She remembered once reading a story in history of a prince who posed as a pauper and a pauper who took the prince’s place for a time, and when they tried to go back to their own lives they found they could not make people believe they were their true selves. Constance felt that her own case was similar. Everybody would persist in thinking her a saint. How should she make them understand that she was not? Would it be necessary for her to do some terrible deed, some wild, disreputable thing before she could make them understand?
Then suddenly she sensed that there was someone else standing near her in the hall, and turning quickly she saw her brother just behind her, a sweet, solemn look upon his face.
“Say, Connie, you’re great!” he said with a fervency she had never heard in his voice before, at least not when speaking of herself. “I hope you won’t think I was eavesdropping. I was in the library all the time, and I couldn’t very well get out without letting everybody know I had heard. You see somebody had locked the door into the back passageway, and there wasn’t any way to get out without going through the living room. I was in there drawing an outline for Dillie of where we had planted each kind of flower so she could have it to keep, and when those folks came I thought they had only come to call for a minute, so I just kept still and went on working. Then when you began to tell all about that accident it was too late to get out.”
Constance’s cheeks flamed crimson. So Frank had heard her all the way through!
“Oh, that’s all right, it was nothing.” She tried to laugh and failed utterly. “I had to do all I could to help the poor things.” She endeavored to make her voice sound casual but failed in that also. There was the sound of a sob in her throat.
“You poor kid!” said her brother, deep sympathy in his eyes. “I didn’t know you had to go through all that. But I just think it was great how you were such a good sport and stayed beside your roommate. I thought it was awfully fine of you to know what to do and to keep reading that Bible verse to her. I’m afraid I’d have skipped out! Connie, I didn’t know you had it in you to talk to people like that. I’ve always been thinking you were just a crazy kid, interested in the fellows and never thought about religion. But I’ve gotta hand it to you, and I guess I owe you an apology. I always supposed you just joined church ta get those pearls of Grand’s, but I see I was wrong and I’m sorry about all the things I said, kid. You’re the real thing and no mistake!”
“Oh, Frank, don’t!” said Constance, shivering. “I’m not. I’m just a sinner and a hypocrite! I’m so ashamed!”
Her face was red with shame and her eyes were filled with tears. She bowed her head and covered her face with her hands.
Suddenly Frank, half-shamefaced, laid his hand on her head.
“You’re a great kid!” he said solemnly. “I respect you, Connie. I mean it. I honestly do. I guess maybe religion is a good thing. I never thought about dying before, but you need it when you come to die, don’t you? Maybe I’ll get me some someday, too. I never thought religion had much to do with men before. I thought a guy that was religious was a sis, but if that man Seagrave is like that, I’m for it. He’s a great guy. Say, wasn’t that great of him to come up there and help you, and it was just the night before he had ta sail, did you know that? He musta been all kinds of busy.”
Constance lifted her head at that.
“The night before he sailed?” she said. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I figured it all out while you were talking in there. You see, Sam Howarth and I drove him ta the wharf.”
Then suddenly upon the scene arrived Delancey Whittemore in a priceless new sports car, bringing up around the curved driveway to the door with an “I have arrived” air that was both insolent and perfect.
“Who’s that poor fish?” growled Frank, stepping back into the shadow of the portiere.
“Mercy!” said Constance, catching a glimpse of the handsome, well-groomed face. “I’ve an engagement with him for luncheon at the club, and I forgot all about it. You meet him, won’t you, buddy, and tell him I’ll be down in a minute? That’s a dear! No, I can’t see him looking this way,” she protested as she saw refusal in her brother’s eyes. “See, dear, my eyes are all red. Go tell him; that’s a dear!” and she flew up the stairs.
Frank looked up after her in dismay, and then his expression hardened, his lips set with an elderly manner he could assume on occasion, and he went out to look over another of his sister’s suitors. He reflected as he went that he just could not see why a girl wanted so many men underfoot. One girl was enough for him, especially if it was Dillie. However, since Constance preferred that way, he would have to take the consequences. But why, for Pete’s sake, when she knew a fellow like Seagrave, couldn’t she just rest at that without looking further?
In this mood he went frowning out to meet Whittemore, who regarded him from a superior altitude and tried to patronize him.
But Frank was not in a mood to be patronized. He invited the caller in, said his sister would be down soon, and when Whittemore declined to come in and said he would just sit in the car and smoke, Frank sauntered out and patronized Whittemore’s car. Incidentally, too, he studied its owner, sizing him up according to a special boy code he had, measuring him with Seagrave in his mind.
Constance freshened up quickly and presently came down cool and collected, with a forced smile. But Frank looked at her critically and saw still that dewy look of recent tears about her lashes.
“Take care of yourself, Sister!” he said almost tenderly and gave her a meaningful look.
“Why should she?” laughed Whittemore with a half sneer on his handsome lips. “I’m here to do that.”
“Oh, yeah?” remarked Frank comically.
Constance looked from one to the other of the two young men and wondered as she was driven away if there had been a passage of arms between them and whether Frank had really intended that look of almost warning he had given her.
Chapter 16
Frank stood looking after them as they drove away, his young brows drawn in a deep frown.
“I’ll have to look that guy up,” he remarked to himself in a low tone. “I don’t like his mug. I wonder what she wants to monkey with him for?”
Then he went into the house to finish the elaborate plan he was making for Dillie’s garden. Dillie was gone to assist at a festivity her mother was giving to her mission band in the church parlor or Frank would certainly have been with her. But meanwhile he had a great many things to think about.
For instance, who would have supposed his sister was religious? How well she told that story. There was a great blister on Dillie’s garden plan where a tear had fallen unawares from his own eye while listening to that story.
It must be awful to have death suddenly walk into your life and only leave you a few minutes to get ready. It was great that Constance had a head on her and got hold of Seagrave to make that girl die happy. Good night! Suppose he got in a jam like that and had to die suddenly! What would he do?
He drew a ruled line down the garden path where the delphiniums and lilies were supposed to grow, and whistled through his teeth.
That was a great little verse Constance recited to that girl before Seagrave got there. That was John 3:16. Frank had learned that when he was in the primary class. He hadn’t gone to Sunday school now for seven or eight years. He quit when they tried to run in a new teacher on the class that none of them liked. All the class quit. He hadn’t been since. Of course Grand made a terrible row about it and appealed to Mother and Dad. But he had overheard Mother telling Grand that she mustn’t say anything about it, that he would get over it and come back of his own accord someday; that you couldn’t manage boys the way you could girls. And he had let it go at that. He had not gone back.
Well, of course if one were going to die, maybe it would be as well to know a few verses to be handy when needed, but then he wasn’t going to die for a long time—why worry? Only, of course, if one could be a Christian like
Seagrave, well, that wouldn’t be so bad. He wondered what made Seagrave that way.
Then his mind wandered back to Whittemore. Whittemore, Whittemore! Where had he heard that name? Oh, that was the name of the people who had the old Wilson estate out on the Pike, the place with a twelve-foot hedge of hemlock and inside that a young forest all around so you couldn’t see the house. Snobs, people who hid away like that, he thought. If they had a nice house, why didn’t they want people to enjoy it?
Well, he must look that guy up and see if he was fit company for Connie. Dad didn’t seem to realize what kind of brutes were running around these days. He seemed to just trust everybody.
So Frank finished his map and then sauntered downtown to hang around a certain drugstore where he could always learn a bit about everybody. All he had to do was buy a soda and then keep his ears open.
But what he learned that day of Delancey Whittemore absorbed him so that he did not notice when a party of boys and girls came in until they were fully upon him, and then suddenly a jazzy sweater was flung across his shoulder, the sleeve striking him full in the face, and the lazy drawl of Mary Esther cried out, “Hello, old thing, feeding yer face? Blow me to a soda, darling? I’m simply dying of thirst and I’m broke.”
“Sorry!” said Frank, rising in haste and restoring the sweater ceremoniously. “So’m I. I gotta beat it. S’long!”
A loud chorus of laughter from Mary Esther’s gang followed him as he stalked out of the drugstore and down the street to the church where he had promised to meet Dillie and help her escort the youngest of the mission band to their homes. But as he went he did some thinking.
Was Mary Esther always going to hang around and take it for granted that he belonged to her? Suppose now that Dillie had been with him when Mary Esther talked to him like that!
He must take some steps to put Mary Esther right where she belonged.
Yet even as he thought it, he wondered whether that would be possible. Whether Mary Esther would not take all possible occasions to insult and annoy him just because she was piqued. Well, let her go. It was a cinch he couldn’t stop her, and after all it was his fault. He had been a fool ever to go with a girl like Mary Esther. He knew it now. Perhaps he had always known it even when he was most crazy about her. That was it—he had been crazy about her. There ought to be some way for the brakes to be put on a fellow when he got crazy like that and stop him from being a fool. He guessed a fellow never did quite get rid of something he was ashamed of, did he? It was always cropping up. He thought of the one time he had taken Mary Esther out in his father’s car against his father’s express command. He hadn’t been found out. Nothing had happened to the car. He hadn’t done it again. But there was a memory. Mary Esther had insisted on having the car parked in a lane and snuggling up to him with her head on his shoulder. Mushy stuff! He hadn’t cared for it at the time. His mother had brought him up to be clean-minded, and it didn’t seem quite nice to him. But he had to be a sport, didn’t he, and do the thing a girl expected? There had been a kiss and he was ashamed of it. He hadn’t been given to that sort of thing; it seemed silly. There had been no thrill in kissing Mary Esther. He had come as near to disliking her that night as he could, while he was still rather crazy about going with her. He rubbed his lips hard at the memory of it. Someday he would have to tell Dillie about that kiss perhaps, and it wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience, because Dillie wasn’t that kind. Dillie gave no liberties. That is, one took no liberties with Dillie. Dillie had been kept sweet and clean. He wished he had never seen Mary Esther. Did one ever get quite clear of the Mary Esthers?
Then he remembered the rumor he had heard about that fish-faced Whittemore. He’d have to follow that up and see if it were true. It if was, there must be some way to make Connie understand she must cut him out. Gee! Suppose she wouldn’t listen? He was younger than she was, of course. She might be angry. She’d been mighty sweet lately, but no telling how she would act if he attempted to get into her affairs. Well, and no telling whether what he had to tell would make any difference with her if she should happen to get crazy about the man. Life was like that, Frank had observed. People got out of their heads about somebody now and then and you couldn’t do anything with them. Then they were sorry afterward. Seemed as if there must be some ballast or something somewhere that one could have to keep one from doing fool things!
Then suddenly he was at the church and there was Dillie in a pink organdy with a swarm of cute little kiddies around her. Gee, wasn’t Dillie sweet! When you saw her like that, wasn’t she sweet? Nobody would look at girls like Mary Esther if there were girls like Dillie around, thought Frank. But then girls like Dillie didn’t stick around everywhere to be had for the asking. They weren’t always on the landscape like the Mary Esther kind. You had to go and find the Dillies of life. Discover them and win them. Frank liked that. It made them more worthwhile than just to get a girl from the other fellows because you happened to be able to buy her more sodas or have a better car.
So Frank lifted a small, tired baby with a sticky fist full of colored paper favors and carried her on his shoulder to her home, while Dillie led two other sticky ones, stained with ice cream but smiling, and several other larger ones tagged on behind.
Frank liked it. He didn’t care if they did meet Mary Esther and her crew! Let them stare! He was having a good time.
But tomorrow he had to hunt up the Whittemore pedigree and take care of his sister!
So Frank and Dillie took the last happy, sticky child to its home and then sauntered back through the long shadows of the late afternoon perfectly content with each other’s company. They slammed through a set of tennis on Dillie’s court, which Frank was gradually whipping into fine shape, bolted their dinners, and Frank returned to the Fairchild house for an evening of ping-pong.
Sauntering home under the bright summer stars, Frank planned out his campaign for the next day. Dillie was going to the city shopping with her mother in the morning so he would have the time uninterrupted. He would go to the courthouse first and look up some records and then hunt up Joe Rafferty, who used to live on the old Johnston estate, was stable boy or something to the Johnsons, and knew the history of everybody for miles around, all back through the years. It might not be a bad idea to drop around and look the improvements over at the old house. He had heard there was a groom there taking care of the horses of the new owner.
He ought to be able to drop a word or two of enlightenment. Then there was a village a few miles north that had been connected with that first rumor he heard in the drugstore. If he could get Dad’s car he would rustle around there for a while and see what he could bring to light. It ought to be dead easy.
And when he remembered Constance telling that story to Doris’s people, he reflected that it ought to be easy to make her understand about Whittemore, provided he really had the facts. A girl who could talk that way wouldn’t stand for a guy like Whittemore, not if she knew what he was!
So Frank arose with alacrity quite early the next morning and started out on his tour as detective.
It might have amused his elders mightily if they could have watched the indifferent way he went about it, sauntering into places and buying a paper or a bag of peanuts. Asking a casual question or two, following out a clue with the quickness of a rat terrier on the scent, yet never seeming to be anything but an idle youth on a day’s pleasure.
Strangely enough his father had consented to his taking the car for the morning, which made it possible for him to cover more ground to the hour than he had expected, and just before the two o’clock train came in, on which he expected Dillie to arrive from the city, he came driving into his hometown well satisfied with his morning’s work. He was reflecting that the few brief entries he had set down in his grubby notebook, now reposing in his pocket, ought to be proof enough to his sister of the warning he would give her when the right time came. If they weren’t, he would take her over to the county seat and the village over the stat
e line and let her see and hear for herself.
So he drove up to the station with a flourish just as the train came in, and was there ready to carry the parcels for Dillie and her mother and take them home in the car. It made him very proud to be able to do that. And it added not a little to his pleasure that they should pass Mary Esther performing the unusual duty of carrying a basket home from the market with not a single swain in sight. Frank gave her a mere gesture toward his hatless head as he flew by with his hair blowing wildly. It didn’t even occur to him to stop and give her a ride. Poor Mary Esther! But Dillie hadn’t seen her. Dillie was telling Frank about a cute little dog they had seen in the window of a pet shop in the city. Sparkling little Dillie! How pretty she looked in that dark blue frock with the fluffy white sleeves and the small bue hat with the bit of scarlet down next to her dark curls. He wondered how he had ever thought Mary Esther was worth looking at.
Dillie was all eager to play tennis after her morning. Fairchild invited Frank to stay to dinner so they could finish their tennis set before it got dark, and then Frank came in again. Dillie had bought a wonderful new picture puzzle of seven hundred pieces and they spent the evening putting it together. Frank forgot all about his brotherly anxieties and had a good time.
The last thing he thought of as he laid his happy head upon his pillow that night was that he must try to get hold of Constance in the morning and work it around to tell her what he knew about Whittemore. He couldn’t be quite easy in his mind till he got that all fixed up. Then he disposed himself to deep sleep!
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