Re-Creations

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “Yep! She’s all right. Well, so long, Maxwell. We gotta beat it back to work.” And with a great whizzing and banging of joyful celebration the racer shot its way back uphill, and the two jumped out quite casually as if they had been off to get a soda and come back to work again.

  Cornelia, white and trembling from the horror of the thing, tried to praise, to question, to exclaim; but failing to make an impression on the two indifferent workers, went upstairs, fell on her knees, and cried. Somewhere in the midst of her tears her crying turned into a prayer of thanksgiving, and she came down with an uplifted look on her face. Now and then as she went about her duties, she stole to the front window and looked out on the two sturdy workers. She could have hugged them both; she was so proud of them—they were so cool, so capable, and so indifferent! Just regular boys!

  Maxwell came back that evening. She had somehow known he would. He was filled with gratitude to the two who had so gallantly saved him from a catastrophe, which would have shadowed his whole life. He still shuddered over the thought of what might have happened.

  “I will never again leave a child alone in an automobile,” he declared. “That girl was a little terror. I never saw one so spoiled and disagreeable in my life. She was determined to be allowed to run the car from the minute she got in, and she annoyed me constantly by playing with the electric buttons and getting her hands constantly on the wheel. I never dreamed she would have the strength to start the car, although she is large and strong for her age. But she has all kinds of nerve and impudence, and I might have known better than to stop here at all when I had such a passenger. Her grandmother is a nervous wreck, but she doesn’t blame me, fortunately, although I blame myself decidedly. It is my business to know men, and I should have known that child well enough to realize it was a risk to leave her.”

  “Kid ought to be spanked!” declared Carey gruffly. “Know what she did? When she saw she was going to run into that car, she lost every bit of nerve and began climbing over the back of the seat. Some kid that! Just bad all through. Any nervy kid I know would have stuck it out and tried to steer her somehow, but that kid had a yellow streak.”

  “You’re right there,” declared Maxwell, with watchful eyes upon the young man. “But you had your nerve with you all right, I noticed. When you swung off that running board, it was an even chance you took. If you had missed your calculation by so much as a hair’s breadth, you would have been smashed up pretty badly, crushed between the cars, probably.”

  Carey gave his shoulders a slight shrug.

  “It’s all in a lifetime,” he said lightly. “But, say, that’s a peach of a car you’ve got. Had it long?” And they launched into a lengthy discussion of cars in general and Maxwell’s in particular. Cornelia noticed that all the time Maxwell was watching her brother intently. As he got up to leave, he asked casually, “Are you still working with the garage people?”

  Carey colored and lifted his chin a trifle haughtily.

  “Yes. I—yes!” he answered defiantly.

  “Stick to it till something better comes along,” advised Maxwell. “It isn’t a bad line, and you learn a lot about machines that won’t do you any harm in the future. You’re a good man, and there’s a good job waiting for you somewhere.” And with that, he said, “Good night.”

  Mr. Copley came in presently with a late edition of the evening paper. He had been called to the home of his manager, who was ill, on a business consultation. He looked tired but exalted. He spread the paper out on the table under the lamp and called the children.

  “See!” he said. “Do you know who that is?”

  They all gathered around, and behold there was Carey looking at them from the pages of the Evening Bulletin. Carey! Their brother! They stared and stared again.

  The picture had him in football garb, with one eye squinting at the sun and a broad grin on his lips. It was Carey two years ago, on the high school football team, but it looked like him still. Beneath from a border looked forth the bold, handsome features of Brand Barlock, and to one side another border held the round, fat, impertinent face of the child who had started the car that afternoon. The article below was headed in large letter:

  FOOTBALL HERO SAVES TWO LIVES

  Carey Copley Jumps from Moving Car and Saves Child and Grandmother!

  “Now, isn’t that the limit? How did that thing get in there?” demanded the young hero angrily. “And say! How’d they get my picture? Some little fool reporter went around to school, I suppose. Wouldn’t that make you mad? How’d they find that out I’d like to know? Brand never told, that’s one thing sure. Brand knows how to keep his mouth shut. You don’t suppose that guy Maxwell would give it to them, do you?”

  “He said he was going to see that everybody knew about it,” chuckled Louise happily. “I think it oughta be known, don’t you, Daddy? When a boy—that is a man—does a big thing like saving two lives, I think everybody oughta know how brave he is.”

  “Nonsense!” said Carey. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. That wasn’t anything to do.” But his tone showed that he was pleased at the general attitude of his family. Nevertheless, he slammed around noisily in the dining room, pretending not to hear when his father read aloud the account of the accident in the paper, and went whistling upstairs immediately after. At the top he called down, “Say, I’m mighty glad they were fair to Brand in that article. Brand’s a great fellow. I couldn’t have done a thing without him and his car. He knew just what to do without being told, and he can drive, I’ll say. Brand deserves all they can say of him. He’s a good fellow.”

  Altogether, the household slept joyously that night, and Harry dreamed of going to the mountains in a blimp and flying back tied to the tail of a kite.

  When Maxwell came to get Harry the next afternoon, he asked Cornelia one question that made her wonder a little. It seemed almost irrelevant.

  “Did your brother ever have anything to do with managing men?” he said, looking thoughtfully at the neat masonry that was growing steadily longer and wider and higher.

  “Why—I—hardly know,” she replied, laughing. “I’ve been away so much from home.”

  “Captain of the basketball team in high school,” announced Harry shrewdly. “And captain of a local baseball team they had out the other side of the city last summer. Some team it was, too; licked everything in sight and then some. Carey had ‘em all right where he wanted ‘em, and when a team treated ‘em mean once, Kay just called the fellows off, and they wouldn’t play one of ‘em till he got a square deal with the ump!”

  Harry’s eyes sparkled. He made an earnest young advocate.

  “Fine! I must hear more about that. I foresee I’m going to have a thrilling trip. There’ll be lots to talk about. Well, Miss Copley, we’ll bid you good-bye and get on our way. I want to get on well this afternoon in case we have bad weather tomorrow. But it looks clear now. We’ll travel late tonight. There ought to be a wonderful moon. I wish you were going along.” He gave her a wistful glance, and she flushed with pleasure.

  “Thank you,” she said appreciatively. “If I were only a little boy with nothing to do!”

  “Sister!” protested Harry. “I’ve lots to do. I guess I work every day after school.”

  “You’re not a little boy, Harry; you’re almost a man,” answered his sister lovingly. “I wasn’t meaning you at all. I said if I were a little boy with nothing to do, then I could go along. I meant you could take care of me, see?” She gave a dear little smile at him, and he grinned.

  “Aw! Quit yer kiddin’. So long, Cornie! Be back Monday. Take care o’ yerself!”

  Maxwell’s eyes met hers; they laughed together at the boyishness of it, and Maxwell said good-bye and departed. Cornelia, as she went into the house, wondered why the brief conversation had seemed to lighten the monotony of the day so much and then fell to wondering why Maxwell had asked that question about Carey.

  Five minutes later the doorbell rang, and when she opened
the door, there stood Clytie Dodd, a brilliant red feather surrounding a speck of a hat and her face painted and powdered more wickedly than ever. She was wearing a yellow organdie dress with scallops on the bottom and adornments of colored spheres of cloth attached with black stitches at intervals over the dress. She carried a green parasol airily, and there was a “man” with an incipient and tenderly nursed mustache waiting for her at the gate. She greeted Cornelia profusely and talked very loudly and very fast.

  “Is Kay here? I’m just dying to see him and kid him about having his picture in the paper. He always said he’d never get his there. But isn’t it great though? Some hero, I’ll tell the world! Who was the kid? Anybody belonging to the family? The paper didn’t state. Oh, darn! I’m sorry Kay isn’t here. I wanted him to meet my friend,” she said nodding toward the man at the gate. “We’ve got a date on for tonight, and we want him and his friend Mr. Barlock. Some girlfriends of mine are coming, and we’re going to have a dance and a big meal. It’s just the kind of thing Kay likes. When’ll he be back? Where is he? At the garage? We stopped there, but Pat said he’d went off with a car for some big-timer. I thought p’r’aps he’d stopped off here to take you on a ride er something. Well, I s’pose I’ll have to leave a message. Say, Ed, what time we going to start? Eight? Oh, rats! We oughta start at half past seven. It’s a good piece out to that Horseheads Inn I was tellin’ you ‘bout. We’ll start at half past seven. Say, you tell your brother to call me up soon’s he gets here. He often phones from the drugstore. Tell him I’ll give the details. But in case he don’t get me, tell him we’ll stop by here for him at half past seven. Tell him not to keep us waiting. I gotta go on now ’cause we gotta tell two other people, a girl and a man. It’s awful annoying not having telephones everywhere. I don’t know what we’d ever do without ours. S’long! Don’t forget to tell Kay!” And she flitted down the steps and out the gate to her “man.”

  Chapter 23

  That awful girl!

  Cornelia shut the door and dropped weakly into a chair. Her punishment was come upon her. She might have known she ought not to meddle with a girl like that, inviting her to the house and making her feel free there, setting the seal of family friendship on an intimacy that never ought to have been between her and the son of the house.

  And now what should she do? Should she conceal the message and try to get Carey to go somewhere else with her? Or should she tell him the truth and let him choose his own way? She knew beforehand that any kind of remonstrance from her would be vain. Carey was at the age when he liked to feel that he owned himself and took no advice from anybody unless he asked for it. She was enough of a stranger to him yet to realize that she must go slowly and carefully. It is a pity that more of us cannot keep the polite relation of comparative strangers with our own family; it might tend to better things. It is strange that we do not realize this. The fact is, the best-meaning of us often antagonize the ones we love and send them swiftly toward the very thing we are trying to keep them from doing. The wisdom of serpents and the harmlessness of doves are often forgotten in our scheme of living, and loving consideration of one another is a thing far too rare in even Christian homes today.

  Cornelia’s honest nature always inclined to telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. She would have liked to go to her brother and give the message straight, knowing that he would decline it, but the fact was, she was not at all sure of him. Clytie’s manner implied that this sort of thing had been habitual amusement with him. And Cornelia was not at all sure that Clytie’s behavior on the night of the party had made any deep impression against her. Carey was young and liked fun. These young people were ready to show him a good time, and what boy of his age could resist that? If she only knew of some way of getting up a counter-attraction! But what would a mild little fudge party or a walk to the park be beside the hilarity offered by Clytie’s program?

  Moreover, even if she succeeded in getting Carey away from the house before the wild crowd arrived, Clytie would be sure to tell him afterward, and he would blame the sister for not giving the message. She was sure he would do that even if he did not intend to go. And there was Brand! He was invited, too. Of course Carey would go if Brand did. She wildly reviewed the idea of taking Brand into her confidence and rejected it as not only useless but a thing that would be regarded by Carey as a disloyalty to himself. Her perplexity deepened. Then she suddenly remembered her new source of help, and slipping to her knees beside the big chair in which she had been sitting, she prayed about it.

  An outsider would think it a strange coincidence, perhaps. It did not seem so to the weary, perplexed sister that even while she knelt and poured out her worries to her heavenly Father, the answer to her prayer should be on the very doorstep. She rose as the bell pealed through the house once more and opening the door found Grace Kendall standing there. She seemed like an angel from heaven, and Cornelia almost wondered whether she shouldn’t tell her troubles to this new friend.

  “I’ve come to ask a favor,” Grace said eagerly. “And you’re to promise first that you will tell me truly if there is any reason why it isn’t convenient to grant it. Now do you promise?”

  Cornelia laughingly promised, but before the request was made she heard Carey’s step at the side door, and a shadow of anxiety came into her eyes. Carey, not knowing of their visitor, came straight into the living room in search of his sister.

  “I couldn’t get any more cement tonight. Isn’t that a shame?” he said before he saw their guest and then came forward, half abashed, to greet her, apologizing for his rough working garb.

  “Please don’t apologize,” said Grace eagerly. “You look fine. You couldn’t work in evening clothes, could you? And wait till you hear what I’ve come to beg you to do. Are you awfully busy this evening, both of you?”

  “Not a thing in the world to do,” said Carey eagerly. “I’m at your service. What can I do for you? Anything but sing. I really can’t sing well enough to go into a choir.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to sing tonight,” said Grace, laughing. “Guess again. Now you’re sure you haven’t any engagement?”

  “No, indeed, honor bright,” he declared, smiling.

  “Well, then I’m going to beg you to do a big favor. You see, Father is asked to speak over at Glen Avon tonight, and he has just discovered that they only have two trains a day, and the evening train will get him there too late for the meeting, so he had to hurry around and try to get someone to take him in a car. We have found the car. It belongs to Mr. Williams, and he is just eager to lend it, but he can’t drive it himself, because he had to go to New York at five o’clock. He’s rather particular about who drives it, and he said if we could get a good, reliable driver, we were welcome to it. Father knew that you were used to cars; he’s watched you driving Mr. Barlock’s car sometimes, and he wondered if you would be willing to go and drive us. The car is a great big, roomy one, and we can take as many along as want to go. And I thought perhaps you and the children would like to go, too.” She turned to Cornelia and then back to Carey. “You’re quite sure there isn’t any reason at all why it isn’t convenient for you?”

  “Perfectly,” said Carey, with shining eyes. “I’d rather drive than eat any day in the week. And it will be a dandy trip. The roads over there are like velvet. There’s going to be a moon tonight, too! Gee! I’m glad you asked me. When do we start?”

  “Why, Father has to be there by eight. How long do you think it will take? We must not run any risk of being late. It is some kind of a convention and Father has charge of the hour from eight to nine. We won’t have to stay late, you know, and we can ride a while afterward if we like.”

  “Great!” said Carey. “I’ll bring you home by the way of the river. It’ll be peachy that way tonight. Say! This is wonderful! I think we ought to start by half past six or quarter to seven. Cornie can you get through dinner by six thirty? That would be safer.”

  “Oh, surely,” said Cornelia
eagerly. “We’ll have the dinner on the table the minute Father gets in, five minutes to six, and we’ll just stand the dishes and run. Won’t it be delightful?”

  Then suddenly the thought of Clytie Dodd and her party came back with a twinge of horror. Ought she to tell Carey at once?

  Grace Kendall was hurrying away with many thanks and happy exclamations of how glad she was she had made up her mind to come. She could not tell it before Grace, anyway, although perhaps Carey would have thought she ought.

  “What’s the matter, Nell?” asked her brother as he came in and shut the door. “Don’t you want to go? I should think it would be a good rest for you.”

  “Oh, yes, indeed! I want to go, of course, but I just remembered. Perhaps I should have told you before you promised. Clytie Dodd was here—”

  “What?” he looked angry and disgusted.

  “She wanted you to go to some ride and dance tonight and get Brand to go, too. She wants you to call her up at once.”

  “Aw! Forget it! She’s always got something on the brain. Call her up. I shan’t call her up. She’s a little fool, anyway.”

  He looked half ashamed as he said it. He was perfectly aware that his sister must have seen him all dressed up taking her to a movie several weeks ago.

  “But—they’re going to stop here for you at half past seven.”

  “Well, let ‘em stop! We’ll be gone, won’t we? She’ll have her trouble for her pains, won’t she?” He really was speaking in a very rude tone to his sister, but she could see that he was annoyed and mortified to have to talk with her at all on this subject, and the things he said filled her with a triumphant elation.

  “But, Carey, oughtn’t you to call her up and tell her you have another engagement? Isn’t that the right thing, the manly thing, to do?”

  “Oh, bother! You don’t understand! Let me manage this, please. I guess I know my own business. I tell you she’s a—fool!”