated him so deferentially and taken him +at once to the forbidden shop? And he had not been at all surprised to +hear that Granny was at Riverside. He had asked for her at once. Rebecca +Mary had to giggle as she stood there in the fragrant silence and +thought what it meant if old Peter Simmons really was the Big Boss of +the Riverside experiment. + +She was interrupted in the very middle of another giggle for the door +into Granny's room opened suddenly and there stood Granny, a much +perplexed but determined Granny. She wore her hat and motor coat and +carried a bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other. Rebecca Mary +wondered where she had found the umbrella and why she carried it as she +stared at her. + +"Aren't you ready, Rebecca Mary?" asked Granny in a stage whisper. + +"Ready for what?" Rebecca Mary had to laugh even though Granny did wear +such a perplexed face for she had to remember that other night when +Granny had come to her in her hat and motor coat. + +Granny frowned. "I told you this morning that we would not stay here any +longer. And now that old Peter Simmons has come I simply must leave at +once. You have no idea, Rebecca Mary, what a tease that man can be. He +never would let me forget that I started for Seven Pines and landed a +prisoner at Riverside. If you had been teased for almost fifty years by +a man like old Peter Simmons you'd understand how I feel. And he would +be sure to ask me what I wanted for my golden wedding present. I've told +you how I feel about that question. If I should hear it again I should +scream. What is old Peter Simmons here for anyway? I didn't ask him to +come for me. I never told him I was here. There must have been a leak, +just what Major Martingale was afraid of." + +But when Rebecca Mary told Granny her suspicions Granny looked at her in +horrified surprise before she nodded her gray head. "I believe you are +right," she said slowly. "That explains a lot of things I haven't been +able to understand. No wonder young Peter was so sure he could get a +letter to his grandfather. But that makes it just impossible for me to +stay another minute, Rebecca Mary. Imagine what old Peter will say when +he hears that I ran away from him only to run right to him. I haven't +the nerves I used to have. The situation is too ridiculous. Come, we'll +just slip away." + +"I'm afraid they will hear me take the car out." Rebecca Mary did not +think it would be as easy to slip away as Granny evidently did. + +"We won't take the car. We each have two feet. We can climb the fence +and once in the road some one is sure to pick us up. I declare I don't +see why we didn't go before. If I had known that old Peter Simmons was +the Big Boss I shouldn't have stayed a minute. We'll go--anywhere!" +Granny flung out her hands, the umbrella and the bag, too, as if she +didn't care a picayune where they went so long as they left Riverside. +"If we stay here old Peter Simmons will be sure to talk to me. He's so +resourceful and determined, and he does have such a way with him. I +don't know why I feel like this, Rebecca Mary!" Her revolt was such a +surprise to her that she had to speak of it whenever the golden wedding +was mentioned. "I suppose this is just the last straw. I've been patient +with old Peter Simmons for almost fifty years, but I can't be patient +over my golden wedding present. And I can't be teased, so we must run +away again." + +"Poor little Granny!" Rebecca Mary slipped an arm around her and hugged +her. Even if she wasn't perfectly contented at Riverside, Rebecca Mary +wasn't sure that she wanted to run away again. She had heard that a bird +in the hand is worth a lot more than one in the bush. If she ran away +with Granny she would leave behind her young Peter and Wallie and George +and--and Count Ernach de Befort. She might never see one of them again. + +Then she straightened her spine and her eyes flashed. If she didn't see +them again it would be because they didn't care to see her. They could +find her if they really wished to find her. They had been wonderful to +her, and it had been splendid to be a popular girl, but perhaps they had +given her so much devotion and so much attention just because she was +the only girl at Riverside. She had spent a great many minutes wondering +which of them she liked the best. It might be as interesting to learn +which of them liked her the best, to prove if there was anything in the +admiration they had expressed so freely. Which would find her first? +Yes, she would run away with Granny and put them to the test, she +decided just as Granny caught her arm between her fingers and her +umbrella and shook her. + +"Come, come, Rebecca Mary! Wake up. We must slip away before the men +come back from the shop." + +"Joan!" exclaimed Rebecca Mary, hesitating, although she had made up her +mind. + +"We'll leave Joan with her father. That is where a child should be, with +her parents. Come, Rebecca Mary, or I'll go alone." And she crossed the +room alone. + +Rebecca Mary did not feel exactly comfortable to leave Joan with her +father although she knew that Granny was right when she said a child +belonged with her parents, but she ran after Granny and took the bag +from her. She couldn't let Granny run away alone. + +The lights were out in the hall, and they felt their way down the +stairs. There was something fearsome in the slow descent for Granny's +hand gripped her hard, and Granny's breath came in short quick gasps. +There was no doubt in Rebecca Mary's mind that Granny really did not +want to be teased by old Peter Simmons. + +The front door stood wide open so that the moonlight made a bright +splash between the dark walls. Rebecca Mary and Granny reached the +threshold in safety. It only remained to dash across the lawn, climb +the fence and turn up their noses at the authority of fat Major +Martingale who had said no one could leave Riverside. The shrubbery +would conceal them for more than half the way. Granny's hand relaxed, +and she stopped breathing like a spent porpoise. + +"I do believe we'll make it," she whispered excitedly. + +And then she gave a little scream, for out of the shadow made by a white +lilac emerged a short fat figure, and a curt voice asked them where they +were going. + +"Oh, Major Martingale!" Granny's voice quavered. "I thought you were at +the shop with the other men. Whoever would have expected to meet you +here!" + +"Evidently you didn't." The Major was all grim suspicion. "May I ask +where you are going?" + +Granny pinched Rebecca Mary's arm. "It was so warm upstairs that we came +down for a breath of air," she explained with a little sniff of +defiance, as though she dared him to object to their desire for air. + +"I'm glad you put on your hats and brought your baggage," remarked the +Major coldly, and he glanced significantly at the umbrella and the bag. +"Night air is so deceptive, you can't tell when you will need an +umbrella." He looked at the cloudless sky. "Or extra clothing." He wiped +the perspiration from his hot forehead. + +"Yes, isn't it!" Granny emulated Moses and was as meek as meek, butter +would not have melted in her mouth just then. "Come, Rebecca Mary. +Good-night, Major Martingale." And with Rebecca Mary's hand in hers she +turned to the terrace as if she really had come down all hatted and +coated for a walk in the moonlight. + +"If it is so warm upstairs I shan't go to bed yet." Major Martingale +fell in at her other hand. "I'll walk with you." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Granny woke in the morning with a headache. Rebecca Mary found her with +heavy eyes and flushed cheeks when she went in to see if she would get +up for breakfast. + +"I have such a headache," Granny moaned piteously. + +"Poor dear!" Rebecca Mary put her fresh cool hand against Granny's hot +old face. "Then you should stay in bed. You mustn't get up for +breakfast." + +"I shan't." Granny was a model of obedience. "I couldn't," she said with +another moan. "I shan't be any good all day. I always have to stay in +bed when I have one of these attacks, and I just want to be left alone. +I don't want to see any one! You can tell old Peter Simmons that it was +worrying over my golden wedding present that gave me this headache. That +should make him ashamed of himself. No, I don't want a thing but to be +left alone." + +But Rebecca Mary shook up her pillows and smoothed her bed and pulled +down the shades and kissed her hot forehead, and said it was a horrid +shame that she was ill, and she hoped that Granny would be better soon, +and she certainly should tell old Peter Simmons what Granny had said. +Then she tiptoed out and shut the door very softly behind her. + +Old Peter Simmons was very sorry to hear that Granny was ill, and he +thought she was very sensible to stay in bed until she was better; he +knew those headaches and there was nothing for them but quiet and rest, +but as for the golden wedding present---- + +"That's nonsense, perfect nonsense!" he declared stoutly. "Can't she +trust me?" + +Rebecca Mary slowly shook her head. "I think she feels that she has +trusted you and now she isn't sure she can trust herself," she ventured +demurely. It was rather fun for Rebecca Mary to stand before the great +Peter Simmons and find fault with him. + +"And my past is against me." Old Peter Simmons admitted it ruefully. "I +don't know why it is so confoundedly hard to remember some things. You +women! Can't you learn that an anniversary or a holiday is just a day, +just one of the three hundred and sixty-five which make up a year?" + +"Anniversaries and holidays are the decorations of the year," Rebecca +Mary told him quickly. He should have known that without being told. No +one had ever had to tell her. + +Old Peter Simmons looked at her from under his shaggy eyebrows. "You are +all alike, you women," he grumbled. "And I guess men are pretty much +alike, too. Decoration doesn't mean as much to us. But my wife might +remember that I've had a good deal on my mind the last few years. She +has, too," he admitted honestly. "Peter will never know how many nights +his grandmother lay awake worrying about him. She did too much, all that +Red Cross work during the war and all the refugee work after the war. +And now she's worrying over this golden wedding of hers." He spoke as if +the golden wedding belonged exclusively to Granny. "She should be home +where she could look after it herself. She shouldn't be here." + +"She can't help that!" Rebecca Mary was indignant that old Peter Simmons +should blame Granny for what wasn't her fault. "She didn't want to +stay." + +"You made the rule yourself," stammered Major Martingale, who was +waiting fussily to carry old Peter Simmons away. Major Martingale was +indignant, also. "When we had so much trouble with the labor agitators +you said no one was to leave Riverside. Absolutely no one, you said!" He +bristled like an angry turkey cock. + +"Sure, I made the rule," admitted old Peter Simmons. "I made it for you +and the boys and the mechanics. But I didn't make it for my wife and her +friends." + +"How did I know you hadn't sent her?" began the Major bitterly, but old +Peter Simmons wouldn't let him finish. + +"Why should I send a woman, two women, to a place I had chosen for an +important experiment which I wanted to work out in secret? That's +nonsense, Major! At the same time I believe that it has done Mrs. +Simmons good to be here. I'm glad you did keep her. There hasn't been +anything for her to do so she has been able to get some rest. It hasn't +been bad for you, either, young lady." And he nodded his grizzled head +approvingly as he looked at rosy cheeked Rebecca Mary. + +"Women," muttered the Major in a dark dank way, "are always interfering. +They do their best to ruin things for a man." + +"Oh!" Rebecca Mary looked at old Peter Simmons for help. + +He gave it to her at once. "My experience, Major Martingale," he said +slowly, "is that women help men more than they hinder them. I've had +fifty years to prove a decision I made on my wedding day, that a woman +perfects a man's life, and I know that I'm correct. Yes, I'll be right +out," as the Major moved hastily and suggestively toward the door. +"Don't wait for me." + +"If you feel that way," Rebecca Mary said impulsively, "why do you tease +Granny?" She was rather scared when she had put the question, but she +looked at him as if she were not scared at all. + +Old Peter Simmons seemed nonplussed for a moment. "On my soul, I don't +know. Mrs. Simmons used to like me to tease her, and so I kept on. But +I'm afraid she doesn't care for it as much as she did," he admitted +ruefully. + +"Indeed, she doesn't!" Rebecca Mary wondered why on earth he kept on +teasing Granny when he knew Granny didn't like to be teased. Rebecca +Mary was beginning to feel sorry for old Peter Simmons, although she did +think that even the head of a big manufacturing plant should have room +in his mind for anniversaries and holidays. His mind shouldn't be filled +entirely with contracts. + +"Does she honestly expect me to remember that golden wedding present?" +The twinkle was more pronounced than ever in old Peter Simmons' blue +eyes. "Can't you give me a clue?" he begged with a chuckle, but Rebecca +Mary couldn't. She hadn't any idea herself what it was that Granny +Simmons and her husband had talked about so many times. Granny Simmons +had never told her. + +So old Peter Simmons had to go away muttering that women were the +dickens, the very dickens. That was exactly what they were. How was he +to know what one of them wanted for a golden wedding present? And even +if his wife had told him what she wanted, if they had talked it over +hundreds of times together, how could he be sure that she would want it +on the golden wedding day? Women changed their minds once a minute. A +man was never sure of them. But his eyes twinkled as he grumbled, and +Rebecca Mary's eyes twinkled, too. There was no doubt that old Peter +Simmons was the greatest kind of a tease. Granny had described him +perfectly. + +They were in the big parlor where the old portrait of Richard Cabot's +great-grandmother hung. Rebecca Mary never thought of that portrait as +Joshua Cabot's great-grandmother, but always as Richard's +great-grandmother. And when old Peter Simmons went grumbling and +twinkling away, Rebecca Mary looked up at the portrait. + +"I wonder if your husband gave you what you wanted on holidays and +anniversaries?" she asked impulsively. "And do you think your +great-grandson will remember his golden wedding without being reminded?" + +"I don't know what it is, but I'm sure this great-grandson will make a +desperate effort to remember anything you want him to remember," +exclaimed a voice behind her. + +Like a red and yellow wooden top, Rebecca Mary swung around and +saw--would wonders ever cease?--Richard Cabot, himself. It was not the +Richard Cabot she had seen in Waloo for that Richard had always looked +as if he had just stepped from a brand new bandbox and this Richard +didn't look as if he had ever seen a bandbox. His hair was too rumpled +and his clothes too crumpled. Rebecca Mary stared at him, her eyes and +mouth big round O's of astonishment. Her heart suddenly climbed into her +throat and promised to choke her as he crossed the room with quick eager +steps. + +"Aren't you going to say that you are glad to see me?" He took the hand +she was far too surprised to offer him. + +"Where did you come from?" She didn't seem able to find her every-day +voice and had to use her Sunday one, which shook a little. "Are you a +prisoner, too?" Rebecca Mary hoped that he was. Although there were four +men at Riverside all devoted to her, you see she was not satisfied. She +wanted a fifth, even if this fifth man did make her heart beat so +uncomfortably. "There is a very jolly crowd of prisoners here," she +added encouragingly. "I'm sure you will like them." + +Richard looked from her sunburnt fingers to her face, which was a most +adorable pink, and knew that he had not been mistaken--she was just what +he had thought she was. + +"If I had known you were here I should have come long ago," he said +quite as if he could come and go as he pleased. Evidently he had not met +stern Major Martingale. "How could you run away without leaving a word +for me?" he went on reproachfully. "I tried to make old Pierson tell me +where you were, but all she would say was that Granny had taken you on a +motor trip. I thought that meant Seven Pines and called up the house +only to be told by Mrs. Swenson that for the first time in seven years +old Mrs. Simmons had disappointed her. She had promised to come to +Otillie's wedding and the wedding was on and Mrs. Simmons hadn't come. +Mrs. Swenson didn't know whether to be mad or worried. And I was in the +same boat. I wrote to Mifflin, and when I didn't hear a word from you I +thought that perhaps you had decided that you didn't like bankers. I +sure was sore!" He laughed softly as if now, with Rebecca Mary's hand +still in his, it was rather amusing to remember how sore he had been. + +Guilty consciousness was plainly written on Rebecca Mary's pink and +white forehead. "It wasn't my fault." She made the best defense she +could. "I didn't have a minute in which to send any one word. And since +we have been here we couldn't send words. You must remember that I have +been a prisoner." And she laughed as if it were the greatest fun in the +world to be a prisoner. + +"A prisoner in my great-grandmother's old home," smiled Richard, who had +not been half as surprised to see her as Rebecca Mary had expected him +to be. Indeed, he had not seemed surprised at all. "How do you like my +great-grandmother?" he asked in a whisper as if he did not wish his +great-grandmother to hear Rebecca Mary's answer. + +"We're the greatest friends," she whispered back. "And I like your +great-grandfather's old house enormously, but I don't quite like to be +a prisoner." + +"You'll be given your freedom soon," promised Richard, quite as if he +knew all about her case. "Things are moving right along out there." He +nodded in the direction of the shop. "I shouldn't be surprised if you +were released very soon now." + +"Are you interested in this mysterious experiment, too? Granny and I are +dying to know about it for all that we are sure of is that an aviator, a +chemical engineer and an electrical engineer and a United States Army +officer and a Luxembourg count are working on it with a lot of Waloo +mechanics. It is a very confusing combination. Major Martingale insists +that it is, oh, frightfully important and that Germany is reaching out +grabbing hands for it. He scowls like a pirate if we ask any questions +at all. At first we thought it must have something to do with +aëroplanes, on account of Peter, you know, and then we thought of a +wireless something, but when the Luxembourg count was tangled up with it +we stopped trying to imagine what it was. We hear the weirdest noises +and smell the weirdest smells but they don't tell us anything." She +smiled expectantly and waited for him to tell her all about the great +experiment, but when he never told her a word but just smiled at her +she crinkled her nose and went on more slowly: "And now if a banker is +added to the staff we shall be more hopelessly at sea than ever." + +His smile grew into a laugh. "The banker hasn't very much to do with it, +but Major Martingale is right. The thing is tremendously important. And +Germany does want to grab it. It would do a lot to reinstate her +commercially and she is still making every effort to get control of it. +That's why Major Martingale has been so cautious. He didn't want to run +any risk of a leak. Did you know that old Mr. Simmons is the Big Boss?" +Then Rebecca Mary had guessed right. She was sure she had, but she liked +to hear Richard tell her that she had. + +"He brought me down with him last night and old Martingale caught me as +soon as we passed the guard and carried me off to the shop. That is why +I didn't see you last night and why now I'm so suggestive of 'the +morning after.' But you haven't said yet that you were glad to see me," +he said suddenly, and he took Rebecca Mary's other hand. "It has seemed +a thundering long time since I saw you. Has it seemed long to you?" He +bent his tall head so that he could look into her eyes. + +But before Rebecca Mary could tell him whether the days since she had +seen him had dragged or whether they had exceeded the speed limit Major +Martingale's harsh voice was heard in the hall. + +"Cabot!" he bellowed. "Where are you?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Rebecca Mary's nose was out of joint. The great experiment proved so +absorbing that at noon Ben carried sandwiches and milk to the shop, and +Frederick Befort was the only man who joined Rebecca Mary and Joan at +the big table in the dining room. Frederick Befort seemed in a strange +mood. At one moment he would be wildly excited and tell some extravagant +story which made the two girls laugh heartily, and the next minute he +would frown at his plate or jump up and go to the window which +overlooked the path which led to the shop. + +"Those may be Luxembourg manners," Rebecca Mary thought disapprovingly. +"But why isn't he at the shop with the others?" + +"If Granny Simmons were here she'd say you had the fidgets," remarked +Joan precociously. "She always tells me that I have the fidgets when I +can't sit still." + +"It is a day to make a man have the fidgets," and her father stopped on +his way back from the window to pat her cheek. "You will never know, +_mignonne_, what this day means to your father." + +"You could tell me?" hinted Joan. + +But he only laughed and patted her cheek again before he went back to +his place. Rebecca Mary looked at him curiously. What a strange man he +was, not a bit like an American, like young Peter or--or Richard. She +wasn't sure she understood him, he was so strange. But she really didn't +bother very much about Frederick Befort then for she, too, was in a +strange mood. She wanted to be by herself and think. She scarcely knew +of what she wanted to think but she was conscious of a little glow of +content. Perhaps if she went down by the river bank she could discover +why she felt so contented and happy when she had been so restless and +unreasonable. She was glad to hear Frederick Befort promise to play ball +with Joan although she wondered again why he did not go to the shop, but +that was his business, not hers. + +She ran upstairs to find Granny asleep and with a sigh of relief she +crossed the terrace on her way to the river bank. But Joan called to her +from the tennis court and ran toward her. Rebecca Mary might have +ignored the childish hail once, but she couldn't do it now, and she +walked slowly toward the court. + +"Look what my father made for me!" Joan demanded breathlessly. She +always spoke of her father with an emphasis as if her father was made of +"sugar and spice and everything nice" while other fathers were +compounded of dust and water without a grain of seasoning. She held up +what was meant to be a ball, but it was made from an old glove stuffed +with--papers. Rebecca Mary could feel them crackle. The glove fingers +were wound around the palm to hold the papers firm. It really wasn't +much of a ball to any one but Joan, who capered proudly and almost +snatched it from Rebecca Mary as if she could not quite trust even her +with it. "My father made it for me," she repeated joyously. + +Her father laughed. "Miss Wyman does not think that was any great feat, +_ma petite_," he teased. "She does not think it is a very good ball." + +Miss Wyman was a true descendant of George Washington, and she horrified +Joan by confessing that Frederick Befort was right, and she had seen +better balls than the one he had made out of an old glove and some +scraps of paper. + +"What do you really think yourself?" She caught a tennis ball from the +court, where it lay neglected, and showed him what a ball could be. + +"But that's a ball from a store!" Joan saw the difference in a flash. +"And my father never made a ball before. He said so. This is the first +one he ever made, and he made it for me." + +"No one else would accept it." He pinched her cheek. "Now, Joan, you +must play by yourself. I must go to the shop, but I tell you again you +cannot throw this ball I made over the hedge. It is not like a store +ball." + +"If you wait I'll show you!" Joan was only too eager to show what she +could do, but he turned impatiently away. + +"This may be the greatest day of my life, Miss Wyman." He stopped in +front of her. "Will you be so very kind as to wish me luck?" He took the +hand which hung at her side and pressed it. + +She looked at him in surprise, and she was more surprised when she saw +the flush on his usually pale face. She wondered why this should be such +a great day, but as he did not tell her she did not ask but prettily +offered her best wishes. He pressed her hand again and went toward the +shop with long eager steps. Rebecca Mary looked after him curiously. She +shook her head. No, she didn't understand him at all, not even a little +bit. And because a closed box is always more fascinating than an open +one she would have continued to think of Frederick Befort if Joan would +have let her. But Joan was pulling her sleeve. + +"I'll show you, then, Miss Wyman. Shall I? Shall I show you that I can +throw my ball over the hedge?" She was on tiptoe to show Miss Wyman. + +Rebecca Mary looked at the only hedge near them, the arbor vitæ which +kept Riverside from spilling into the road, and shook her head. "You'll +lose it if you do. You can't go after it, you know." She reminded Joan +that she was a prisoner. + +"The guard will bring it to me if I ask him." Joan was not a bit afraid +that she would lose her ball even if Rebecca Mary did shake her head and +doubt whether the guard would leave his post by the gate to hunt among +the bushes which edged the road for a ball. She raised her arm to send +the ball flying over the hedge, but Rebecca Mary caught her hand. + +"I fear your father is not a very good ball maker, Joan. See, the +fingers have come unfastened. The stuffing is falling out." She took the +glove from Joan and tried to push the papers back into it. + +"The stuffing is my father's papers. He took them from his pocket," +Joan told her proudly. "Can you put them back?" + +"I'd better sew them in or they will be all over the place. Why----" she +broke off to stare at one of the scraps of papers which had fallen into +her hand. There were figures on it and a tiny drawing and a few German +words. How strange! She pulled a larger piece from the glove and after +she had smoothed it she found more German words. + +Like an express train dashing through a country station many things +dashed through Rebecca Mary's brain as she stood and looked at the bits +of paper. She remembered what Major Martingale had said about the great +experiment, how important it was and how Germany was trying to get +control of it to regain her old position in the commercial world. She +remembered that Frederick Befort had been named for one kaiser and had +been a friend of another kaiser, who had decorated him. She remembered +many things Joan had said about Germany and that the kaiser had called +her "_ein gutes Kind, Johanna_," and Joan's whisper that her father did +not wish her to speak of Germany now, he wanted her to forget Germany. +She remembered also that Frederick Befort had said he was from +Luxembourg where the Germans had had great influence and power, that he +had gone to school in Germany. And Mrs. Erickson had heard him talking +German to one of the mechanics behind the woodshed! + +Rebecca Mary had heard many a spy story during the war, and she shivered +as she looked at the bits of paper in her hand. Oh, it couldn't be +possible that Frederick Befort had come to the Simmons factory, that he +had come to Riverside to obtain possession of the secret of this great +experiment which was to do so much for the world. He couldn't be one of +the German secret agents which the newspapers had had so much to say +about during the war. It wasn't possible, and yet when she had added one +to one and then to two and three she could obtain but one answer. + +The work at Riverside was practically finished. Richard had told her so +that morning. Frederick Befort would have all the information he wanted +by now, and, of course, he would wish to get it to Germany as soon as +possible. That was why he had torn his papers and stuffed them into an +old glove which Joan was to throw over the hedge. If the guard saw it he +would think it was only a child's plaything. A confederate was hiding in +the bushes and would catch the ball when it was tossed out. The whole +plan had been skillfully thought out and was now as plain as print to +Rebecca Mary's horrified mind. + +Joan pulled her sleeve impatiently. "Can't you fix it? Let me take it +and throw it over the hedge as my father told me." She tried to take the +ball from Rebecca Mary. + +"No, no! Leave it alone, Joan, or you'll have the papers all over the +grass." She had to think like chain lightning. "I'll run in and sew it +up. Don't tell your father," she cautioned chokingly. "He wouldn't like +it if he knew that his ball came to pieces so soon." + +With the ball in her hand, and Joan trotting along beside her, she went +back to the house wondering what on earth she should do and how she +could get rid of Joan for a few minutes. Joan found the way herself when +she saw the farmhouse kitten asleep on the steps. + +"It has run away. I'd better take it right back or Mrs. Erickson will be +cross with me again. She said I was always taking her things and +forgetting to bring them back." + +"Yes, run over with the kitten." Rebecca Mary knew if Joan once ran over +she would stay for some time, long enough perhaps to forget about the +ball, for there were wonderful things to interest a child at the +farmhouse. + +Rebecca Mary shut the door of her room and turned the key before she +pulled the rest of the papers from the old glove. Oh, there was no doubt +about it! The papers were covered with drawings and German words. +Rebecca Mary groaned. What should she do? She put her hands over her +eyes to shut out the sight of those German words, but she could not shut +the thought of them from her brain. She felt nauseated. To think that a +man would use his little daughter as Frederick Befort had planned to use +Joan. It was despicable. She never wanted to see Frederick Befort again, +and she had liked him so much. Why, only this noon---- She began to +understand now his extravagant gayety at luncheon, he had thought his +work was done, and he had stayed with them to find a way for Joan to +give the information he had collected to his confederates. No one would +suspect Joan. And she had wished him luck! She groaned again. It was all +so very plain to her that she turned and hid her face against the back +of the chair. + +After a long, long time, five minutes perhaps, she rose suddenly and +with her lips pressed tight together went to the desk and found an +envelop in which she put the scraps of paper. She looked about for a +place to hide the package for it was too bulky to carry in her pocket. + +Where would be a good place? She opened the closet door. Across one end +were several drawers and above them were two shelves. On the top shelf +was a bandbox. Rebecca Mary climbed up to the bandbox and looked into +it. She took out a hat and turning it over, tucked her package inside +the lining. Then she replaced the hat and put the box on the shelf. She +stood in the doorway and gazed anxiously at the box. It looked as +innocent as a box could look. No one ever would imagine that it held a +secret. Rebecca Mary sighed as she shut the closet door. + +Then she took several sheets of Sallie Cabot's best note paper and drew +meaningless lines on them and wrote what might be taken at a careless +glance for German words, and tore the paper into scraps with which she +stuffed the old glove. She would let Joan toss it over the hedge so Joan +could tell her father. If Frederick Befort thought his plans had reached +his confederate he would do nothing more. He couldn't get away himself, +and Rebecca Mary would have a little time in which to think what she +should do. She must tell someone, not Major Martingale, he would be +merciless, but Peter, or, no--Richard! Richard would be the man for her +to tell. But, oh, how she did hate to tell any one. Suppose she should +speak to Frederick Befort himself, persuade him to promise to forget +everything that had happened at Riverside, to remain true to the oath he +had given Major Martingale? If she could do that--if she only could. + +She had liked Frederick Befort. He was so different from any man she had +ever met. He had fascinated her with his talk of courts and grand +duchesses and emperors, she thought now a little bitterly. There was an +air of mystery about him which would pique a girl's interest, but if the +mystery meant that he was a German secret agent she wouldn't be +interested another minute. She would only be horrified and disgusted. +Oh, what should she do? Never had a teacher in the third grade of the +Lincoln school been given such a problem to solve. If only she could +wake up and find that it was a dream she would be so happy to forget it +all. She shouldn't want to remember this when she was sixty, she told +herself drearily. + +But it wasn't a dream. The old glove on the desk told her it wasn't, +and she took it in her hand. "Well, Count Ernach de Befort," she said +under her breath, "I have spoiled your scheme for the present. If Joan +throws this to your confederate he will be puzzled what to make of it." + +Even as she spoke Joan pounded on the door. + +"Are you there, Miss Wyman? Have you mended the ball my father made me? +Can't you be quicker? I want to throw it over the hedge before my father +comes to dinner." + +And she did throw it over the hedge as she stood on the tennis court. It +was a good throw for a little girl, and Joan was jubilant as she ran +across the court and climbed up on the stone wall, behind the arbor vitæ +to see where the ball had fallen. Rebecca Mary ran too, although her +legs did feel too weak to carry her, and her heart was beating so fast. +She caught the toes of her white oxfords in a cranny of the wall and +lifted herself so that she might look. But although they both looked and +looked there was no ball to be seen on that stretch of the road. Down by +the gate the guard was leaning against the fence, but the guard was not +a ball, and they were looking for a ball. + +"It's gone!" Joan was surprised. "Some one must have taken it. Who do +you think it was, Miss Wyman, a fairy or an ogre?" + +"An ogre!" Rebecca Mary said fiercely. She felt so fierce that she was +faint. "A horrid black ogre. Oh, Joan! Why did you throw it?" she +wailed. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Rebecca Mary's feet were as heavy as lead as she went back to the house, +and her heart was far heavier than her feet. Oh, Cousin Susan, Cousin +Susan, what a tangle you caught Rebecca Mary in when you persuaded her +to take out a memory insurance policy! + +It was later than she had thought, but the men had not come up from the +shop. Ben told her that they weren't coming, that he had just taken them +something to eat. He supposed that they would work all night again. + +Rebecca Mary looked at him blankly. She had thought that all she would +have to do would be to return to the house and call Richard aside and +slip her responsibility from her slim shoulders to his broad back. She +was so disappointed that she felt almost sick. What should she do? + +"Is Mr. Befort at the shop?" she asked Ben, trying her best to keep her +voice steady and her chin from trembling. + +"Yas'm, he's there with all the rest of 'em. They's gwine to make a +night ob it fo' suah. Will you gwine have yo' dinner now, Miss Wyman? +It's ready an' it won't be no better fer waitin'." + +Rebecca Mary was so relieved to hear that Frederick Befort was at the +shop that her chin stopped trembling. If Frederick Befort was with the +other men, with Richard and young Peter and old Peter, he wasn't trying +to get in touch with his confederates, and she could draw a long breath. +It didn't seem as if she had had a good breath since she had seen the +scraps of paper fall from the old glove. + +"Just a minute, Ben, until I run up and see if Mrs. Simmons feels well +enough to come down." + +"She don't," grumbled Ben. "Ah asted her an' she said Ah was ter brung +her up a tray. Folks seems to think Ah hain't got nothin' else ter do +but carry dinner here an' there an' yonder. Three in one night is more +than one nigger's job." + +"I know." Rebecca Mary was as sympathetic as she could be with her mind +full of something so much more important than dinner. "But perhaps it +won't happen again. You might serve Mrs. Simmons first. She didn't eat +any luncheon, and she must be hungry." + +As Rebecca Mary's leaden feet carried her up the stairs she wondered if +she should tell Granny and show her the proof of her story which was in +the bandbox in her closet. But as soon as she saw Granny in a thin +lavender negligee on the _chaise longue_ she decided that she wouldn't +tell her. Granny couldn't do anything, and she had enough to bother +about. Indeed, Granny did look pale and tired from spending her day with +the headache. She held out a welcoming hand when Rebecca Mary came in. + +"Where have you been all afternoon? I thought you were lost." + +"Have you missed me?" Rebecca Mary stooped to kiss the pale cheek. "You +were so sound asleep when I looked in that I thought you wouldn't be +awake for hours. I'm a brute that I didn't come in again." + +"I really haven't been awake very long," Granny admitted when she heard +how repentant Rebecca Mary was. "I do wish I were home, Rebecca Mary. It +was so silly to run away as we did. I might have known something would +happen. I'd give anything if we could be back in Waloo before old Peter +Simmons. I shan't mind his teasing so much at home. I shan't feel quite +so foolish there. A woman can't stand up to her husband as well as she +should if she feels foolish. I don't suppose there is any way we could +slip out?" she asked wistfully. + +No, Rebecca Mary didn't think there was any way, and even if there had +been she couldn't take it until she had told her story to Richard and +showed him the scraps of paper. But she would not tell Granny that; she +could only kiss Granny again and pet her and tell her that Richard had +said that they would be free soon to go where they pleased. + +She told Granny also what old Peter Simmons had said, that he had proved +the decision he had made on his wedding day, that his wife had perfected +his life. She made a very pretty speech of it, and it pleased Granny +enormously. + +"He always did have a nimble tongue," she murmured. "And he really does +have a lot of patience with me. Here is Ben with my dinner. I hope you +brought a lot, Ben. You know I didn't have any luncheon." + +"Yas'm. Ah hopes you gwine ter like the lower half of this spring +chicken, Mrs. Simmons? When Ah took the dinner out ter the shop Mr. +Simmons, he sez what you gwine give Mrs. Simmons fer her dinner? An' +when Ah done tell him spring chicken he sez ter brung you de lower half +'cause you gwine ter like de dark meat better'n you do de white." + +"He did?" Granny was surprised. "Well! well! So he does know what I +like. Rebecca Mary, why do you suppose he always asks me? Perhaps he has +remembered other things, too. Didn't I tell you he was a great tease? +Run down to your own dinner, child. I shall do very well. And you and +Joan must be hungry." + +Rebecca Mary had never felt less hungry in her life but she obediently +ran down. She thought she wouldn't eat a mouthful until she saw the +array of good things which Ben had prepared when she suddenly discovered +that she was hungry. Nothing would be gained by starving herself, she +thought, as she patted Joan's shoulder. + +"We shall serve ourselves," she told Ben. "And will you please go over +to the shop and ask Mr. Cabot if I may speak to him at once?" + +"Ah dunno as Ah dares. Old Mr. Simmons said he didn't want ter see any +one 'thin gunshot ob dat shop ter night. Maybe Ah could stand away an' +holler," he suggested helpfully. + +"Never mind then." Rebecca Mary spoke as carelessly as she could. +"Perhaps he'll be up before long." + +"If you ast me Ah'd say they won't be along 'fo' sunrise. Ah'm to take +'em another meal at midnight. That 'speriment suah makes 'em hungry." + +"You can tell Mr. Cabot then that I should like to speak to him at +once." Midnight was better than nothing, than morning. + +"Yas'm. Maybe Ah can. Ah can try." + +"Do you want to tell we why you want to talk to Mr. Cabot?" asked Joan +curiously. "You haven't talked to me very much since we came to dinner." + +"I think I must be tired. Suppose you talk to me? What did Mrs. Erickson +say when you took the kitten back?" It was a safe question for Mrs. +Erickson was sure to say considerable. Joan repeated Mrs. Erickson's +words and added enough of her own to last through dinner. She caught +Rebecca Mary's hand as they rose from the table. + +"Shall we go and play ball, Miss Wyman? I have a new tennis ball I +borrowed from Mr. Marshall." + +Ball! Rebecca Mary never wanted to see another ball in her life. There +had been one ball too many in it as it was. She forced herself to smile +at Joan. "I must go up to Granny, honey," she said slowly. "She has been +alone all day. You will have to play by yourself. If Mr. Cabot comes up +from the shop, or Mr. Peter, or even old Mr. Simmons, will you call me, +please?" + +She stood in the doorway and looked across the lawn in the direction of +the shop. The chatter of the gasoline engine came to her faintly, +puff-puff. She wondered if she should run across and call to Richard +herself, and she decided that she had better wait. She must do nothing +to make Frederick Befort suspect that she knew why he was at Riverside. + +When at last she went upstairs she found that Granny was not inclined +for conversation. + +"If you'll hand me that book, Rebecca Mary, I'll finish it. There is a +silly little heroine in it who can't make up her mind which of three men +she loves." + +"Do you think it is always easy for a girl to know what to do?" Rebecca +Mary asked wistfully. Rebecca Mary was almost overwhelmed at the number +of things she had discovered that a girl should know. + +Granny began a rather scornful speech but as she looked at Rebecca +Mary's troubled little face she changed it for a more sympathetic one. + +"No, I don't. I think it's very hard sometimes for every one, for even +an old lady, to know what is best to do. But if you were in a book, +Rebecca Mary, it would be easy. All you would have to do would be to +wait for your knight of the four-leaf clover," she laughed. + +"Oh, that!" Rebecca Mary had lost all pleasure in her mysterious +talisman; it had brought her all at once such a huge amount of bad luck. +"But how am I going to find him?" she asked impatiently. "It's weeks +since that day at the Waloo, and I don't know any more than I did then." + +"Don't you?" Granny raised quizzical eyebrows. + +"Well, not much." Rebecca Mary didn't wish to talk of clover leaves, but +it would be easier to follow Granny's lead than to offer one of her own. +If she talked of what was really in her thoughts she would frighten +Granny into hysterics. "I know that Peter and Mr. Cabot were there that +afternoon and Wallie Marshall and George Barton. Even old Major +Martingale was there eating hot buttered toast, but I can't make one of +them say that he gave me that clover leaf. You don't think it was Major +Martingale, do you?" Rebecca Mary would rather never know the truth if +fat old Major Martingale had given her the talisman. + +Granny chuckled. "Ask him, Rebecca Mary. Run along and ask him. You are +sillier than this silly heroine." + +Rebecca Mary never passed such an evening in her life. It was long, +endlessly long, and dreary and lonely, for Joan went to bed and Granny +insisted on following the adventures of her silly heroine. Rebecca Mary +thought she would go mad as she stood on the terrace and listened to the +chattering gasoline engine or raced up the stairs to see if the bandbox +was still on the top shelf of her closet. + +At last she couldn't wait another minute. She didn't care what old Peter +Simmons had told Ben. She would go within gunshot of the shop and call +to--she wasn't sure yet whether she would call for Frederick Befort and +beg him to turn over a new leaf and be loyal to the men with whom he was +working, or to Richard and tell him the suspicion which was tormenting +her. She couldn't go to bed until she had told some one. She called +herself names because she hadn't gone to the shop at once. + +Ben had forgotten to turn on the lights and the hall stretched before +her as dark as Egypt. She felt as if she were making her way through a +length of black velvet as she went down the stairs. But as she turned to +run out of the side door, which was the shortest way to the shop, she +saw a thread of light. It came from the right, from the room Major +Martingale used as an office. The door was always kept locked, but now +it was ajar. + +Through the wide crack Rebecca Mary could see a light on the desk beside +which a man was standing as he fumbled among the Major's papers. He was +too tall and not wide enough to be Major Martingale, and even before he +turned so that the light fell on his face Rebecca Mary knew who he was. + +Quickly, without taking even a second to think, Rebecca Mary pulled the +door shut. The key was in the lock, on the outside, and she turned it. +Then she leaned against the door frightened to death and ready to cry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Rebecca Mary had caught a spy! And, oh, how she wished that she hadn't. +When she turned the key she had felt like Joan of Arc but immediately +she became the most arrant little coward that ever was. She leaned +against the door and trembled in every inch. She didn't know what to do +with her spy now that she had caught him. + +Of course, there was but one thing to do. She would have to tell old +Peter Simmons and give him the key. And now that she had Frederick +Befort locked in Major Martingale's office she was sorry. She had liked +Frederick Befort. He was so different from any man she ever had met. He +had seemed romance to her with his title, his centuries-old château, his +rose-embowered country, his stories of boar hunts and kaisers and grand +duchesses, and all sorts of people such as Rebecca Mary had never met on +her way to and from the Lincoln school. + +But Rebecca Mary had learned a lot of the little grand duchy about which +she had known so little, and she knew that while there were many men in +Luxembourg who had hated and feared German power there were others who +would have welcomed it. Frederick Befort had told her that himself, and +she had read it in a book, also. Frederick Befort had been at school in +Germany, he had been born and raised almost in Germany; only the width +of a river had separated him from Germany. How did they really know +whether he actually had come from the Luxembourg side of the River Sure? +But whether he was in sympathy with Germany or not he had stolen the +secret of the great experiment which Germany wanted. That was the one +thing Rebecca Mary was sure of. She had the proof of that. + +And if he was a traitor he should suffer only--only---- There was Joan! +As she remembered Joan, Rebecca Mary wanted to open the door and plead +with Frederick Befort, make him promise to forget all about Germany, to +keep faith with old Peter Simmons. If he would do that, if he could make +Rebecca Mary trust him again she might--she might---- It would be too +horrible for Joan to be labeled the daughter of a spy. + +It was so horrible to Rebecca Mary that her hand was on the key when she +heard a smothered exclamation and a thud as if a movable body had +suddenly come in contact with an immovable body. Rebecca Mary cowered +down beside the door and held her breath until the hall was flooded with +light, and she raised her frightened eyes and saw Richard Cabot staring +at her. + +"What are you doing there?" He could not believe that she was listening. +Rebecca Mary was not the sort of a girl who would listen at keyholes. + +"H-sh!" She waved a frantic beckoning hand to him. She was so glad that +it was Richard who had found her. He was so sensible, so dependable, he +was Waloo's youngest bank vice-president and so was a man whom many +people trusted. She had never appreciated what it meant to be sure she +could trust a man before. A little glow broke through the smothering +blackness which had enshrouded her as she thought of how she could trust +Richard. Rebecca Mary knew that she was quite incapable of handling this +situation, but she knew that Richard could handle it. She could not +imagine a situation which Richard could not handle. So when Richard +asked her with a compelling mixture of curiosity and determination: +"What's in there?" she stammered painfully, but she told him. "A leak!" + +"A leak?" he repeated stupidly for he had not heard the words Major +Martingale and the others were constantly using and which had impressed +themselves upon Rebecca Mary's brain. He stared at the hand which clung +to the door knob. If there was a leak, although Richard did not see how +that could be for there were no pipes in the office to leak, did Rebecca +Mary think she could stop it by clinging to the door? + +Rebecca Mary put out her other hand and clutched his arm. She had to +feel him as well as see him. "I know Major Martingale has been afraid of +a leak," she faltered, "and as I was coming down the stairs I saw that +this door was open. You know it always has been kept locked." She went +on more hurriedly after she had started as if she wished to finish her +story as soon as possible. "And I saw a man at Major Martingale's desk. +I did! It wasn't my imagination. I really saw him and I shut the door +and--and locked it. He hasn't made a sound so he couldn't have heard me. +But--but I'm frightened!" And indeed she looked frightened. + +Richard frowned, but he put his hands over the fingers on his arm. "Did +you see who he was?" he asked quickly in a hushed voice, almost a +whisper. + +She didn't answer. She simply couldn't tell him that she had, that the +man who was rifling Major Martingale's desk was Frederick Befort, Count +Ernach de Befort. Richard pressed her fingers gently. + +"Was it Befort?" he asked in that same quick whisper. + +Rebecca Mary pulled her fingers from him. "How did you know? Oh, I've +told you! I've just the same as told you!" She covered her face with her +hands. + +Richard reached behind her and turned the key in the lock so that the +door could be opened while Rebecca Mary watched him in cold despair. She +couldn't understand why he did that. Surely Richard could be trusted. +After Richard had unlocked the door he put his arm around Rebecca Mary +and drew her out on the terrace. + +"But--but----" objected Rebecca Mary, who couldn't understand why he +wanted to take her away unless he wished to give Frederick Befort an +opportunity to escape. + +"Rebecca Mary," Richard said most irrelevantly as he drew her out with +him, "you are a goose. A dear little goose," he added as if to explain +to Rebecca Mary exactly what kind of a goose she was. + +Rebecca Mary pulled herself away impatiently. Why should Richard waste +time calling her names when there was a spy in Major Martingale's +office? She stammered as she tried to tell him that there were other +things for him to do now than to call her names. With a laugh Richard +tightened the arm which was still around her. + +"I'm going to tell you something," he said, bending his head so that he +could speak directly into her pink ear. "When you locked Befort in the +office you locked up the man who invented the thing we are working on. +Yes, you did!" as Rebecca Mary pushed him away with a funny little +strangled exclamation. "Wait a minute and listen! Yes, I know that we +have all been afraid of a leak, but there hasn't been one. No, there +hasn't! Listen! You know Befort comes from Luxembourg?" Rebecca Mary +nodded a dazed head. She did know that, from the River Sure. "And how +hot he is at the way the Germans have treated his country and his grand +duchess? He was so mad that he couldn't stay neutral. He joined the +French Foreign Legion and fought until he was wounded and discharged. He +had invented this--this"--evidently Richard didn't know what to call the +great experiment when he was talking to Rebecca Mary--"this thing," he +said at last. "He had talked about it to the kaiser before he perfected +it, and the kaiser wanted him to promise to give the thing to Germany. +Joan and her mother had come to this country. The countess was an +American, you know. She died and Befort came over for Joan. He decided +he couldn't find a safer place to work out his idea than the United +States. He came to Waloo and worked alone for months. Then he discovered +that German agents were watching him, and he was afraid they would steal +his plans. He was in the bank one day and talked to me. He never spoke +of Joan so perhaps it isn't strange that I didn't connect your loan +child with him. I arranged for him to meet Mr. Simmons. The thing was +just in his line, and he could give Befort protection. Mr. Simmons found +him a place in his factory and mechanics to help him and got the +government interested for it is a big thing, a mighty big thing. +Everybody came down here to finish up the job where there would be no +chance of German I. W. W. interference. But you see Befort didn't have +to steal the plans. He had them in the brain that invented them." + +"Oh!" Rebecca Mary couldn't say another word to save her life. Her face +crimsoned. She wished the terrace would open and drop her into Pekin or +Shanghai. She didn't care which. How could she have made such a mistake? +"But the ball!" she exclaimed suddenly, and she told Richard about the +glove which Frederick Befort had turned into a ball and which was +stuffed with drawings and notes for something. + +"I've no doubt it was. Befort has a lot of ideas, and if he took any +papers from his pocket they would be sure to be covered with drawings +and figures. As for German words, you know he was practically brought up +in Germany?" + +"Yes," sighed Rebecca Mary. It was all so clear now that Richard had +explained it to her. "No wonder you called me a goose," she said +ruefully. + +"A dear little goose!" When Richard was quoted he wished to be quoted +exactly. His voice was very tender as he corrected Rebecca Mary. + +"A goose," repeated Rebecca Mary somewhat crossly. She was in no mood +for tenderness, she was too ashamed and mortified. She was almost +inclined to blame Richard for the mistake she had made. If he had only +told her something--anything. But if he hadn't come stumbling over the +hall chair she might have accused Frederick Befort to his face. "Oh," +she wailed, "I never want to see Frederick Befort again! What shall I +do? I never want to see him again!" + +"Don't you?" Richard seemed quite pleased to hear that she had seen +enough of the romantic Luxembourg count. He had feared that Rebecca Mary +might wish to see a lot more of him. "Well, you don't have to see him +again," he said quickly. "I'm going to Waloo in the morning, and I'll +take you with me." + +"Will you?" Rebecca Mary couldn't believe there was such a simple +solution to her puzzle. "Can you?" She remembered that one could not go +from Riverside as one pleased. + +"Sure I can." Richard spoke quite confidently. "I'd take you this minute +but you've worn yourself out over this thing and you need sleep." + +"I don't feel that I shall sleep until I am back in Waloo," sighed +Rebecca Mary, and her lip quivered. + +"Yes, you will. You'll be asleep as soon as your head touches the pillow +now that you have nothing to bother over. You meet me at--is six-thirty +too early? I have to go up and back before noon so I must start early." + +He couldn't start too early to suit her. "There's Granny!" Rebecca Mary +had almost forgotten Granny. + +If Richard had thought he was going to take an early morning ride with +no one but Rebecca Mary he hid his disappointment very well when he +learned that they were to have company. + +"Sure, there's Granny. We'll take her with us." + +"And Joan?" doubtfully. Perhaps Richard would think that Joan should be +left with her father. + +But Richard didn't. "Joan, too. Her father will be too busy for the next +twenty-four hours to look after her. He was so excited we had to send +him away to-day." So that was why Frederick Befort had not been at the +shop. "It has been a great day for him and unless I miss my guess there +will be a greater one to-morrow." And so that was why Frederick Befort +had asked her to wish him luck. Rebecca Mary blushed again as Richard +went on. "Six-thirty, you know. And not a word to any one!" And lowering +his voice, he whispered a few directions. He chuckled as if he were +going to enjoy carrying Rebecca Mary away from Riverside. There seemed +to be more in his mind than he was telling Rebecca Mary. + +But Rebecca Mary was not critical nor observing. She was only grateful. + +"I'll never forget your heavenly goodness!" she exclaimed as she turned +to go in and tell Granny that they were to leave Riverside at six-thirty +in the morning, that Granny was to have her wish and reach home before +old Peter Simmons. "I'll remember it to my dying day!" + +"Will you, Rebecca Mary?" Richard seemed quite pleased to hear how long +he was to be remembered, and he caught her hand and pressed it before he +let her go. "Will you?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +If Richard was a tower of strength that night he was a veritable +magician the next morning, for he extracted the two women and a half +from a carefully guarded place as easily as most men would take a friend +out for a walk or to a theater or church. Granny had been delighted to +accept Richard's kind invitation to run away to Waloo. Her faded blue +eyes sparkled when Rebecca Mary gave it to her. + +"Of course, I'll go," she said at once. "It's too great a strain to be +under the same roof with old Peter Simmons. I'm crazy to see him, +Rebecca Mary, but I don't dare. Perhaps if I run away again he'll know +that I don't want to be teased. I simply can't discuss a golden wedding +present now. We've done it too often. But I don't know what I'll do, +Rebecca Mary, if he doesn't remember what we planned. If I weren't so +proud I should tell him that it begins with an H. But I can't even do +that, Rebecca Mary. It's funny I should feel this way after fifty +years, but I do. I can't help it even if I do know how silly it is." + +So in the early morning Granny and Rebecca Mary and a very sleepy Joan +left the house as stealthily as if they had been robbing Riverside and +made their way from one clump of shrubbery to another to the gate. It +thrilled Rebecca Mary, whose teeth fairly chattered. It even thrilled +old Granny a bit, but it only puzzled Joan, who could not understand why +she had been wakened so early nor why she was being taken from Riverside +without saying good-by to her father although Granny told her that they +had left a note for her father and one for old Peter Simmons. How +Rebecca Mary did blush when Count Ernach de Befort was mentioned! + +Before they reached the gate Richard came down the driveway in the car +which had brought Granny and Rebecca Mary and Joan to Riverside. He +stopped to speak to the guard, who was on the other side of the car so +that the three prisoners were able to slip by it and hide themselves in +the bushes which were most conveniently placed just outside the gate. + +"Pooh!" exclaimed Granny as she settled herself in the tonneau with +Joan, "if I had known how easy it would be I shouldn't have stayed +twenty-four hours. Oh, well, I don't know as I care so long as I shall +get home before old Peter Simmons. We have had a rest and a change. I +don't often find fault with an experience after it is over. I did want +to go to Seven Pines before the golden wedding, but perhaps it is just +as well. You haven't anything to complain of, have you, Rebecca Mary? +Riverside was more interesting for you than Seven Pines would have been. +Wasn't it?" + +"Much more interesting!" Rebecca Mary had never seen a foot of Seven +Pines and so should not have been so quick to decide that Riverside was +more interesting. "I'm glad that Major Martingale made prisoners of us." +And then she remembered what had happened the last day she had been a +prisoner, and she flushed and stammered. "At least I was glad." She +looked at Richard to see if he remembered the secret that they shared, +and he nodded and smiled. Rebecca Mary did not like to think of that +last night. It made her hot all over, from the top of her head to her +very heels, to remember what she had done. She hoped that no one but +Richard would ever know. + +"We're going home, we're going home," sang Joan to an air of her own +composition. "I'm the only one who has what we came for," she announced +jubilantly. "I came for my father and I found him right away. But you +haven't your young heart, have you, Granny? And dear Miss Wyman hasn't +found the payment for her insurance, have you, Miss Wyman?" How +disappointed Granny and Rebecca Mary must be! + +"Perhaps I didn't find the real young heart I wanted, Joan, but then I +knew that an old body isn't just the place for a real young heart," +Granny confessed honestly. "But my old heart is a lot younger than it +was. It makes an old heart young in just the right way to match an old +body to be with young people, you know." She gave the prescription +gravely to Joan, and Joan received it as gravely. + +"That makes two of us who have what we came for." Joan was even more +jubilant. "I'm sorry you haven't, Miss Wyman." Miss Wyman couldn't know +how sorry she was. + +But Rebecca Mary didn't want sympathy from any one, and she said so at +once. "Indeed I did make a payment on my memory insurance policy, Joan. +I made a lot of payments. Why, at the rate I've been paying I shan't be +able to collect all the payments on that memory insurance policy, not if +I live to be a hundred!" + +Joan bounced up and down on the seat beside Granny. "Then it's time to +go home," she said with funny solemnity. "When you get what you want it +is always time to go home." + +They stopped at a farmhouse to telephone to Pierson to have breakfast +ready for them, and when they reached the house a most delicious +breakfast was waiting in the dining room. + +"I'm glad you're back, Mrs. Simmons," Pierson said. "Young Mrs. Simmons +and I don't agree about the arrangements for your golden wedding." + +"Don't you, Pierson?" smiled Granny. "I wonder if you and I will agree +about them. If we don't you must remember that the golden wedding is +mine. Gracious, but I am glad to be home again where I can look after +things myself! I declare, Rebecca Mary, I can't think now why we ever +went away. I must have been in a panic." + +"Mr. Simmons came about fifteen minutes after you left, ma'am," +explained Pierson, who stood beside Granny, eager to tell her what had +happened. "He was quite put out, I can tell you, when I told him you had +gone on a motor trip. He wanted to know where----" + +"You couldn't tell him that, could you, Pierson?" Granny seemed quite +pleased to think that Pierson couldn't. "You didn't know where we were. +We haven't been near Seven Pines." + +"No, ma'am, I know. Mrs. Swenson called me up to ask where you were. But +when Mr. Simmons asked me the way he did he got me all flustered and +before I knew it I told him you had gone to the Cabot country place. You +often go there, you know, Mrs. Simmons, so it wasn't strange I told him +you were probably at Riverside." + +Granny put down her knife and fork and stared at her. "You never told +him that, Pierson?" She hid her face in her napkin, and her shoulders +shook. "What did he say? What did Mr. Simmons say, Pierson?" + +"He didn't say anything for a minute, ma'am, and then he laughed in a +funny sort of a way. 'At Riverside?' he said, ma'am. 'Well, I'll be +darned! The devil she is!' That's exactly what he said. But you often go +there as Mr. Simmons knows, and yet he seemed surprised as anything to +hear you might have gone there now. But I had to tell him something, +Mrs. Simmons, when he asked me like he did." + +Granny was laughing so that she almost choked. "Pierson," she said when +she could control her voice, "I shall raise your wages. I never +suspected that you had an imagination. No wonder Mr. Simmons wasn't +surprised to find us at Riverside. I dare say Major Martingale told him, +too, and young Peter, in spite of their promise to me. Dear, dear! Mr. +Simmons always seems to get the best of me." She shook her head +ruefully. "I wonder what he said when he found that we had run away from +Riverside." + +"He probably said 'Well, I'll be darned' again," laughed Richard as he +repeated a phrase which was often on old Peter Simmons' lips when he was +surprised. "You mustn't be too hard on him, Granny. You know this +experiment is frightfully important and--you know him," he finished +rather lamely. + +"I do," nodded Granny. "If I didn't know him I should never have done a +lot of things that I have. You must put off fireworks to make old Peter +Simmons see anything besides his business. If men weren't so queer women +wouldn't have to be so peculiar," she sighed. "You might remind old +Peter Simmons that he was married at noon. It would be just like him to +come in at night," she prophesied gloomily. + +"Mr. Simmons won't be late," Richard promised somewhat rashly. "I'll see +myself that he is here by noon." + +"You always were a good dependable boy. I can trust you. It is a great +thing, Rebecca Mary, to have a man about whom you can trust." There was +something so significant in the way she spoke that Rebecca Mary turned +pink until she matched the sweet peas in the center of the table. + +She looked so pretty in her self-conscious confusion that Richard had to +stop eating omelet and muffins and look at her. + +Granny went to telephone to young Mrs. Simmons about the golden wedding, +and Joan ran after Pierson to tell her all that they had found at +Riverside. Rebecca Mary pushed back her chair and rose, too. She just +couldn't sit there and let Richard stare at her as he was doing. It made +her feel--she could scarcely tell you how it did make her feel when she +remembered the way Richard had comforted her the night before. She could +still feel the pressure of his arm about her when he had told her that +she was a goose. She slipped out on the porch where Richard found her in +the swing beside the rambler rose. + +She looked up with a smile. "It doesn't seem as if it could be true that +we are free again. I think it was wonderful the way you got us out of +Riverside." + +He smiled, too. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked impulsively. + +"I can!" She turned a curious face toward him. "I'm a perfect wonder at +keeping secrets. I love 'em so I just can't give them away. Do tell me +one!" + +"I hate to be told how wonderful I am when I haven't been wonderful at +all," he said honestly. "So I'll confess that Mr. Simmons asked me to +bring you and Granny and Joan home." + +"He did?" Rebecca Mary couldn't believe it. She visualized the caution +with which Granny had slipped from bush to bush, how stealthily she had +crept to the gate. And there had been no need of caution. How old Peter +Simmons could tease Granny now! By running away from his teasing she had +only given him more material with which to tease her. "She'll be +furious," she said, not sure but she was a little furious herself. + +"She must never know." Richard reminded her that what he had given her +was a secret. "Mr. Simmons said if Granny could slip out of Riverside +and get home before he did she would think she was getting the better of +him and be a lot happier." + +"The dear old man," breathed Rebecca Mary, forming a new opinion of old +Peter Simmons instantly. "What next?" + +"And he asked me to bring her to Waloo. That's all, but you see you +can't pin any cross on me. I was just obeying orders. I thought you +would enjoy the joke, but we won't tell Granny. Let her think that she +did get ahead of Mr. Simmons." + +"I should say so. That dear old Peter Simmons to let Granny retreat with +honor! He's not such a bad sort if he does forget his anniversaries and +presents and things. Dear me, how long ago it seems since we ran away +from here! Otillie Swenson must be an old married woman by now." + +"I don't suppose you thought of me once while you were at Riverside," +Richard said jealously. + +"Well," a perverse imp appeared in Rebecca Mary's cheek just above the +corner of her lip, and there was a perverse imp in her voice, also, "I +was rather busy you know. I was the only girl there and four, no, five, +men, for old Major Martingale had to have a word now and then, five men +in the hand didn't leave much time for one in----" + +"The heart," suggested Richard quickly and eagerly, and he dropped into +the swing beside her. "If you tell me you kept me in your heart, +Rebecca Mary, I shan't mind how many men there were in your hand?" + +But Rebecca Mary wouldn't tell him that although the question sent her +into the strangest flutter she had ever been in in her life, and Richard +frowned. He remembered how the men at Riverside had hung about Rebecca +Mary. + +"You girls are all alike," he said bitterly, and he jumped up from the +swing. "I thought that day at the Waloo you would be different----" + +"At the Waloo!" interrupted Rebecca Mary. "I should say I was different +that day! Why, nothing had ever happened to me then; every day was just +like every other day, gray and stupid, but now----" she stopped, +appalled at all that had happened since that day at the Waloo, at the +few gray stupid days there had been and the many many rosy interesting +ones. "Just suppose Cousin Susan had bought kitchen curtains!" she +exclaimed with what Richard considered irritating irrelevance. + +"Never mind about curtains." Richard wasn't interested in anything +connected with the kitchen just then. "They aren't important----" + +"Oh, but they were! Frightfully important. Why, there was a moment when +my whole future was wrapped up in ten yards of cheap swiss?" She looked +almost frightened as she thought of her future in a neat parcel with ten +yards of cheap swiss. "You know I was a very selfish self-centered +disagreeable person,--yes, I was!--before I went to the Waloo with +Cousin Susan that day. But there must have been magic in the tea or--or +in the favors," she laughed tremulously as she remembered the favor she +had received. "I haven't been the same since," she confessed in a way +which told him that she was very glad that she hadn't been the same. + +"If you would only be the same for two minutes in succession," begged +Richard helplessly. He never felt helpless before a man at the bank, no +matter who he was, but he felt absolutely helpless as he stood before +Rebecca Mary and looked into her rosy face. There was so much he wanted +to tell her, and yet he didn't seem able to form an intelligent +sentence. He could only stand there like a silly fool and look at the +rosy face in which two gray eyes sparkled so adorably. His own face +reddened, and his heart seemed to miss a beat. + +"Better change your mind and stay for luncheon, Richard." Granny came +out with a cordial invitation. "My, Rebecca Mary, but it does seem good +to be at home again!" And she said, as she had said so many times in +the past few days; "I don't understand now why I ever ran away. But if +you won't stay, Richard, you must be sure and tell Mr. Simmons that he +should be here by twelve o'clock at the latest. If he isn't here--if he +isn't here----" she stopped aghast at the possibility she had voiced. +"If he isn't here I don't know what I shall do," she finished truthfully +if weakly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Granny had no opportunity to know what would happen if old Peter Simmons +was late for his golden wedding for he came striding in long before the +clock struck twelve on the twenty-second of July. Young Mrs. Simmons +with Mrs. Hiram Bingham and Mrs. Joshua Cabot were assisting the maids +in the pleasant task of arranging the quantities of yellow and white +flowers which came pouring in. + +Rebecca Mary in a pretty pink gingham, lent a hand wherever she could, +but she really wasn't of very much help for her thoughts would stray to +Richard and to Count Ernach de Befort. She couldn't keep them on the +yellow and white flowers, and every time her thoughts strayed the color +in her cheeks grew pinker than the color in her frock. She was, oh, so +ashamed and mortified when she remembered that she had locked Count +Ernach de Befort in Major Martingale's office and she told herself that +she hated Richard Cabot when she remembered that he had found her +clinging to the door. She should have been grateful to Richard, but she +insisted that she wasn't, not a bit. Richard had diagnosed her case as +that of a goose, a dear little goose, but she did not agree with him at +all. She told herself that she had been a fool, a perfectly idiotic +fool. And she told herself, also, that she hoped she would never see +either Richard or Frederick Befort again for she wanted to forget what a +perfectly idiotic fool she had been. She wanted to see young Peter and +Wallie and Ben. The line of her lips softened when she thought of them. +What fun they had had at Riverside! She wondered if they had thought of +her at all or if they had been too busy with the great experiment to +think of any girl. With her thoughts roving from Waloo to Riverside it +was no wonder that Rebecca Mary was not of more assistance and that she +put the white flowers where Judy Bingham had planned to place the yellow +flowers. + +When old Peter Simmons came striding in like a conqueror, Granny was +just coming down the stairs, and she looked more like an old saint in +her white linen house gown than she did like a woman who had ever run +away from her husband's question. + +[Illustration: "HELLO, KITTY!"] + +"Where's Mrs. Simmons? Where's my bride?" demanded old Peter Simmons +almost before he crossed the threshold, and then he saw her on the +stairs. "Hello, Kitty!" He met her at the foot of the stairs with +outstretched hands. "You don't look a day older than you did fifty years +ago. And you don't act half as old. Aren't you ashamed of the way you've +been running about the country?" He gave her a little shake before he +kissed her. + +"You need stronger glasses, Peter, dear, if you think I don't look older +than I did when we were married. Goodness knows I don't feel as old! I +should say I didn't! Then I was eighteen on the outside and felt at +least seventy on the inside, and now I'm sixty-eight on the outside, and +I don't feel more than eighteen on the inside. But I look sixty-eight. +Yes, Peter, I do, and you look seventy-one. Perhaps a person can cheat +old Time on the inside, but he can't do it on the outside. There are +tattle tales here--and here." And her finger touched the wrinkles which +separated old Peter Simmons' two grizzled eyebrows and the lines which +ran from the corners of his nose to the corners of his mouth. "You +didn't have those when you married me, Peter Simmons!" + +Old Peter Simmons laughed as if it were a huge joke to have wrinkles on +his golden wedding day. "I've a lot now that I didn't have when I +married you, old lady. Well, we've had fifty pretty fair years +together, haven't we?" He looked down at her fondly. "Want fifty more?" + +Granny never hesitated the fraction of a second. "Mercy, no!" she +declared quickly. "That would be far too much of a good thing, a regular +gilding of a beautiful lily. Just a few more years, Peter, dear, and +we'll be through. We've earned our rest." + +"Rest!" roared old Peter. "What does a flighty young thing like you want +of a rest? I heard of your scandalous doings, Mrs. Simmons, running off +in the middle of the night, being locked up by the government. I came +very near letting you celebrate your golden wedding by yourself." He +pinched her cheek. "But Dick Cabot told me a man couldn't do that." He +roared again as he remembered the worried face Richard had worn when he +told him that he must, he simply must, be on time for his own golden +wedding; he couldn't leave Granny to go through that alone. "So I came +back." + +"You didn't come empty handed?" demanded Granny quickly. "Don't tell me +you came empty handed, Peter Simmons?" + +"No, I didn't do that. I didn't dare. I was afraid you would run away +again, and I need you in this big old house. The only way to keep some +wives is to give 'em trinkets." He bent to kiss Granny again before he +put his hand in his pocket. "I hadn't any idea what you wanted." His +eyes twinkled. "You wouldn't tell me----" + +Granny watched him eagerly, anxiously. "I did tell you," she +interrupted. "We've talked it over together a hundred times since our +silver wedding. You know we have. You didn't forget, Peter?" Her voice +told him that she could forgive almost anything but his failure to +remember what they had planned first on their silver wedding day. + +"Twenty-five years is a long time for a man to remember a little thing +like a golden wedding present," went on old Peter Simmons in a teasing +voice, and he winked at Rebecca Mary over his wife's head. "I haven't +lost it, have I?" He was feeling in all of his pockets. "I was +sure--Dick saw that I had---- No, here it is!" And from one of the many +pockets he took a long envelop. + +Granny gave a little scream which made the decorators draw closer. They +were all interested in Granny's golden wedding present for Granny had +made the gift seem so important. + +"And here's mine," she said, and she took a long envelop from the pocket +of her skirt. It was tied with yellow ribbon while old Peter Simmons' +long envelop had a practical rubber band around it. Granny fairly +thrust her envelop into her husband's hands and snatched his from him in +a way which was quite inexcusable in any one, in even a bride of fifty +years. "Peter, you never----you did! If this isn't the greatest! You old +darling!" And she laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks. + +Old Peter looked at what was in his envelop, and he laughed, too, until +the tears stood in his eyes. "You didn't trust me, old lady!" He shook +his head at Granny. "You thought I had forgotten!" + +"I did!" Granny frankly admitted her thought. "You just the same as told +me you had forgotten when you kept asking that foolish question--'What +do you want?' I didn't trust you, and I made up my mind that I shouldn't +be disappointed even if I had to carry out alone the plan we made +together so I went down to Judge Graham yesterday and had him fix things +up. I was so afraid that you'd give me a diamond necklace or a string of +pearls." She sighed happily because he hadn't given her either diamonds +or pearls. + +He stopped in the middle of another laugh, and looked at her with a +funny expression as if he wasn't sure, not at all sure. "H-m," was all +he said. + +"H-m," replied Granny. "Why did you pester me so if you remembered?" + +Old Peter finished his interrupted laugh and had another one before he +pulled her gray hair as he undoubtedly had pulled her brown hair in the +days when she was eighteen on the outside and felt seventy on the +inside. "Because I like to tease you, old lady. You go up in the air +quicker than any one I ever knew, and I like to see you rise. It's meat +and drink to me. You always come down gracefully. I must say that for +you," he added admiringly. + +"Not this time," she told him honestly. "I didn't land gracefully this +time, Peter. You got the better of me all around. But whoever would have +imagined that when I ran away from you I should run right into you?" + +"It was Fate," old Peter told her emphatically. "And it means that you +can't get away from me, no matter where you run." + +Granny kissed his brown wrinkled cheek. "Yes," she said soberly. "I +guess that's what it means. And I'm glad of it!" she went on firmly, "I +could go farther and fare worse even if you are the biggest tease on +earth, Peter Simmons!" + +Young Mrs. Simmons and Judy Bingham and Sallie Cabot could bear the +suspense no longer. They had heard so much about the golden wedding +present which Granny wished to receive that they just had to see it. + +"What did father give you, Mother Simmons?" Young Mrs. Simmons was an +impatient spokeswoman. "What did she give you, Father Simmons?" + +"Yes, what did you give her?" Sallie Cabot drew Rebecca Mary into the +ring around Granny and old Peter Simmons. + +Joan did not wait to be drawn, she ran in herself for she, too, was +eager to see what Granny had wanted so much that she had run away from +old Mr. Simmons so that he would be sure to give it to her. It was a +funny way to obtain a present. Joan did not understand the method. +Perhaps she would if she could see the gift. + +Granny was laughing so that she could scarcely tell them what it was. So +was old Peter Simmons. + +"You see, dears," began Granny, breaking a laugh in two and wiping the +tears from her eyes, "we felt older twenty-five years ago than we do +now, didn't we, Peter? And we wanted to do something for the world that +had been so good to us. We had had twenty-five as perfect years as a man +and woman could have together, and we wanted to show that we appreciated +them. Peter thought of a trade school, and I thought of a children's +home because women naturally think of children, you know, and then we +had an inspiration. I don't remember which thought of it first, do you, +Peter?" + +"I expect you did," old Peter suggested handsomely. + +"Well, perhaps I did, but it doesn't matter, for when two people live +together for twenty-five years they grow to think the same things. Yes, +they do, Rebecca Mary, as you'll see some day. I often catch myself +thinking of contracts. But this time we thought of a home for old +couples. We were so sorry for the old couples who couldn't grow older +together that we decided that we'd give them a home when we had been +married fifty years and were an old couple ourselves. A home for +friendless old couples. We shouldn't wait until we were dead and some +one would look after it for us. We'd do it ourselves and get to know +some of the old couples. That was why we bought Seven Pines, wasn't it, +Peter? And that was why I wanted to take you to Seven Pines, Rebecca +Mary. I wanted to go there to stay for a few days before my golden +wedding. We've talked and planned a lot about it, and I was a silly old +fool to let Peter tease me with his question. I should have known you, +Peter, but perhaps it was because it meant so much to me that I was +frightened to death for fear you had forgotten or changed your mind. But +you hadn't for---- See!" She held up the envelop old Peter had given +her, and her face was radiant as she told them what was in it. "Here is +the deed all ready for me to sign for the Katherine Simmons Home for Old +Couples." + +"And here," old Peter Simmons held up the envelop which had been given +to him, "here is the deed for the Peter Simmons Home for Old Couples all +ready for me to sign. We'll have to compromise on the name, Kitty, and +merge it into the Simmons Home." + +"Is that all the present is?" Joan had never been more disappointed in +her life. She could not join in the chorus of admiring approval. But she +could understand why Granny cried. She would want to cry if old Peter +Simmons gave her an old home for old people. There was only one thing +which would make it right to Joan, and she pulled Granny's sleeve. "Will +you give the old couples young hearts, Granny?" she whispered eagerly. + +"We'll try," Granny whispered back. "That's exactly what we are going to +try to do, Joan, to make tired old hearts younger. The world would be so +much happier if there were not so many old hearts in it. You keep yours +young, Joan, as long as you live," she advised quite confidentially. +"Bless my soul!" she exclaimed as she heard a machine puff up the +driveway. "Is that young Peter with our jailor? I've been so taken up +with our golden wedding presents, Peter, dear, that I never asked how +your experiment worked. Was it a success?" + +"It was a big success." Old Peter Simmons looked as if he was more than +satisfied with the way the great experiment had worked. "We've given it +every sort of try out and it can't go wrong. If we hadn't made sure of +that I couldn't have come to your golden wedding, Kitty. I should have +had to send my regrets." He winked at Rebecca Mary and tickled Joan +under her chin. "Some day, Miss Wyman," he told her more soberly, "you +will be proud to remember that you were a prisoner at Riverside when +Befort's big idea was worked out." + +"What will it do?" Joan wanted to know at once. "What can you do with my +father's idea, Mr. Simmons?" + +Mr. Simmons tickled her under her chin again. "That would be telling," +he whispered with a great show of secrecy. "And then you wouldn't be +curious any longer. There is only one way to keep people interested and +that is to keep them guessing," he went on with a twinkle. "If you knew +what to-morrow was going to bring you wouldn't care whether you had a +to-morrow or not. You'd never want to go to bed to-night." + +"I'm not going to bed to-night, anyway not until the old people do. +Granny said I needn't, that I could stay up until the last minute of the +golden wedding!" Joan drew herself up with proud importance. "But I'll +tell my father what you said about the way to keep people interested, +and I'll tell Miss Wyman, too," as if she thought old Peter Simmons +wanted his recipe circulated as rapidly as possible. + +Old Peter Simmons chuckled. "You may tell your father if you want to, +but I rather think that Miss Wyman knows. The knowledge is born in some +girls. That's what makes them such a puzzle to us men. How about it, +Miss Wyman?" he said teasingly to Rebecca Mary. "You don't need to be +told, do you?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Granny's golden wedding celebration was a very informal affair although +many important people came to offer their congratulations and to ask +Granny where on earth she had been and to tell her how much she had been +missed. Although she had been married at noon Granny had chosen to have +her party in the evening, and July the twenty-second offered her a +wonderful evening, cool and pleasant as a July evening can be +occasionally. + +Old Peter Simmons was continually leaving his place beside Granny to +draw Rebecca Mary into a corner and ask her if she thought that Granny +really was satisfied to have a home for old couples for her golden +wedding present or if Rebecca Mary thought Granny would rather have had +something more personal. + +"I always have given her something personal," he explained, "ever since +the Christmas when she gave me a carpet sweeper. For years before that +I'd showered her with rugs and library tables and a brass bed and other +household furniture. She said then she guessed the house was mine as +much as it was hers and it was only fair for me to take my share of the +stuff. And she was right. But that made me suspicious ever after. And +now--of course, she planned this aged home herself, but women do change +and you heard what she said. Do you think she would rather have had a +string of pearls?" Granny had given old Peter Simmons something to think +of when she had said she was so afraid that he was going to give her +pearls or diamonds for a golden wedding present. + +"What is that about pearls?" And there was Granny herself. She had +followed them to ask old Peter Simmons why he couldn't stand beside her +and say thank you when people told him how lucky he had been to have had +her to live with for fifty years instead of rushing off into corners +with Rebecca Mary. "Indeed, I do want that Simmons Home for Old +Couples," she declared when old Peter Simmons had stammered "Why." "I +should have been broken-hearted if you had brought me anything but that +deed. Pearls!" she sniffed scornfully. "What would I do with a string of +pearls? I should only put it away for young Peter's wife." + +"But young Peter hasn't any wife!" objected Joan, who, of course, was at +Rebecca Mary's elbow. + +"He will have some day," laughed young Peter, who had been drawn to the +little group in the corner. "Won't he, Rebecca Mary?" + +Rebecca Mary was furious because she colored when Peter asked her if he +wouldn't have a wife some day, and she was more furious when she +stammered in her answer. Why should she always be so horribly +self-conscious? If she had known how charming she was as she colored and +stammered she wouldn't have been so angry. + +"Most men have," was all she said. + +"Not all men," insisted Joan. "There's my father. He hasn't any wife." + +"He has had one, and one is enough for any man," Peter told her. + +"I don't think it's enough for my father. He always wants two of +everything, roast beef and ice cream and handkerchiefs and pencils +and--and everything," she declared, and Peter pulled her hair and asked +her how she dared to compare a wife to roast beef before he went away to +dance with Doris. + +Rebecca Mary looked across the room at the man who wanted two of +everything. He was standing by the window, and he wore the absent-minded +detached expression which Rebecca Mary and Granny had seen him wear at +Riverside. Only a part of Frederick Befort was at that moment at +Granny's golden wedding party. But as Rebecca Mary looked at him he +raised his head and their eyes met. Rebecca Mary blushed again. Oh, +dear, wouldn't she ever overcome that silly conscious habit? But she +just had to blush as she remembered that she had thought he was a spy. +The absent-minded expression slipped from Frederick Befort's face as all +of him came to the party, and he started toward Rebecca Mary. She turned +away quickly. She couldn't speak to him. She was glad to have Sallie +Cabot stop beside her, although Sallie Cabot's words were far from +quieting. + +"What have you done to my Cousin Richard?" Sallie demanded with a laugh. +"I used to say he was like a piano, grand, upright and square, but +lately he has quite a ukelele look. What have you done to him?" + +Rebecca Mary blushed a third time as she involuntarily looked at Richard +as he stood talking to two most important men. She couldn't detect any +ukelele look, she thought indignantly. He looked as he had always +looked, perfectly splendid, to her. What did Mrs. Cabot mean? But Mrs. +Cabot drifted away, she did not wait to explain, and Rebecca Mary was +left alone with her question. + +She felt rather forlorn and neglected for it was a long time since she +had been left alone. There had been a young man to ask her to do this +and another young man to ask her to do that. But now young Peter was +dancing with Doris and Wallie was talking to Martha Farnsworth and +George was in a corner with Helen Lester. So they had been devoted to +her at Riverside just because she was the only girl there. She had known +that all the time, she told herself, but it did hurt a bit to have it +proved so conclusively. But there was one thing she did have, she +thought stoutly, and that was the memory of the good time she had had at +Riverside. That couldn't be taken from her--ever! And as if the memory +of a good time had soothed the little feeling of neglect which had hurt +her she slipped out of her corner and made herself very pleasant to the +people she found neglected in other corners. Many eyes followed Rebecca +Mary as she moved here and there, for she wore a new crisp organdie +frock with pink ribbons exactly where pink ribbons should be and tiny +blue forget-me-nots tied in with the pink rosebuds. It was a very +charming frock and Rebecca Mary was very charming in it. Young Peter +told her so as soon as his dance with Doris was finished. + +"Rebecca Mary," he said sternly, "I hope you are as good as you are good +looking." + +Rebecca Mary laughed and then she sighed. "I'm not," she said with a +little quiver of her lower lip. "At least, I'm not good, Peter. I'm +envious and jealous and all sorts of horrid things." + +"Glad of it." Peter did not seem at all shocked to hear how horrid she +was behind her good looks. "If you weren't a few of those things you +wouldn't be down here with me. You would be up in the blue sky tuning +your harp. I like a girl, especially a pretty girl, to be human." + +"I guess I'm awfully human." And Rebecca Mary sighed again. + +"Who is calling you names?" And Wallie and George stopped to ask her +what she had meant by running away from Riverside and leaving them +without a girl to play with. They never could tell her how they had +missed her--every hour. + +"Pooh," laughed Rebecca Mary. "You were too busy with your great +experiment to miss me for a minute." + +They pretended to be cut to the quick by her doubt of their veracity, +and Rebecca Mary was once again the center of a merry chattering group. +It was such fun to laugh and joke with them again. She hoped they had +missed her. And then she caught her breath with a frightened little gasp +for Frederick Befort was coming toward her again, and this time he did +not look as if he could be evaded. + +"May I speak to you?" he asked Rebecca Mary with a serious directness +which made Peter and Wallie and George murmur a few words and drift +away, although Rebecca Mary did try to clutch Peter's sleeve. + +Rebecca Mary did not wish to be alone with Frederick Befort for a +minute. She was so afraid that he knew that she had locked him in Major +Martingale's office at Riverside, that she had taken him for a spy. She +had avoided him all day, and she would have avoided him now if it had +been possible. She was very uncomfortable as she went with him to the +porch and dropped down among the pillows of the swinging seat. Her heart +was beating so loud that she was sure he would hear it. + +Frederick Befort stood in front of her and looked down at her. He did +not say a word. Rebecca Mary shivered among the cushions and tried to +say something. + +"It is a lovely golden wedding, isn't it?" she said, and she could have +slapped herself when she heard her voice shake. + +Frederick Befort drew himself up, clicking his heels together in the way +which had roused Rebecca Mary's suspicions, and looked straight into her +eyes. + +"Miss Wyman," he said very formally, "I beg that you will honor me by +becoming my wife?" + +"Wh-a-t?" Rebecca Mary slipped from among the cushions and stood staring +at him with wide-open-startled eyes. She had expected him to berate her +for taking him for a spy and he had asked her to marry him. She had +never been more astonished in her life. She dropped weakly back among +the cushions. + +"You touched my heart at once by your kindness to my little Joan," +Frederick Befort went on swiftly, and his voice was like a caress as he +took her hand and raised it to his lips. "Whenever I think of Mrs. +Muldoon I am in such a rage that it is well that she is not near me. +What would have happened to my little girl if it had not been for your +heavenly sweetness and generosity!" He shivered as he thought of what +might have happened to Joan. + +Rebecca Mary shivered, too. "Oh," she gasped faintly. She couldn't say +another word. She could only stare at him with big unbelieving eyes. + +"And always you were kind to every one," Frederick Befort went on in +that soft low voice which was so like a caress. "Kindness means much to +me now. I have seen so much--unkindness. To-morrow I go to Washington +with Mr. Simmons and Major Martingale to make a report on our work at +Riverside, and then I must go home. I did not think I ever would go +back. I thought I was through with empires and kings. I wanted to live +where a man could be himself and not just one of a pattern. But I have a +duty over there, I must go back. May I come for you first, and will you +go with me and Joan to my poor changed Luxembourg? Will you?" His grave +eyes searched her face. + +Rebecca Mary kept her eyes on the fingers which fumbled so nervously +with an end of pink ribbon. It couldn't be true that this man, who had +once been to her like the prince in the fairy tale, really had asked her +to marry him. She must be dreaming. Countess Ernach de Befort! That +didn't sound a bit like Rebecca Mary Wyman. She couldn't make it sound +like Rebecca Mary Wyman. And then she remembered that he never once had +said a word which is usually mentioned in a proposal of marriage. With a +relief so great that it almost choked her, Rebecca Mary understood that +Frederick Befort had asked her to marry him because she had been, as he +had said, heavenly kind to Joan, and not because he loved her so that +he could not live without her. Rebecca Mary believed firmly that love is +the only reason for marriage. And she did not love Count Ernach de +Befort. There had been a time when he had fascinated her, when she had +dreamed that perhaps he might some day ask her to marry him, but that +time was past, and anyway fascination was not love. She tried to think +how she could tell him that it wasn't without hurting his--his pride, +for she felt that she had done him an almost irreparable injury in +questioning his honor. Oh, she never could be grateful enough to Richard +Cabot if he hadn't told Frederick Befort that she had questioned his +honor. Perhaps it was the thought of Richard which gave her courage to +raise her eyes to the grave face above her. + +"I'm--I'm so sorry," she stammered, and she put her little hand on his +sleeve. "But you don't really want me. It's just for Joan. You don't +care for me and--I don't care for you. You know you don't really care?" + +Frederick Befort drew his heels together again and bowed ceremoniously +over the small white hand he had taken from his sleeve. "I, too, am +sorry," and his voice sounded sorry, so sorry that just for a second +Rebecca Mary thought she might have been mistaken. "But if I cannot +have your love I hope always to have your friendship?" + +"You shall!" she promised quickly, glad that she could give him +something that he wanted. "You shall always have my friendship--you and +Joan." + +He raised her hand to his lips again and went away, taking with him the +only chance Rebecca Mary ever would have to be a countess. + +Richard passed him as he came looking for Rebecca Mary, and he stopped +to regard him with suspicion. "What did he want? Did he ask you to marry +him, Rebecca Mary?" he demanded so anxiously that Rebecca Mary could not +resent the question. + +"He was just telling me how grateful he was for what I did for Joan." +Rebecca Mary quite truthfully translated what Frederick Befort had said +to her, and which she had been clever enough to understand. "I couldn't +marry him," she went on quickly. "We belong to different countries +and--and everything. Once I thought I should like to," she confessed +with an adorable blush. "It would have been so romantic to be a +countess. He has taught me a lot about--about Luxembourg and things, but +he doesn't want me to marry him. He is just grateful for what I did for +Joan, you know." + +[Illustration: "I LOVE YOU, REBECCA MARY"] + +The jealousy died out of Richard's face and in its place was an eager +expectation. "Well, I love you, Rebecca Mary," he said quickly. "I care +for you a lot. Could you--do you care for me?" He took her hands and +lifted her to her feet so that she stood before him. + +And Rebecca Mary confessed that she did, that she cared a lot for him, +she had ever since that day at the bank. + +"You were always so--so good to me," she murmured as if she just had to +have a reason. + +"Good to you!" Richard choked as he took her in his arms and kissed her. +"Good to you, sweetheart! How could a man be anything but good to you? I +want to be good to you all the rest of your life!" + +Through the open window they could hear Granny's voice; evidently she +was giving a toast for she said--"To all those who keep their hearts +young for they shall live forever!" + +"That means me," Joan said shrilly. "For I have a young heart, and I'm +going to keep it young forever." + +"That means us, too," Richard whispered, his lips very close to Rebecca +Mary's pink ear. "Our hearts are young, aren't they?" + +"Yes." Rebecca Mary spoke dreamily, for she felt as if she must be in +a dream world. She couldn't be wide awake and be in Richard's arms. "As +long as we have love in our hearts they can't grow old." + +"I'm going to live forever!" Joan danced out to tell them her news. +"Granny said I should. Are you, dear Miss Wyman? Do you like the golden +wedding? I'm disappointed in it," she confessed loudly. "It's just like +any grown-up party. I don't see exactly why Granny wanted it so much." + +"Oh, don't you, miss?" And there was Granny. "It wasn't like any +grown-up party to me, not a bit! You just have one wedding, Joan, and +then you'll understand why I've wanted fifty. You understand, don't you, +Rebecca Mary?" She put her arm around Rebecca Mary and hugged her after +her keen eyes had searched Rebecca Mary's tell-tale rosy face. + +"But Miss Wyman hasn't had one wedding." Joan didn't see why Rebecca +Mary should understand so much more than she could. + +"No, but Miss Wyman is engaged," Granny told her as if it were a great +secret. + +But every one heard her, and every one was astonished. No one was more +astonished than Rebecca Mary unless perhaps it was Richard. + +"Rebecca Mary engaged!" Young Peter couldn't believe it. "That wasn't +fair, Rebecca Mary, not to tell a fellow." + +"What is she engaged to?" asked Joan jealously, although she didn't +understand what being engaged meant. + +Granny told them that, too, before Rebecca Mary could open her mouth. + +"To a four-leaf clover. Aren't you, Rebecca Mary?" And then she told +them what had happened to Rebecca Mary the afternoon when she went to +the Waloo for tea, that some one had thrust a four-leaf clover into +Rebecca Mary's hand. Consequently by all the laws of romance Rebecca +Mary was engaged to that some one. + +"But who was it?" Joan expressed the curiosity which was on every face. + +"I wish I knew!" Rebecca Mary had quite forgotten the mystery of the +four-leaf clover in the greater mystery of Richard's love. + +"Don't you know?" Richard asked in a queer sort of a voice. Was he +jealous? + +She shook her head. No, she didn't know. She never had known where that +clover leaf had come from but it had brought her luck. Yes, it had! And +she would keep it to her dying day. But she should like to know who had +given it to her. + +Richard laughed. "Granny," he said, "come and confess." + +"Granny!" What had Granny to do with it? A gray-haired old Granny was +not according to the laws of romance. + +Granny realized that, and she made her explanation apologetically as if +she understood that it might not be wholly satisfactory. + +"You were such a dear scowling thunder cloud that afternoon that I was +sorry for you. It seemed such a wicked waste of a perfectly good girl +that I simply had to offer a little first aid. Richard and I talked you +over"---- + +"Richard!" Rebecca Mary remembered very vividly how curiously Richard +had regarded her over his sandwich. + +"And we decided, I did at least, that you needed a little mystery in +your life. You looked as if you had been fed entirely too long on stern +reality. It was easy enough to diagnose your case, but we didn't know +how to get the prescription to you until we were all jammed together at +the door. I had the clover leaves in my corsage bouquet, old Peter +Simmons had sent them to me, and I made Richard push one into your hand. +He didn't want to do it. He said it was silly and impertinent." Oh, the +scorn in Granny's soft voice. "But I have a very persuasive way with me +at times," she added as Rebecca Mary stared at her, her mouth and eyes +all wide open. "I told him if he didn't do it I should, and I'd tell you +that he did it." + +Rebecca Mary swung around to look at Richard. "Then you--you----" but +words failed her. It was so altogether as she wanted it to be. + +"Yes, I did," admitted Richard with some shame, for there are those who +might think it unseemly for a bank vice-president to slip four-leaf +clovers into the hands of strange scowling girls. "Granny has, as she +said, a very persuasive way with her. I never before did such a thing," +he explained unnecessarily. "And I shouldn't have done it then if I +hadn't been so sure that she would make her threat good." His voice +sounded as if even yet he could not understand how he had let Granny +coerce him. "I'll never do it again," he promised with a rare twinkle in +his eyes. "But I did do it that afternoon. Are you sorry?" + +Rebecca Mary looked from him to Granny and then back at him again. But +before she could find breath with which to tell him that she was +anything but sorry Granny said slowly, as if she were still visualizing +the Waloo tea room: + +"You were with such a dear looking woman that afternoon." + +"Yes," dimpled Rebecca Mary, all flushed and sparkling at the +astonishing news she had heard. "My insurance agent. She was trying to +persuade me to take out a policy," she giggled. + +"And did you?" Joan always wanted to know whether one did or didn't. + +"Did I!" Rebecca Mary drew a deep breath as she thought of the policy +she had taken out and the long record of payments she had made on it. "I +should say I did!" + +"That's all very interesting," Richard broke in after she had told them +a little more about her memory insurance and they had laughed and +trooped away again, "but it interrupted a question that I wish to ask +you. What I want to know is, are you going to marry me?" He put the +question in his best vice-presidential manner, although there was a +twinkle in the far corner of his eyes. + +Rebecca Mary laughed and twinkled, too. The old negative phrase never +came near her lips. Her cheeks were as pink as pink and her eyes were +like stars as Richard's arm slipped around her shoulders and drew her +closer. + +"Will you marry me, sweetheart?" he asked her again, very gently this +time, not a bit like a bank vice-president. + +Rebecca Mary caught her breath. She put up her hand and clutched the +edge of his coat with trembling fingers as if to keep him near her until +she could answer him. Her eyes crinkled and the corners of her mouth +tilted up. My! but she was glad that Cousin Susan had told her what she +should say. + +"Y-yes," she stuttered, half laughing, half crying. "Y-yes, thank you!" + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Rebecca's Promise, by Frances R. Sterrett + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40024 *** |