Sisters

by Grace May North

  CHAPTER XXV. A JOLLY PLAN

  Harold's little gray "bug," as he sometimes called the car which heboasted was the speediest of its kind, made the long upgrade in high, andthat, being a feat it had not accomplished on its last ascent, sogratified the youthful owner that he swung into the seminary grounds witha flourish. Upon seeing his sister sitting moodily in the summer-housewith a novel, unread, on her knee, he ran in that direction, waving hiscap gleefully.

  "Hello, there, Sis!" he called. "Get on your bonnet and come for a ride.The bug is outdoing itself today."

  The girl, whose eyes were suspiciously red, turned toward him coldly."Harold, how many times have I asked you not to call me Sis. It savors ofkitchen mechanics, and, what is more, I do not wear a bonnet. Finally, Imost certainly do not wish to ride in that racer of yours."

  The boy dropped down on the bench on the opposite side of thesummer-house and gave a long whistle which equally aggravated hiscompanion. Then, stretching out to be comfortable, he thrust his handsdeep into his pockets, as he inquired: "Well, then, Sister Gwynette, willyou enlighten me as to why your marblesque brow is darkly clouded?"

  The girl's frown deepened and she turned away from him petulantly. "Youknow just as well as I do that you care nothing whatever about mytroubles," she flung at him. "You wouldn't be here now if Mother hadn'tsent you, and I'm sure I can't see why she did. She cares no more for methan you do, or she would not force me to stay in this prison until theclose of the term just for appearance sake. I'm not taking the finaltests, so why should I pretend that I am?"

  The boy drew himself upright and, leaning on the rustic table which wasbetween them, he said, trying not to let his indignation sound in hisvoice: "Gwynette, do you know that our mother is very, very ill? She isagain in bed and I could only be with her for a few moments."

  Harold paused, hoping that his announcement would cause his listener someevident concern, but there was no change in her expression, and so morecoldly he continued:

  "Mother said nothing whatever about her reason for asking you to remainhere until the term is over, but it is my private opinion that when shedid send for you, some sort of a scene was stirred up which made Mother'sfever worse. The nurse probably thought best for Mums to be undisturbedas long as possible." Suddenly the lad sprang up, rounded the table andsat on the side toward which his petulant sister was facing. Impulsivelyhe took her hand as he asked, not unkindly, "Gwyn, don't you care at allwhether our mother lives or dies?"

  There was a sudden, startled expression in the girl's tear-filled eyes,but, as the lad knew, the tears were there merely because of self-pity.

  "Dies?" she repeated rather blankly. No one whom she had ever known haddied, and she had seemed to think that those near her were immune. "Is MaMere going to die?"

  The boy followed up what he believed to be an advantage by saying gently,"We would be all alone in the world, Gwyn, if our mother left us, and,oh, it would be so lonely."

  Suddenly and most unexpectedly the girl put her arms on the table and,burying her head upon them, she sobbed bitterly. Harold was moved tounusual tenderness. He put his arm lovingly about his sister as hehastened to say, reassuringly, "Miss Dane, the nurse, told me thismorning that Mother's one chance of recovery lay in not being excited inany way. Her fever must be kept down. We'll help, won't we, Gwyn?"

  The girl sat up and wiped her eyes with her dainty handkerchief.

  "I suppose so," she said dully. The boy, watching her, could not tellwhat emotion had caused the outburst of grief. He decided not to followit up, but to permit whatever seeds had been sown to sprout as theywould.

  Springing up, he exclaimed: "Snapping turtles! I forgot something Ibrought for you. It's in the car." He ran back, found the box of choicecandies, returned and presented them. Gwyn was still gazing absentlyahead of her. "Thanks," she said, but without evidence of pleasure.

  The boy stood in the vine-hung doorway gazing down at her. "Gwyn," hesaid, "if you want to come home, I'll be over after you tomorrow. Justsay the word."

  "I prefer to wait until my mother sends for me," was the cold answer. Thelad went away, fearing that he had accomplished little.

  It was five-thirty when the "bug" again turned into the long lane thatled to the farmhouse near Rocky Point.

  "Here comes Harold," Jenny turned from the window to inform the otheroccupants of the kitchen. Grandma Sue was opening the oven to test hercorn bread. Lenora was again in the comfortable armchair near the stove.For the past hour she had been asleep in the hammock out in the sun, andshe felt stronger and really hungry. Charles, having been told that therewas nothing that he could do to help, sat on the bench answering thequestions his sister now and then asked.

  Grandpa Si had not yet returned from a neighbor's where he had gone tohelp repair fences.

  Jenny, dressed in her white Swiss with the pink dots, had a pinkbutterfly bow in her hair. Her cheeks were flushed and her liquid browneyes glowing. She was wonderfully happy. Her dear friend Lenora was toremain with her another two weeks. She was convinced that this was thesole reason for her joy. It did not remotely enter her thought thatperhaps the return of Harold might be adding to her happiness.

  Charles, hearing the siren call, leaped to the porch and the boys againshook hands like old friends who had not met in many a day.

  Harold was plainly elated. He detained Charles on the porch long enoughto tell his plan.

  "I've been over to see Mother since I left and she is quite willing thatI open up the little cabin on the cliff that used to belong to my Dadwhen he was young. It's been closed since he died and I didn't know howMother would feel about having it occupied. But when she heard about you,she said she was glad indeed that I was to have a companion, as she knewthe big house would seem lonely while she is ill, so we'll move rightover there after supper."

  "That's great!" the Dakota boy was equally pleased. "Honest, I'll confessit now; I did dread going to that barren Commercial Hotel, and I couldn'tafford to spend more than ten minutes at The Palms, not if I had to payfor the privilege."

  "Come on, let's tell our good news." Harold led the way into the kitchenwhere his jubilant enthusiasm was met with a like response. Lenoraclapped her hands. "Oh, won't you two boys have the nicest time! Tell usabout that cabin. How did your father happen to build it?"

  "I don't believe I ever really knew. Gwyn and I were such little thingswhen he died." Turning to the older woman, who had dropped on the benchto rest, he asked, "Grandma Sue, you, of course, know all that happened.You were living near here, weren't you, when my father was a boy?"

  "Indeed I was. My folks had the overseein' of a lemon grove up Live OakCanyon way. First off I did fine sewin' for your Grandma Jones. That'show I come to know your family so well. But she didn't live long arter Iwent there, and your grandpa was so broke up, he went to pieces sort of,right arter the funeral an' pined away, slow like, for two years about.Your pa, Harry, was the only child, and he give up his lawin' in the bigcity and come home to stay and be company for his pa. I never saw twofolks set a greater store by each other, but the old man (your grandpawasn't really old, but grievin' aged him), even his boy seemed likecouldn't cheer him up, he missed his good woman so. 'Twant long afore hefollowed her into the great beyond. That other Harold, your pa, was onlytwenty-two or thereabouts and he was all broke up. He didn't seem to wantto go back to the lawin' and it was too lonesome for him to stay in thebig house, so he sent the help all away, giving 'em each a present ofthree months' pay. That is, he sent 'em all but Sing Long. Sing was ayoung Chinaman then, and he wanted to stay with your pa. That's when hehad the cabin on the cliff built. He was allays readin', your pa was, sohe filled one big room with books and with Sing Long to cook for him andtake care of him, there he stayed until he was twenty-five. Then he went'round the world and came back with a wife."

  Grandpa Si's entrance interrupted the story. The old man was surprised tofind company in the kitchen. "Wall, wall,
I swan to glory!" He took offhis straw hat and rubbed his forehead with his big red bandannahandkerchief. "If 'tisn't my helper come so soon. Harry-lad, it's goodfor sore eyes to see you lookin' so young, like there wa'n't no sechthing ahead as old age."

  Harold shook hands heartily as he exclaimed with his usual enthusiasm:"Old age! Indeed, sir, I don't believe in it. All I have to do is to lookat you and Grandma Sue to know that it doesn't exist." Then turningtoward the young visitor, he continued: "Silas Warner, may I make youacquainted with Charles Gale?" The weather-bronzed face wrinkled intoeven a wider smile as the old man held a hand toward the young stranger.

  "Wall, now, you're a size bigger'n our little Lenora here, ain't you?Tut, tut. We've allays boasted about how big we can grow things down herein Californy, but I reckon Dakota's got us plumb beat. Harry, you'll haveto eat a lot to catch up with your friend."

  That youth laughingly replied that he was afraid that eating a lot wouldmake him grow round instead of high. The old man good naturedlycommented, "Wall, Harry-lad, you ain't so much behind or below whichever'tis, not more'n half a head, an' you may make that up. Though 'tain'tshort you be now."

  Then he began to sniff, beaming at his spouse, whose cheeks, from theheat of baking, were as ruddy as winter apples. "Ma," he said, wagginghis head from side to side and smacking his lips in anticipation, "thatthere smell oozin' out of the oven sort of hits the empty spot. Creamgravy on that thick yellar cornmeal bread! Wall, boys, if there's richfolks with finer feed 'n that I dunno what 'tis."

  He was washing at the sink pump as he talked.

  "Neither do I," Harold agreed as he sprang to help Jenny place the chairsaround the table. Their eyes met and Harold found himself rememberingthat this lovely girl was own sister to his adopted sister. What relationthen was he to Jenny? But before this problem could be solved, GrandmaSue was placing the two plates of cornbread on the table and Jenny hadskipped to the stove to pour the steaming gravy into its pitcher-likebowl.

  Charles led Lenora to her place, although she protested that she reallycould walk alone. Harold leaped to the head to draw Grandma Sue's chairout, and then Jenny's, while Charles did the same for his sister. Thenthe merry meal began. Grandpa Si told all that had happened during theday to Susan, as was his custom. Never an evening meal was begun withoutthat query, "Wall, Si, what happened today. Anythin' newsy?"

  It didn't matter how unimportant the event, if it interested the old manenough to tell it, he was sure of an interested listener. Indeed, two,for Jenny having been brought up to this evening program, was as eager asher grandmother to hear the chronicalings of the day, which seldom heldan event that a city dweller would consider worth the recounting.

  "Wall, I dunno as there's much, 'cept Pete says the lemon crop over onthat ranch whar you lived when you was a gal, Ma, is outdoin' itself thisyear. Tryin' to break its own record, Pete takes it. He's workin' overthar mornin's and loafin' arternoons, lest be he can pick up odd jobslike fence-mendin'." Then, when the generous slices of corn bread hadbeen served and were covered with the delicious cream gravy, there wasnot one among them who did not do justice to it and consider it a raretreat. After the first edge of hunger was appeased, the old man askedwhat kind of a year ranchers were having in Dakota. This answered, hesmiled toward the frail girl. "Lenora," he said, "yo' ain't plannin' topull out 'f here soon, air yo'? It'll be powerful lonely for Jenny-gal,her havin' sort of got used to havin' a sister." Then, turning to thesmiling Charles, the old man said facetiously: "Ma an' me sort o' wishyou an' your Pa didn't want Lenora. We'd like to keep her steady.Wouldn't we, Ma?" The old woman nodded, "I reckon we would, but there'sothers have the first right an' we'll be thankful for two weeks more."

  Directly after supper Harold said to his hostess: "Please forgive us ifwe eat and run. I want to move into the cabin before dark." Then, to theold man: "I'll be ready to start work early in the morning."