CHAPTER II
The Ogre
It proved that Miss Upton's new acquaintance had an appointment later ata hotel near by, so thither they repaired when the ice-cream wasfinished.
"Now tell me all about it," said Miss Mehitable encouragingly, when theyhad found the vacant corner of a reception-room and sat down side byside.
"I feel like holding on to you and not letting you go," said the girl,looking about apprehensively.
"Are you afraid of the folks you're goin' to meet here? Is it anotherjob you're lookin' for? I can tell you right now," added Miss Mehitablefirmly, "that I'm goin' to stay and see what they look like if I loseevery train out to Keefe."
"You are so good," said the girl wistfully. "Are you always so kind tostrangers?"
"When they're a hundred times too pretty and as young as you are I am,"returned Miss Upton promptly; "but this is my first experience. Whatsort of position are you tryin' for now?"
"I don't know what to call it," replied Geraldine, with anotherapprehensive look toward the door. "General utility, I hope." She lookedback at her companion. "When my father died, it left me alone in theworld; for my stepmother is the sort that lives in the fairy tales; notthe loving kind who are in real life. I know a girl who has the deareststepmother. I was fourteen years old when my father married again. Mymother had been dead for three years. I was an only child and had alwayslived at home, but my stepmother didn't want me. She persuaded my fatherto send me away to school. I think Daddy never had any happiness afterhe married her. He had always been very extravagant and easy-going.While my precious mother lived she helped him and guided him, andalthough I was only a little girl I always believed he married againbecause he was greatly embarrassed for money. This woman appeared tohave plenty and she was so in love with him! If you had seen _him_, Ithink you would have said he was a hundred times too handsome. Well,from what I could see at vacation time she was never sufficiently inlove with him to let him have her money; and I am sure the last years ofhis life were wretched and full of hard places because of his financialill-success. Poor father." The girl's voice failed and she waited,looking down at the gloved hands in her lap. "I had been at home fromschool only a few months when he died," she went on. "My stepmotherendured me and that was all. She is a quite young woman, very fond ofgayety, and she made me feel that I was very much in her way no matterhow hard I tried to keep out of it."
"I'll bet you were," put in Miss Upton _sotto voce_.
"As soon as my dear father was gone she threw off all disguise to herimpatience. She put on very becoming mourning and said she wanted totravel. She said my father had left nothing, but that I was young andcould easily get a position. She broke up the home, found a cheap roomfor me to lodge, gave me a little money and went away." AgainGeraldine's voice broke and she stopped.
"You poor child," said Miss Upton; "to try as you have and find all yourefforts failures!"
"My stepmother has some relatives who live on a farm," went on the girl."Before my father died we three had one talk which it always sickens meto remember. My stepmother was saying that it was high time I went outinto the world and did something for my own support. My father perhapsknew that he was very ill; but we did not. His death came suddenly. Thatday while my stepmother talked he walked the floor casting troubledlooks at me and I knew she was hurting him. 'Everybody should be whereshe can be of some use,' said my stepmother. 'I think the Carder farmwould be a fine place for Geraldine, and after all Rufus Carder has donefor you I should think you'd be glad to send her out there.'
"I shall never forget the light that came into Daddy's eyes as hestopped and turned on her. 'What Rufus Carder has done for me is whatthe icy sidewalk does for the man who trips,' he answered. My stepmothershrugged her shoulders. 'That was your own weakness, then,' she said. 'Ithink a more appropriate simile for Rufus would be the bridge thatcarried you over!' Her voice was so cold and contemptuous! Daddy came tome and there was despair in his face. He put his hand on my shoulderwhile she went on talking: 'Many times since the day that Rufus sawGeraldine in the park,' she said, 'he has told me they would be glad tohave her come out to the farm and live with them. I think you ought tosend her. She isn't needed here and they really do need somebody.' Thedesperate look in my father's face wrung my heart. He did not look at mystepmother nor answer her; but just gazed into my eyes and said over andover softly, 'Forgive me, Gerrie. Forgive me.' I took his hands in mineand told him I had nothing to forgive." The young girl choked.
When she could go on she spoke again: "A couple of days after that hedied. My stepmother was angry because he left no life insurance, and shetalked to me again about going to work, and again brought up the subjectof the Carder farm. She tried to flatter me by talking of her cousin'sadmiration of me the day he saw me in the park. I told her I could notbear to go to people who had not been kind to my father, and she repliedthat what Daddy had said that day must have been caused by his illness,for Rufus Carder had befriended him times without number."
The girl lifted her appealing eyes to Miss Upton's face as shecontinued: "Of course I knew that my dear father had been weak and Icouldn't contradict her; so after trying and failing, trying and failingmany times, as I've told you, I came to feel that the farm might be theright place for me after all. Work is the only thing I'm not afraid ofnow. It must be a forlorn place if they need help and can't get it. Ithink they said he and his mother live alone, but I shan't care howforlorn it is if only Mrs. Carder is like--like--you, for instance!" Thegirl laid her hand impulsively on her companion's knee.
At that moment a man appeared in the wide doorway to the reception-roomand looked about uncertainly. Instantly Miss Upton recognized the long,weather-beaten face, the straggling hair, the half-open mouth, and therevealing collar of her restaurant rival.
She gave her companion a mirthful nudge.
"He's right on my trail, you see," she whispered. "Adam's apple andall."
Geraldine glanced up and the stranger's roving gaze fell straight uponhers. He came toward her.
"Miss Melody?" he said in a rasping voice.
She rose as if impelled by some inner spring, her light disdainswallowed in dread.
"This is Mr. Carder, then," she returned.
"You've guessed right the very first time," responded the man with anair of relief. "I recognize you now, but you look some different fromthe only other time I ever saw you."
"This is Miss Upton, Mr. Carder, a lady who has befriended me verykindly while I have been waiting for you."
"Yes, and who prevented me from havin' lunch with you," responded thestranger, eying Miss Upton jocosely; but as if he could not spare timefrom the near survey of Geraldine his eyes again swept over her hair andcrimsoning cheeks. "I thought I felt some strong drawin' toward thatparticular table," he added. "Well, we'll make up for it in the futureyou can bet. That your bag here? We'd better be runnin' along. Time,tide, and business don't wait for any man. Good-bye, Miss Upton, I'llforgive you for takin' my place, considerin' you've been good to thislittle girl."
Miss Mehitable's face was as solemn as lies in the power of round facesto be. At close quarters one observed a cast in Mr. Carder's right eye.She disapproved his assured proprietary air and she disapproved him themore that she could see repulsion in the young girl's suddenly palecountenance. She had time for only one strong pressure of a little handbefore Geraldine was whisked away and she was left standing therestunned by the suddenness of it all.
"I never asked where it was!" she ejaculated suddenly. "I've lost thechild!" People began to look at her and she continued mentally: "Thecritter looked as if he wanted to eat her up, the poor little lamb.Unless the mother's something different from the son she'll be driven todesperation. No knowin' what she'll do." Miss Upton clasped her plumphands together in great trouble of spirit. "I believe I said Keefemore'n once. Perhaps she'll have sense enough to write to me. Why didn'tI just tell that old rawbones that her plans was changed and she wasgoin' with me. Oh, I am a f
ool! I don't know what I'd have done withher; but some way would have opened. Let's see. Where am I!" Miss Uptondelved distractedly into the large bag that hung on her arm. "Where's mylist? Am I through or not?" She seemed to herself to have lived longsince her wearied entrance into that restaurant.
In her uneventful life this brief experience took deep hold on herimagination. As she rode out to Keefe on the train that afternoon sheconstructed the scenes of the story in her mind.
The weak, handsome, despairing father begging his child's forgiveness.The dismantling of the home. The placing of Geraldine in a cheap lodgingwhile her father's widow shed all responsibility of her and set forth innew raiment for green fields and pastures new.
The shabby and carelessly put on suit in which Geraldine had appearedthis morning told a tale. The girl had said she despised her looks. Herappearance had borne out the declaration. The lovely hair had beenbrushed tightly back; the old hat would have been unbecoming if itcould: all seemed to testify that if the girl could have had her way notan element of attractiveness would have been observable in her. MissUpton waxed indignant as she went on to picture the probable sceneswhich had frightened and disgusted the child into such an abnormal frameof mind. The memory of Rufus Carder's gaze, as his oblique eye hadfeasted upon his guest, brought the blood to Miss Mehitable's face.
"I'll find out where she is if I have to employ a detective," shethought, setting her lips. "Now there's no use in bein' a fool," shemuttered after a little more apprehensive thought. "I shall get daffy ifI go on thinkin' about it. I'll do my accounts and see if I can take mymind off it."
* * * * *
Meanwhile Geraldine with her escort was also on a moving train. Acreeping train it seemed to her. Rufus Carder was trying to make himselfagreeable. She strove with herself to give him credit for that. She hadnot lived to be a nineteen-year-old school girl without meetingattractive young men. Her stepmother had always kept her in thebackground at times when it was impossible to eliminate her altogether,quite, as Geraldine had said, like the stepmother of a fairy tale; butthere had been holidays with school friends and an occasional admirer;although these cases had been rare because Geraldine, always kept onshort allowance as to money and clothes, avoided as much as possiblesocial affairs outside the school.
She tried now to find amusement instead of mental paralysis in theproximity of her present escort, contrasting him with some men she hadknown; but recent bitter experiences made his probably well-intentionedfamiliarities sorely trying. There was a lump in his cheek. Geraldinehoped it arose from an afflicted tooth, but she strongly suspectedtobacco. Oh, if he would but sit a little farther away from her!
"So you've renounced the city, the world, the flesh, and the devil,"said Rufus when the conductor had left them, and he settled down in anattitude that brought his shoulder in contact with Geraldine's.
She drew closer to the window and kept her eyes ahead. "He is as old asFather," she thought. "He means to be kind."
"There is not much chance for those at school," she replied. "School isabout all I know."
"Well, you don't need to know anything else," returned Rufusprotectingly. "I'll bet Juliet kept you out of sight." He laughed, andhis companion turning saw that he had been bereft of a front tooth.
"I didn't see very much of my stepmother," she answered in the samestiff manner.
"I'll bet you didn't," declared Rufus, "not when she saw you first."Again he laughed, convinced that his companion must enjoy theimplication.
"I mean that I have been away from home at school for several years,"said the girl coldly.
"Oh, I know where you have been, and why, and when, and just how long,and all about it." The tone of this was quiet, but there was somethingdisquieting to Geraldine in his manner. "Perhaps you didn't know," headded after a pause filled by the crescendos and diminuendos of thespeeding train, "that your father and I were pretty thick." At this thegirl's head turned and her eyes raised to his questioningly. "Yes," headded, receiving the look, appreciative of the curves of the long lashesand lovely lips, "I don't believe anybody knew Dick Melody better than Idid."
"Do you mean," asked the girl, "that you were fond of my father?"
Charming as her self-forgetful, earnest look was, her companion seemedunable to sustain it. He gave a short laugh and turned his head away.
"My wife attended to that part of it," he replied.
A flash of relief passed over Geraldine's face. "Your wife," sherepeated. "I--I hadn't heard--I didn't know--I thought the Mrs. Carderthey mentioned was your mother."
"She is. My wife died nearly a year ago, but she had the nerve to thinkyour father was handsomer than me." The speaker looked back at hiscompanion with a cheerful grin. "She said Dick Melody'd ought to be setup on a pedestal somewheres to be admired. I don't know as bein'good-lookin' gets a man anywhere. What good did those eyes ever do him!"
Geraldine sank closer to her window. The despair in those eyes, as herfather begged for her forgiveness, rose before her. Never had she feltso utterly alone; so utterly friendless.
"Yes, I say leave the looks to the womenfolks," pursued Rufus Carder,feasting his gaze on the girl's profile. "When Juliet set out to getDick, I warned her, but it wasn't any use. She had to have him, and sheknew pretty well how to look out for herself. I guess she never lostanything by the deal."
"Would you mind not talking about them?" said Geraldine stiffly.
"Please yourself and you'll please me as to what we talk about,"returned Rufus cheerfully. "Shouldn't wonder if you were pretty sore atJuliet. Look out for number one was her motto all right." A glance atthe shrinking girl showed the host that her eyes were closed. "Tired,ain't you?" he added.
"Dead tired," she answered. And as she continued to keep her eyes closedhe contented himself by watching the lashes resting on her pale cheeks.
"Ketch a little nap if you can, that's right," he said. She keptsilence.
She did not know how long the blessed relief from his voice had lastedwhen he announced their arrival.
"Be it ever so humble," he remarked, "There's no place like home."
To have him get out of the seat and leave her free of the touch of hisgarments was a blessing, and she rose to follow mechanically. Theeternal hope that dies so hard in the human breast was suggesting thathis mother might be not impossible; and at any rate a farm was wide. Shewould never be imprisoned in a car seat with him again.
"There now, my lady," he said triumphantly when they were on theplatform. "I suppose you thought you were comin' to Rubeville. Thatdon't look so hay-seedy? Eh?"
He pointed to a dusty automobile whose driver, a boy of eighteen ortwenty, with a torn hat, eyed her with dull curiosity.
"I suppose you expected a one-hoss shay. No, indeedy. You've come to allthe comforts of home, little girl." His airy geniality of tone changed."What you starin' at, you coot? Come along here, Pete."
The boy moved the car toward the spot where they waited with their bags.
Rufus put these in at the front and himself entered the tonneau with hisguest. His conversation as they sped along the country road consistedmainly of pointing out to her the cottages or fields owned by himself.The information fell on deaf ears. The roughness of her host's tone tothe boy added one more item against him and lessened her hope that thewoman responsible for his existence could be a better specimen.
"I'm free," thought Geraldine over and over. "I don't need to stayhere." Of course the proprietary implication in every word the man saidarose simply from the conceit of a boor. She would be patient andself-controlled. It might be possible still that she should find this ahaven where she could live her own life in her leisure hours, few thoughthey might be.
It was with a weary curiosity that she viewed the weather-beaten housetoward which they finally advanced. In front of it stood an elm-treewhose lower branches swept the roof of the porch.
"That's got to come down, that tree," said Rufus meditatively.
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sp; His companion turned on him. "You would cut down that splendid tree?"
He regarded her suddenly vital expression admiringly.
"Why not, little one?" he asked. "It's makin' the house damp andinjurin' property. Property, you understand. Property. If I'd indulgedin sentiment do you s'pose I'd be owner of all the land I've beenshowin' you?" He smiled, the semi-toothless smile, and met her horrifiedupturned eyes with an affectionate gaze. "However, what you say goes,little girl. You look as if you were goin' to recite--'Woodman, sparethat tree.' Consider the tree spared for the present."
The automobile drew up at the house and in high good-humor the masterjumped out and removed Geraldine's bag to the steps of the narrowpiazza. A woman's face could be seen appearing and disappearing at thewindow, and Pete, the driver, looked with furtive curiosity at the guestas she stepped to the porch without touching the host's outstretchedhand.
Rufus threw open the door. "Where are you, Ma?" he shouted, and a thin,wrinkled old woman came into the corridor nervously wiping her hands onher apron.
Geraldine looked at her eagerly.
"Well, you have to take us as you find us, little girl," remarked Rufus,scowling at his parent. "Ma hasn't even taken off her apron to welcomeyou."
At this Mrs. Carder fumbled at her apron strings, but Geraldine advancedto her and put out her hand.
"I like aprons," she said; and the old woman took the hand for a loose,brief shake.
"I'm very glad to see you, Miss Melody," she said timidly. "I'm glad ithas been a pretty day."
"Show her her room, Ma, and then perhaps she'd like some tea. Cityfolks, you know, must have their tea."
Geraldine followed her hostess with alacrity as she went up the narrowstairway; glad there was an upstairs; and a room of her own, and a womanto speak to.
She was ushered into a barely furnished chamber; a bowl and pitcher onthe small wash-stand seemed to indicate that modern improvements had notpenetrated to the Carder farm.
"I s'pose you'll find country livin' a great change for you," said Mrs.Carder, pulling up the window shade. Geraldine wondered how in thisbeautiful state could have been found such a treeless tract of land. Sheremembered the threatened fate of the elm. Perhaps there had been otherdestruction. "My son never seemed to take any interest in puttin' inwater here."
The girl met the wrinkled face. The apprehension in the old eyes underCarder's scowl had given place to curiosity.
"I have come to help you," said Geraldine, "I must get used to fewerconveniences."
"It's nice of you to say that," said the old woman, "Rufus don't wantyou to work much, though."
"But of course I shall," returned the girl quickly. "I'm much betterable to work than you are."
"Oh, I've got a wet sink this year," said Mrs. Carder. "I told Rufus Ijust had to have it. I was gettin' too old to haul water."
"I should think so!" exclaimed Geraldine indignantly. "Mr. Carder iswell off. He shouldn't allow you to work any more the rest of yourlife."
Mrs. Carder smiled and shook her head, revealing her own need ofdentistry. "I'm stronger than I look. I s'pose if I was taken out ofharness I might be like one o' these horses that drops down when theshafts don't hold him up any longer."
Geraldine regarded her compassionately. "I've heard--my stepmother toldme it was very hard for you to get help out here. I suppose it is lonelyfor maids."
The old woman regarded her strangely, and her withered lips compressed.
"I don't mind loneliness," went on Geraldine eagerly. She had thrown herhat on the bed and the gold of her hair shone in the mean little room."I love to be alone. I long to be."
"That ain't natural," observed Mrs. Carder, regarding her earnest,self-forgetful loveliness. "Rufus told me you was a beauty," she went onreflectively. "Your father was the handsomest man I ever saw."
"You knew him, then," said Geraldine eagerly.
"He was out here a number o' times. Rufus seemed to be his favorite mano' business, as you might say."
"Oh, Mrs. Carder, tell me all you can about his visits here." The girl'sheart began to beat faster and she drew the clean, dried-up old womandown upon the edge of the bed beside her. Why should her father choosethis dreadful place, this impossible man as a refuge? It could only havebeen as a last resort for him, just as it now was for her.
"I was always away at school after his marriage," she went on. "I saw solittle of him."
Mrs. Carder looked uneasy.
"I saw nothin' of him except at a meal sometimes. He and my son wasalways shut up in Rufus's office."
"Did he seem--seem unhappy, Mrs. Carder?"
"Well--yes. He was a sort of an absent-minded man. Perhaps that was hisway. Really, I don't know a thing about their business, Miss Melody."The addition was made in sudden panic because the girl had grasped boththe wrinkled hands and was gazing searchingly into the old woman's faceas if she would wring information out of her.
"You wouldn't tell me if you did," said Geraldine in a low voice. "Youare afraid of your son. I saw it in your eyes downstairs. Had my fatherreason to be afraid of him? Tell me that. That is what I want to know."
"Your father is dead. What difference does it make?" asked the oldwoman, looking from side to side as if for a means of escape from thestrong young hands and eyes.
"Yes, poor Daddy. Well, I have come to help you, Mrs. Carder." Thespeaker released the wrinkled hands and the old woman rose in relief. "Ihave come to work for you, not for your son, and I am not going to beafraid of him."
The mother shook her head.
"We all work for him, my dear. He holds the purse-strings."
Geraldine seemed to see him holding the actual bag and leering at herover it with his odious, oblique eye and smile.
"And let me give you a word of advice," continued the old woman,lowering her voice and looking toward the door. "Don't make him mad.It's terrible when he's angry." She winked and lowered her voice to awhisper. "He's crazy about you and he's the biggest man in the county."The old woman nodded and snapped her eyes knowingly. "You've got a homehere for life if you don't make him mad. For life. I'll go down and makethe tea. You come down pretty soon."
She disappeared, leaving Geraldine standing in the middle of the room.She looked about her at the cheap, meager furniture, the small mirrorthat distorted her face, the bare outlook from the window.
"For life!" she repeated to herself. "For life!"
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