CHAPTER V
The New Help
Geraldine, begging to be excused from supper on the night of herarrival, drank the glass of milk that Mrs. Carder gave her, and at anearly hour laid an aching head on her pillow and slept fitfully throughthe night.
A heavy rain began to fall and continued in the morning. She still feltsingularly numb toward the world and life in general. Her own room wasbad enough, but outside it was the bare landscape, the desolate house,and its vulgar host.
Mrs. Carder, under orders from her son, presented herself early with atray on which were coffee and toast, and the girl had more than a twingeof compunction at being waited on by the worn, wrinkled old woman.
"This is Sunday," she said. "I feel very tired. If you will let me stayhere and be lazy until this afternoon, I should like it, but only oncondition that you promise not to bring me anything more or take anytrouble for me."
"Just as you say," responded the old woman; and she reported thisrequest below stairs. Her son received it with a nod.
All the afternoon he hovered near the parlour with its horsehairfurniture, and about four-thirty the young girl came downstairs. Hegreeted her effusively and she endeavored to pass him and go to thekitchen. The most lively sensation of which she was conscious now wascompassion for the old woman who had brought up her breakfast.
"No, don't go out there," said Rufus decidedly. "Ma is giving the handstheir supper. You'd only be in the way. Sit down and take it easy whileyou can."
The speaker established the reluctant guest in a slippery rocking-chairof ancient days. The atmosphere seemed to indicate that the room hadawakened from a long sleep for her reception.
Rufus sat down near her. "We're a democratic bunch here," he said, eyinghis companion as if he could never drink in enough of her youth andbeauty. "We usually eat all together, but distinguished company, youknow," he smiled and winked at her while she listened to the clatter ofknives and forks at the long table in the kitchen. "We'll have oursupper when they get through."
"I should think the servants might relieve your mother of that work,"said Geraldine.
"Servants! Hired girl, do you mean? Nice time we'd have tryin' to keep'em here. Oh, Ma's pert as a cricket. She don't mind the work. That'sreal kindness, you know, to old folks," he continued. "All a mistake toput 'em on the shelf. They're lots happier doin' the work they'reaccustomed to."
"To-morrow I shall be helping her," said Geraldine mechanically, herwhole soul shrinking from the gloating expression in her companion'sface.
"Depends on how you do it," he responded protectingly. "I don't wantthose hands put in dishwater."
"I shall do whatever your mother will let me do," responded the girlquickly. "That is what I came for. I've come here to earn my living."
Rufus Carder laughed leniently, and leaning forward would have pattedher hand, but she drew it away with a quick motion which warned him toproceed slowly. In her eyes was an indignant light.
"You can do about as you like with me, little girl," he said fondly. "Ifit's a dishwasher for Ma that you want, why, I'll have to get one,that's all."
"I heard that you have found it very difficult to get help out here."
"I always get whatever I go after," was the reply. And the guest had afleeting consolation in the thought that she might make easier the lotof that wrinkled slave in the kitchen.
"You don't know yet all I can do for you," pursued Carder, and Geraldinewrithed under the self-satisfied gaze which seemed to be taking stock ofher person from head to foot; "nor what I intend to do," he added. "Mywife was a plain sort of woman and I've been wrapped up in business. Seethat little buildin' down there side o' the road? That's my office. Ican see everybody who comes in or goes out of the place and can keep myhand on everything that's doin' on the farm. I've held my nose prettyclose to the grindstone and I've earned the right to let up a little. Iknow you find things very plain here, but I'm goin' to give you leave todo it all over. I intend you shall have just what you want, littlegirl."
Every time Rufus Carder used that expression, "little girl," a strangesensation of nausea crept again around Geraldine's heart. It was as ifhe actually caressed her with those big-jointed and not over-cleanhands. She still remembered the pleading of his mother not to make himangry.
"Your mother should be your first thought," she said.
"Well, that's all right," he returned. "Of course she's gettin' alongand I put water in the kitchen for her this year; but it's legitimatefor young folks to begin where old folks leave off. If it wa'n't so, howwould there be any improvement in the world? You and I'll make lots o'trips to town until you get this old house to lookin' just the way youwant it. I'm sorry Dick Melody can't come out and see us here."
Tears sprang to the girl's eyes. Tears of grief and an infiniteresentment that this coarse creature could so familiarly name herfather.
Mrs. Carder here appeared to announce that their supper was ready, so nomore was said until in the next room they found a small table set fortwo.
"Have you eaten your supper, Mrs. Carder?" Geraldine asked of theharassed and heated little woman who was hurrying back and forth loadedwith dishes.
"Yes, much as I ever do," was the reply. "I get my meals on the fly."Then, meeting her son's lowering expression, she hastened to add, "I getall I want that way, you know. It's the way I like the best."
"It isn't the way you must do while I'm here," responded Geraldinefirmly. "You're tired out. Come and sit down with your son and let mewait on you while you rest."
"Don't that sound daughterly?" remarked Rufus exultantly. "Perhaps Ididn't know how to pick out the right girl. What?" His mother, relievedby his returned complacence, became voluble with reassurances; andGeraldine, seeing that Rufus's hand was approaching her arm, hastilyslid into her chair and he took the opposite place.
"Didn't I tell you we'd make up for the lunch that great porpoisecheated us out of yesterday?" he said in high good-humor.
Geraldine's desolate heart yearned after the kind friend so soon lost.
"That'll do, Ma. I guess the grub's all on the table. Go chase yourself.Miss Melody'll pour my coffee."
"Don't wash any of the dishes, Mrs. Carder, please, until I get outthere," said Geraldine.
The old woman disappeared with one last glance at her son whom Geraldineeyed with sudden steadiness.
He smiled at her with semi-toothless fondness.
"Give me my coffee, little girl. I'm famished. Isn't this jolly--justyou and me?"
Geraldine poured the coffee and handed him the cup; then she spokeimpressively.
"Mr. Carder, this is the last time this must happen. I refuse to sitdown and make a waitress of your old mother. If you insist on showingher no consideration, I shall go away from here at once."
Her companion laughed, quietly, but with genuine amusement andadmiration.
"By ginger," he said, "when you're mad, you're the handsomest thingabove ground. Go away! That's a good one. Don't I tell you, you can doanything with me?" The speaker paused to drink his coffee noisily,keeping his eyes on the exquisite, stiff little mouth opposite him. "Iknow I ain't any dandy to look at. I've been too busy rollin' up themoney that's goin' to make you go on velvet the rest o' your days:you're welcome to change all that, too. Yes, indeed. Never fear. When wedo over the house we're goin' to do over yours truly, too. I'll doexactly as you say and you can turn me out a fashion plate that'll behard to beat."
"I'm not interested in turning you out a fashion plate," returnedGeraldine coldly. "I'm interested in making the lot of your mothereasier, that is all."
Rufus regarded her thoughtfully and nodded. It penetrated his brain thathe had been going too fast with this disdainful beauty. He ratheradmired her for her disdain; it added zest to the certainty of hercapitulation.
"Have it your own way, little girl," he said leniently. "I know you'retired, still. You're not eatin'. Eat a good supper and to-night takeanother long sleep and to-morrow everything will look different
."
Geraldine still regarded him with an unfaltering gaze. "We arestrangers," she said. "I wish you not to call me 'little girl!'"
Rufus smiled at her admiringly. "It's hard for me to be formal with DickMelody's girl," he said. "What shall I call you? My lady? That's allright, that's what you are. My lady. Another cup o' coffee please, mylady. It tastes extra good from your fair hands. We'll do away with thisrocky tea-set, too. You're goin' to have eggshell China if you want it;and of course you do want it, you little princess."
His extreme air of proprietorship had several times during thisinterview convinced Geraldine that her host had been drinking. In spiteof his odious frank admiration and the glimpses that he gave of somedisquieting power, Geraldine scorned him too much to be afraid of him,and while she doubted increasingly that it would be possible for her toremain here, she determined to see what the morning would bring forth.The man's passion for acquisition, evidenced by his showmanship of hisaccumulations, might again absorb him after the first flush of hernovelty wore off. She would enter into the work of the house, she wouldnever again sit _tete-a-tete_ with him, and he should find it impossibleto see her alone. His mother had warned her that he was terrible when hewas angry, and Geraldine suspected that the mother always felt the bruntof his wrath. She must be careful, therefore, not to make the lot ofthat mother harder while endeavoring to ease it.
As soon as she could, Geraldine escaped to the kitchen where she foundMrs. Carder at her wet sink.
"I asked you to wait for me, Mrs. Carder," she said.
The old woman looked up from her steaming pan, her countenance full oftrouble.
"Now, Rufus don't want you to do anything like this, Miss Melody, andPete's helpin' me, you see."
Geraldine turned and saw a boy who was carrying a heavy, steaming kettlefrom the stove to the sink, and she met his eyes fixed upon her. Sherecognized him at once as the driver of the motor in which she and herhost had come from the station. As the chauffeur he had appeared like aboy of ordinary size, but now she saw that his arms were long and hislegs short and bowed, and in height he would barely reach her shoulder.
The dwarf had a long, solemn, tanned face and a furtive, sullen eye.Geraldine remembered Rufus Carder's rough tone as he had summoned him atthe station. He was perhaps a wretched, lonely creature like herself.She met his look with a smile that, directed toward his master, wouldhave sent Rufus into the seventh heaven of complacence.
"I have met Pete already," she said, kindly. "He drove us up from thestation. I'm glad you are helping Mrs. Carder, Pete. She seems to havetoo much to do."
The boy did not reply, but he appeared unable to remove his eyes fromGeraldine's kind look, and careless of where he was going he stumbledagainst the sink.
"Look out, Pete!" exclaimed his mistress. "What makes you so clumsy? Younearly scalded me. I guess he's tired, too." The old woman sighed."Everybody picks on Pete. They all find something for him to do."
"Then run away now," said Geraldine, still warming the boy's dull eyeswith her entrancing smile, "and let me take your place. I can dry dishesas fast as anybody can wash them."
The dwarf slowly backed away, and disappeared into the woodshed, keepinghis gaze to the last on the sunny-haired loveliness which had invadedthe ugliness of that low-ceiled kitchen.
Geraldine seized a dish-towel, and Mrs. Carder, her hands in the suds,cast a troubled glance around at her.
"Rufus won't like it," she declared timorously.
"Why should you say anything so foolish? What did I come out here for?"
The old woman looked around at her with a brief, strange look.
"You couldn't get help," went on Geraldine, "and so as I needed a home Icame."
"Is that what they told you?"
"Yes. That is what my stepmother told me, and I see it is true. You seemto have no one here but men."
"Yes," replied Mrs. Carder. "It--it hasn't been a healthy place forgirls." She cast a glance toward the door as she spoke in a loweredvoice.
"Dreadfully lonely, you mean?" inquired Geraldine, unpleasantly affectedby the other's timidity. "The woman has no spirit," she added mentallywith some impatience.
Mrs. Carder looked full in her eyes for a silent space; then: "Rufus cando anything he wants to--anything," she whispered.
Geraldine, in the act of wiping a coarse, thick dinner-plate, met theother's gaze with a little frown.
"Don't give in to him, my dear," went on the sharp whisper. "You are toobeautiful, too young. He's crazy about you, so you be firm. Don't givein to him. Insist on his marrying you!"
The thick dinner-plate fell to the floor with a crash.
"Marrying him!" ejaculated Geraldine.
"Sh! Sh! Oh, Miss Melody, hush!"
Geraldine began to shiver from head to foot. The lover-like words andactions of her host seemed rushing back to memory with all the otherrepulsive experiences of past weeks.
The kitchen door opened and the master appeared.
"Who's smashing the crockery?" he inquired.
"It's your awkward help," rejoined Geraldine, her teeth chattering asshe stooped to pick up the plate.
"I knew you weren't fit for this kind of thing," he said tenderly,approaching, to the girl's horror. "Where's that confounded Pete?"
"I sent him away," said Geraldine, indignant with herself for trembling."I wanted to do this; it is what I came for. The plate didn't break."
The man regarded her flushed face with a gaze that scorched her.
"Break everything in the old shack if you want to--that is, all but onething!"
He stood for half a minute more while his mother scalded a new pan fullof dishes.
"What is that poem," he went on--"What's that about, 'Thou shalt notwash dishes nor yet feed the swine'? Well, well, we'll see later."
Geraldine's heart was pounding too hard to allow her to speak. Sheseized another plate in her towel, his mother, her wrinkled lips pursed,kept her eyes on her dishpan, so with a pleased smile at his own aptquotation the master reluctantly removed his presence from the room.
"I'm very sorry for you, Mrs. Carder," said Geraldine breathlessly,meanwhile holding her plate firmly lest another crash bring back theowner, "but I can't stay here. I must go away to-morrow."
Her companion gave a fleeting glance around at the girl, and herwithered lips relaxed in a smile as she shook her head.
"Oh, no, you won't, my dear."
At the unexpected reply Geraldine's heart thumped harder.
"I certainly shall, Mrs. Carder. I'm sorry not to stay and help you, butit's impossible."
"It will be impossible for you to go," was the colorless reply. "Nobodygoes away from here till Rufus is ready they should; then they leavewhether they have any place to go to or not. It's goin' to be differentwith you. I can see that. You needn't be scared by what I said, a minuteago. You are safe. You've got a home for life. I only hope you won't lethim send me away." The old woman again turned around to Geraldine andher tired old eyes filled with tears.
"Nothing should be too good for you with all your son's money," rejoinedGeraldine hotly.
Her panic-stricken thought was centered now on one idea. Escape. Thenight was closing in. The clouds had cleared away. The stretches offields in all directions, the lack of neighbors, the horrors of the oldwoman's implications, all weighed on the girl like a crushing nightmare.The dishes at last put away, she bade the weary old woman good-night,and apprehensively looking from side to side stole to the stairwaywithout encountering anyone and mounting to her dreary chamber shelocked the door.
She hurried to the window and looked out.
A half-moon in the sky showed her that the distance down was too far tojump. She might sprain or break one of those ankles which must go fastand far to-night.
Packing her belongings back in her bag she sat down to wait. Graduallyall sounds about the house ceased. Still she waited. The minutes seemedhours, but not until her watch pointed to midnight did she put on herhat and jacket
and slip off her shoes.
Then going to the door she gradually turned the key. The process wasremarkably noiseless. If only the hinges were as friendly. Very, veryslowly she turned the knob and very, very slowly opened the door. Not asound.
When the opening was wide enough to admit her body she was glidingthrough, when her stockinged foot struck something soft. She thought itwas a dog lying across the threshold, and only by heroic effort shecontrolled the cry that sprang to her lips. The dark mass half rose, andby the faint moonlight she could see two long, suddenly out-flung arms."Pete," she whispered, "Pete, you _will_ let me pass!"
"I'm sorry, lady. He'd kill me. He'd tear me to pieces," came back thewhisper.
"Please, Pete," desperately, "I'll do anything for you. Please,_please_!"
For answer the long arms pushed her back through the open door. Anotherdoor opened and Rufus Carder's nasal voice sounded. "You there, Pete?"
A sonorous snore was the only answer. For a minute that other doorremained open, but the rhythmical snoring continued, and at last thelatch was heard to close.
Geraldine again cautiously opened her door a crack.
"Pete," she whispered.
The dwarf snored.
"Please talk to me, Pete. I'm sure you are a kind boy." The pleadingwhisper received no answer beyond the heavy breathing.
"I want to ask your advice. I want you to tell me what I can do. I'msure you don't love your master."
A sort of snort interrupted the snoring which then went on rhythmicallyas before.
Geraldine closed her door noiselessly. She sat down white and unnerved.She was a prisoner, then. For a time her mind was in such a whirl thatshe was unable to form a plan.
She put her hand to her head.
"I must try to sleep if I can in this hideous place. Then to-morrow Imay be able to think."
Locking the door, she drew the bureau against it; then she undressed andfell into bed. Her youth and exhaustion did the rest. She slept untilmorning.
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