CHAPTER FOURTEEN
_Shows how Mrs. Gerrard Pennington, unhappy and distraught, beseechesUncle Bob to help her save Margaret Elisabeth; also how Mr. GerrardPennington comes to the rescue, and how in the end his wife submitsgracefully to the inevitable, which is not so bad after all._
When Mrs. Gerrard Pennington was shown into the room of the Little RedChimney, there was nobody there. A chilly wind outside, which dashedthe rain against the windows, only served to call attention to thepleasantness within. It was indeed an aggressively cheerful room,entirely out of keeping with Mrs. Pennington's mood. The open piano,the row of thrifty ferns on the window-sill, the new novel on the tablewith a foreign letter between its leaves, and the work basket besideit--which, by the way, was of sweet grass--all sang the same song tothe accompaniment of the fire's quiet crackle.
The burden of the song was Margaret Elizabeth. You saw her sitting boltupright on the sofa, being very intense about something, or lost inthought, elbows on knees, on the ottoman beside the hearth, or occupiedwith that bit of embroidery, her curling lashes almost on her cheek. Oh,Margaret Elizabeth, how could you? How could you?
Mrs. Pennington, pacing uneasily back and forth, glanced at the music onthe piano rack.
"Oh, stay at home, my heart, and rest, Home-keeping hearts are happiest,"
it admonished her. In this disarming atmosphere she began to feelherself the victim of some wretched dream. Yet here in her bag wasMargaret Elizabeth's note, found awaiting her on her return from Chicagoan hour ago.
In it her niece apologised contritely for the inexcusable manner inwhich she had spoken, and continued: "It makes me unhappy, dearestAunt Eleanor, to think of disappointing you, for you have been thekindest aunt in the world, but I have discovered in the last fewdays what I ought to have known all along, that I cannot marry Mr.McAllister. The reason is there is some one else. He is neither richnor of distinguished family, but there are things that count for more,at least to me. I shall see you very soon, and explain more fully.In the meantime think kindly, if you can, of your niece,
MARGARET ELIZABETH."
MRS. GERRARD PENNINGTON]
This as it stood was bad enough, wrecking her dearest hopes at themoment when they had seemed most secure; but taken in connection witha story related in artless innocence by her travelling companion ofyesterday, Teddy Brown, to use one of that gentleman's cherishedphrases, it spelled tragedy.
The Reporter had not been bent on mischief. Far from it. He was merelygrappling bravely with the task of being agreeable to the great lady.Surely it was but natural that in the course of a long conversation theCandy Man's curious resemblance to Augustus should suggest itself as atopic; and given a gleam of something like interest in his companion'seyes, it was easy to continue from bad to worse.
He lived in the same apartment house as Virginia, and from her hehad heard of the Christmas tree, and the Candy Man's presence on theoccasion; also of that old accident on the corner in which the CandyMan had figured as Miss Bentley's rescuer. No wonder those intuitionsregarding a person who was not Augustus should have risen to tortureMrs. Pennington. All this circumstantial evidence was very black againstMargaret Elizabeth, seemingly so honest and frank. No wonder Mrs.Pennington was distraught.
Meanwhile, wherever her heart might be, Margaret Elizabeth herselfwas out. Uncle Bob, coming in, paper in hand, to greet the visitorcordially, could not imagine where she had gone, and peered around theroom as if after all she might have escaped their notice. If she wasn'tin, he was confident she would be, in the course of a few minutes, whichconfidence was not a logical deduction from known facts, but merely anuntrustworthy inference, born of his surprise at finding her out at all.
Placing a chair for Mrs. Pennington, he took one himself and regardedher genially. Some minutes of polite conversation followed, in thecourse of which Mrs. Pennington, concealing her agitation, spoke of herjourney to Chicago in quest of colonial furnishings. Mr. Vandegrift inhis turn brought forward Florida and orange groves.
But Margaret Elizabeth delayed her coming, and Mrs. Pennington couldstand it no longer. "Mr. Vandegrift," she began, after the silence thatfollowed the last word on oranges, "I regret that my niece is not here,yet it may be as well to speak to you first. I may say, to make anappeal to you. You are, I am sure, fond of Margaret Elizabeth." Sheplayed nervously with the fastening of her shopping bag.
Uncle Bob looked at her in surprise, then at the toe of his shoe. "Ithink I may safely admit it," he owned, crossing his knees and noddinghis head.
"Then, Mr. Vandegrift, I beseech you, with all the feeling of which I amcapable, to unite with me in saving this misguided girl." At this pointall her intuitions and fears rallied around Mrs. Pennington, and gave aquiver to her voice.
Uncle Bob was astonished at her tone, and said so.
"I assure you, Mr. Vandegrift, I have her own word for it." She produceda note from her bag.
"Her word for what?" he asked.
"Why, for--oh, Mr. Vandegrift, let us not waste time in futile fencing.You must know that Margaret Elizabeth has deceived me; has been guiltyof base ingratitude; has been meeting clandestinely a person--a mereadventurer. I can scarcely bring myself to say it. My brother Richard'sdaughter!" Mrs. Pennington had recourse to her handkerchief.
Uncle Bob uncrossed his knees and sat bolt upright. "Madame," heexclaimed, "I am sorry for your distress, whatever its cause, but let meassure you, you are under some grave mistake. My niece has met no oneclandestinely, and is incapable of deceit and treachery."
"Do I understand then that it was with your connivance?"
"I have connived at nothing, Madame, and I know of no adventurer." UncleBob took his penknife from his pocket and tapped on the table with it.His manner was legal in the extreme. He was enjoying himself.
Mrs. Pennington looked over her handkerchief. "But she says,herself----"
"Says she has been guilty of deceit and treachery? Has been meeting anadventurer clandestinely? Pardon me, but this is incredible."
"What is incredible, Uncle Bob?" came a voice from the half-open door,unmistakably that of the accused. "I'll be there as soon as I get off myraincoat," it added.
"It is hopeless to try to make you understand," Mrs. Pennington almostsobbed, the while sounds from the hall indicated that some one besideMargaret Elizabeth was removing a raincoat. A horrible dread suddenlysmote her, lest it be that person. A sleepless night and her distresshad unnerved her. She felt herself unequal to the encounter.
She glanced about helplessly for a way of escape, but there was none."Tell him not to come in. I cannot see him now," she begged tragicallyof Uncle Bob, who, honestly mystified now, stood between her and thedoor, looking from it to her.
"She says not to come in," he repeated to Margaret Elizabeth'scompanion, who was following her in.
"Why, Aunt Eleanor, I didn't know it was you! They told me your trainwas late. And oh, what is the matter? What are you crying about? Is itI?" Margaret Elizabeth, with raindrops on her hair, knelt beside heraunt and embraced her, pressing a cool cheek against that lady'sfevered one.
Mrs. Pennington, her face hidden in her hands, continued to murmur, "Icannot see him. I cannot see him."
"In the name of heaven, Eleanor, why can't you see me? Why must I notcome in?" demanded a familiar voice which brought her to with a shock.
"Gerrard!" she cried, in her surprise revealing a sadly tear-stainedcountenance.
Uncle Bob beat a retreat into the hall, where he paused, chuckling tohimself.
"Certainly it is I. Who should it be?" said her husband, taking a seatbeside her. "Why are you making such a sight of yourself, my dear? WhenI telephoned out to know if you had arrived, they said you had and hadgone out again immediately, no one knew where. I came out to talk oversome business with William Knight, and when I was leaving I saw your carover here, and thought I'd join you; but if my presence is unbearable,I will withdraw." Mr. Pennington smiled at Margaret Elizabeth.
"Don
't be silly, please, I have had a most trying day. I don't expectyou to understand."
Mrs. Pennington was recovering her poise. There was somethingirresistibly steadying in her husband's matter-of-fact statement, and inthe sight of her niece sitting back on her heels and looking up at herwith lovely, solicitous eyes. Treachery and deceit became meaninglessterms in such connection.
"You haven't given us a chance to understand, Eleanor. What is thetrouble?" Mr. Pennington demanded.
"Uncle Gerry, I am afraid it is I," said Margaret Elizabeth, picking upthe note from the floor where it had fallen. "I am sorry, you know I am,that I can't do as she wishes, but you understand that I can't. Tellher, please, that I did honestly try to think I could, but it wasn't ofany use."
"Oh, come now, Eleanor, if that is it, of course we wanted MargaretElizabeth up at the Park; but the young people of this generation liketo manage their own affairs, as we did before them." Mr. Penningtonlooked quizzically at his niece. "She's been getting up a bit ofmelodrama for our benefit, that's all. If you will pardon thesuggestion, my dear, I think possibly it is you who do not understand."
Margaret Elizabeth, rising from her lowly position, threw him a kissover her aunt's head.
"How can I be expected to, with everything shrouded in mystery?" criedMrs. Pennington. "Why have I never heard of this person before? Why wasI left to be told dreadful things by a reporter?"
"A reporter!" cried Margaret Elizabeth, in her turn aghast.
"Nonsense! If you heard anything dreadful you know Margaret Elizabethwell enough to know it was not true. But how in the world could areporter have got hold of it?"
"You speak so confidently, Gerrard, tell me, what do you know about thisman?" Mrs. Pennington looked from her niece to her husband. "MargaretElizabeth seems to have completely won you to her side," she added.
"It is really a very strange story, Eleanor, and to begin at the end ofit, we have quite sufficient evidence, in my opinion, to prove that heis the son of my old comrade, Robert Waite."
Mrs. Pennington fixed surprised eyes upon her husband. MargaretElizabeth sat down and folded her hands in her lap.
"You recall how Rob disappeared, without a word to any of his friends?It was not till some years after the general's death that I had theleast clue to it; then William Knight came to me to know if I couldgive any help in tracing him. He owned that there had been some troublebetween General Waite and Robert, and that the latter had been unjustlytreated. I couldn't give him any assistance, and I never discussed itwith him again. Knight was always close-mouthed, and it was only theother day that I learned what the trouble was. It seems the generalsuspected his nephew of taking a large sum of money from the safe in hislibrary. It was one of those cases of complete circumstantial evidence.Rob was known to have lost money on the races. He was the only onebeside the general himself who had access to the safe, and who knew thatthis money, several thousand dollars, was there at this time. That is,so it was supposed.
"Knowing them both, one can easily understand the outcome. Robertdisappeared, and a few years later, when the general died, he left hisfortune to William Knight, his wife's nephew. Then after some littletime the real thief turned up. I won't go into that, further than tosay that it was through a deathbed confession to a priest. Since thenKnight has been searching far and wide for some trace of Robert, onlyto receive last week the evidence of his death twenty-five years ago.And now comes the strange part of the story. The very day on whichhe received this news, Knight came by chance upon a book which herecognised as once the property of Robert Waite. The owner's name wascut from the fly leaf, but below it was written the name of a youngman whose acquaintance he had made last winter, Robert Deane Reynolds.Deane was Rob's middle name, so naturally it led to an investigation."
Mr. Pennington looked over at Margaret Elizabeth. "Have I told astraight story?" he asked.
"There were letters, you know," she prompted.
"Oh, yes. This young man had letters which I could have identifiedanywhere."
Mrs. Pennington was interested. She asked questions. That absurd storyabout a Candy Wagon was untrue then? But how had Margaret Elizabeth metthis person? She still referred to him as a person. And somehow theunited efforts of Margaret Elizabeth and Mr. Pennington failed to clearup the mystery, though they did their best.
Even if the Candy Wagon episode was to be regarded as humorous, thoughit did not present itself in that light to Mrs. Pennington, how couldMargaret Elizabeth have asked a Candy Man to her Christmas tree?
"But you see, by that time I knew he wasn't real, Aunt Eleanor, andanyway--"
"Now go slow, Margaret Elizabeth," cautioned her uncle. "At heart youare a confounded little socialist, but take my advice and keep it toyourself." He was thinking of what she had said to him only the daybefore: "You see, Uncle Gerry, you can't have everything. You haveto choose. And while I like bigness and richness, I like Little RedChimneys and what they stand for, best. I want to be on speaking termswith both ends, you see."
"It is odd," Mr. Pennington went on, "the tricks heredity plays, andthat this young man and Augustus McAllister should both hark back to acommon ancestor for their general characteristics of build and feature.I was struck with the resemblance, myself."
"It was what first attracted me," owned Margaret Elizabeth demurely.
The name of Augustus still had painful associations for Mrs. Pennington.She rose. "Really we must be going," she said. At some future time shefelt she might be able to meet Mr. Reynolds or Waite, or whatever hisname was, with equanimity, but now she was thankful to hear he had goneback to Chicago for some papers.
She received Margaret Elizabeth's farewell embrace languidly. "Sincethere is such weight of authority in your favour, and matters havedeveloped so strangely, there is nothing for me to say. I dislikemystery, and prefer to have things go on regularly and according toprecedent. It is your welfare I have at heart."
Mr. Pennington's good-by was different.
"I don't wonder you like it down here, Margaret Elizabeth--this room,you know," he said.
As they drove homeward Mrs. Pennington was engaged in mentallyreconstructing affairs. "Of course," she heard herself saying, "it wasa disappointment to me, but romantic girls are not to be controlled bycommon-sense aunts, and really it might be worse." And she remarkedaloud: "The fact that he is a nephew of General Waite means something."
"That's so," assented her husband. "Something like half a million.Old Knight is determined to hand it all over." He smiled to himself,then added: "He came to see me--the young man, I mean. I liked him.He suggested Rob a little without resembling him. Very gentlemanly;nice eyes."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
_In which the Fairy Godmother Society is again mentioned, among otherthings_.
"But it is really embarrassing when I had made up my mind to marry apoor Candy Man to have it turn out so. I rather liked defying commonsense," said Margaret Elizabeth.
The Candy Man had made a hurried journey to Chicago, and was back beforethe rain was over, and while it was still cold enough for a fire, sothat his old dream of sometime sitting by the Little Red Chimney'shearth was coming true. Margaret Elizabeth in the blue dress, byrequest, though she declared it wasn't fit to be seen, occupied theottoman, her elbows on her knees, the firelight playing in her brighthair.
"It is the way it happens in fairy-tales," urged the Candy Man. "And Ireally couldn't help it."
"Of course you are right," she agreed. "As Virginia's story runs, 'Heturned into a prince, and because Violetta had been true to him throughthick and thin, he made her a princess.' Anyhow, Candy Man, I'm glad Ichose you before your good fortune came."
"It was an extremely venturesome thing to do, Girl of All Others, asI have told you before, though immensely flattering to me. I have totake the money, there is no way out of it. I believe it would break ourMiser's heart if I refused. Do you know what he was proposing to dobefore he found the book?"
"What?" asked Margaret Elizabeth.
<
br /> "To adopt me. You see we had come to be pretty good friends lastwinter, and I think he suspected from the start that I had rather loftyaspirations for a Candy Man. In a Little Red Chimney direction--youunderstand?"
"Perfectly--go on."
"Well, he saw us in the park----"
"And his suspicions were confirmed, I suppose," put in MargaretElizabeth, coolly.
"Exactly. And knowing from what I had told him previously that I hadmy fortune to seek, it occurred to him that as the channel he had beenhoping for had been closed, the next best thing would be to make itpossible for two young persons to----"
"The dear old Miser!" interrupted Margaret Elizabeth. "But why is he sounwilling to use the money himself? It is honestly his."
"I may not fully understand, but I think from things he has said, thatas a boy he was jealous of my father. This feeling would naturally makehim, when it came to the test, not unwilling to believe in his guilt.Then, being reticent and introspective, he magnified all this athousandfold when the truth came out, and he realised he had profited bythe unjust suspicion. By dwelling upon it he came to feel as if he hadactually obtained the money himself by unfair means. But I am convincedthat if he did encourage his uncle to believe in my father's guilt, itwas because he firmly believed it himself. Never since the facts wereknown has he regarded the money as his, and not until he had almostexhausted his own means in the effort to trace the rightful owner, ashe regarded him, did he use a penny of it."
"It is so touching to see his surprise and gratitude that I do not feelresentful toward him," added the Candy Man. "His joy at handing overthis fortune is wonderful. He already looks a different man."
"We must make it up to him in some way," said Margaret Elizabeth. "Imean for all these lonely years. Speaking of money, I'll tell you whatI have been thinking. When we build our house, as I suppose we shallsome day, when we come back from our search for the Archaeologist----"
"By all means. That is one mitigating circumstance. We can build ahouse," responded the Candy Man.
"Well, as I was going to say, we must have a Little Red Chimney. Thehouse will be broad and low," she extended her arms, "and with wings;I love wings. One of them shall have a Little Red Chimney all its own.It shall stand for our ideals. If we should be tempted to a sort of lifethat separates us from our fellows, it will remind us, you, that youonce sat in a Candy Wagon, me, that I fell in love with a Candy Man. AndI'll tell you what, speaking of the Miser. Don't you remember? It was heyou meant that day when we were talking about the Fairy GodmotherSociety, and----"
Of course the Candy Man remembered.
"Then, let's organise and make him chief agent while we are gone. I knowof a number of things to be done."
"So do I," said the Candy Man. "There is my fellow lodger, the one Itold you about, a teacher in the High School. He needs a real changethis summer, he and his wife."
"Oh, I am sure we can work it out," cried Margaret Elizabeth.
"I am sure we can," he assented.
"You see it will begin where organised charity leaves off, of necessity.Also where that can't possibly penetrate, and it will be singularlyfree, because secret."
"Again you sound like the minutes of the first meeting," said the CandyMan.
"Margaret Elizabeth!"
It was Uncle Bob's voice at the door. "I hate to disturb you, but thatold bore at the club wants your father's address."
"You aren't disturbing. Come in and hear about the Fairy GodmotherSociety."
"You don't mean really?" Uncle Bob stood before the hearth and lookedfrom his niece to the Candy Man.
"Indeed we do," she answered. "You see we have ten times as much moneyas we thought we had. So why not?"
"Quite correct, as we thought we hadn't any," murmured the Candy Man.
Uncle Bob rubbed his hands in delight. "I told Prue you'd do somethingof the sort; that you wouldn't just settle down to be ordinary richpeople. But Prue says riches bring caution."
Margaret Elizabeth, going to her desk for the address, laughed. "Wearen't going to forget our humble beginning," she said; "and we'll actquickly before we are inured to our new estate."
"But then, you know, there is another side to it," her uncle interposed,in a sudden access of prudence. "You must consider the matter carefullywith an eye to the future. For instance now, there may be heirs."
A silence fell. The fire crackled, and the clock ticked with unusualdistinctness. Then Margaret Elizabeth spoke.
"Here's the address," she said. "I'll put it in your pocket, where youcan't forget it." And as she tucked it in, she added, stoutly, with alovely deepening of the colour in her cheek: "If there are, Uncle Bob,they will be fairy god-brothers and sisters, so it will be all right."
It was after the door had closed upon Uncle Bob, and Margaret Elizabethwas back on her low seat again, that the Candy Man left his chair andsat on the rug beside her. "Girl of All Others, is there any one elsein the world as happy as I?" he asked.
Margaret Elizabeth smiled at him with eyes that answered the questionbefore she spoke. Then she said, slipping her hand into his, "Oneother."
THE END
The Little Red Chimney: Being the Love Story of a Candy Man Page 15