Happiness Hill

by Grace Livingston Hill

  John Sherwood was back at his desk when she returned from lunch. She spent a few minutes explaining some of his puzzlements to him and was rewarded with another of his pleasant smiles. There was nothing fresh about this new boy, she decided. He had the utmost deference for anything she told him and would keep jumping up because she happened to be standing, showing that he had been trained in courtesy. “A nice boy.” she said again as she went back to her desk feeling very ancient and responsible.

  The work was not heavy because it was still the summer season and Miss Forsythe had kept everything up to the mark to the last minute. Jane’s own desk work had been distributed between two or three competent workers and was to remain there during the absence of Miss Forsythe, so by half past four she was through. She stepped over to John Sherwood’s desk and helped him a few minutes with some of the afternoon routine, which must be finished before the next morning, and when that was done she was about to turn away, saying, “Well, good night. I must hurry to get the next trolley. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night,” he said, lifting those pleasant gray eyes to search her face. “I’m very grateful for your guidance today. I wish I might return your help somehow. Do—you live far—from here? Couldn’t I drive you home? Wouldn’t it be a little cooler than riding in the trolley? But I only drive a little flivver—perhaps you don’t care for riding in a flivver?”

  There was something almost shy and wistful about the way he proffered his attention that warmed Jane’s heart. She was not apt to accept attentions from strange young business associates, but this boy was so nice and unspoiled, why shouldn’t she? And it would be cooler than the trolley. She dreaded walking the hot sidewalks to the subway station.

  “Why, thank you.” She smiled. “I’d love to ride if it isn’t too much out of your way. I think flivvers are fine. My brother has an old secondhand one that does a lot of service.”

  “I’ll be out at the front entrance in five minutes,” said the young man, looking at his watch.

  She watched his brisk movements as he locked his desk and went to the closet for his hat, a plain cheap straw. He must be lonesome—or maybe he was just grateful. Well, anyway, she would probably save a few minutes of her precious time by letting him take her home, even though traffic would be bad at this hour. So she locked her own desk, put on her hat, and took her leisurely way down to the front entrance. It occurred to her to wonder what her mountain friends would think of her if they could see her now in her plain dark blue office garb about to ride home with a fellow workman in a flivver that was probably third-or fourth-or even fifth-hand.

  But she had little time to muse, for John Sherwood was driving up to the curb as she came out the door, and she was surprised to see that the flivver was utterly new, in bright shining paint.

  He sprang out to help her in, and as he took his place beside her, she sensed again how courteous he was, not like an ordinary green clerk in an office. Any one of the office boys would have been as kind to her, but there would have been a more informal camaraderie. They might know their manners when they went out to a party, but they were not overburdened with them for everyday use in the office. This young man was a gentleman, to the manor born.

  “Now, which way?” he asked pleasantly.

  “Oh,” said Jane, “I have been thinking. I really can’t let you take me all the way home. It is a long ride. I should have told you. It’s a way out in the west part of the city. If you will just take me to the Sixty-Ninth Street Station where I usually have to change trolleys, I shall be quite all right and deeply grateful.”

  “I like a long ride,” asserted John Sherwood stubbornly, “and now that I have you in the car, I’m not letting you out till I get you to your own door. I noticed you didn’t let me out at any halfway station during the day. You stayed by and made it dead easy for me to fit into my new job, and I’m everlastingly grateful to you.”

  Jane smiled, his tone was so genuine.

  “That’s different!” she said. “I’m paid for that, you know. You don’t have to be grateful to me.”

  “Well, I am!” he declared doggedly. “You can’t pay anyone for the kind of service you’ve given me today. You’ve been a friend, and I’m going to be grateful no matter what you say. Now, again, which way do we go? Remember, I’m an utter stranger in this city, only don’t go to pulling any tricks about getting off anywhere to another trolley. I’m taking you home!”

  Laughingly she guided him through the maze of traffic, to the right, to the left, straight ahead, and then settled back to enjoy her ride.

  “This flivver reminds me of Tom’s” she said, as she rested her weight back on the new upholstery, “because as my brother would say, ‘It’s so different.’”

  He turned and smiled into her eyes, a twinkle in his gray ones that reminded her again, vaguely, of someone.

  “It is a nice little buggy, isn’t it?” he said appreciatively. “They tell me it has just as good shock absorbers this year as some of the better makes. I hope you’ll like it enough to let me take you home in it often. That is, if I make good and hold down my job.”

  “You’ll make good!” said Jane quickly. “You have it in you. I could see that right at once.”

  “Thanks for the kind words!” said the young man gravely and again flashed that merry twinkle at her. “But you didn’t say whether you would accept my invitation.”

  “I am afraid I shall be tempted to impose upon you,” said Jane, warming more and more to his pleasant companionship and feeling quite at home with him.

  “Try it and see,” said the young man with a merry twinkle. “By the way, there’s something I’d like to ask you. Who is this man Minnick who has the desk next to mine?”

  “He’s a crab!” said Jane quickly. “Nobody likes him. Has he begun on you already?”

  “Well, he pretty well tried to tell me where to get off this morning,” said Sherwood thoughtfully. “I was wondering just what position he occupies here. Is he a sort of a mentor or anything? He doesn’t seem to have any indication about his desk of that sort, just his name like every other desk, and nobody told me that I was answerable to him. I thought I’d better ask before I did anything rash.”

  Jane laughed. “Don’t worry about him. He’s only a self- constituted mentor so far as I know, but he exercises his powers on everybody in the place. The only person I know who has anything to do with him is the young Dulaney, Harold, the one who is in Europe now. He chums with him a lot. Everybody thinks Minnick is trying to get in with Harold Dulaney in order to have pull for a higher position.”

  “Dulaney!” said Sherwood, looking at her with eyes that seemed almost startled. “You don’t say! Well, thank you for tipping me off. I shouldn’t like to lose my job by telling this Minnick what I thought of him. It wouldn’t be worth it.”

  “Oh, it’s not as serious as that,” laughed Jane. “Harold Dulaney isn’t the other partner, you know. He’s only a sort of nephew, the son of a distant cousin, I believe. The other partner is Richard Dulaney, an old man, quite an invalid, and really retired, a sort of a silent partner. Harold is acting in his place perhaps. I don’t know, but I don’t think he has any actual power yet, so you needn’t worry about Minnick. Personally, I don’t believe Harold Dulaney will ever get to be a partner, there isn’t enough to him, and Mr. Jefferson Dulaney is pretty keen. He won’t take in a stick just because he bears the same name.”

  As they turned into Flora Street, at last it suddenly came to Jane what a nice, free, and easy chat they had been having, just like old friends, and she wondered with a qualm whether she would have been able to enjoy a ride like that with Lew Lauderdale. Suddenly the sordidness of Flora Street struck her, as it often did on coming home, and she realized that she would have been mortified to bring a man like Lauderdale here, but she did not mind this nice boy. He was probably poor like herself, and boarded downtown in one of those stuffy little boardinghouses that have a VACANCIES sign in the window and smell o
f fried potatoes and onions. Flora Street wouldn’t be a letdown for him, even though he was well-mannered.

  She thanked him warmly as they drew up at the door.

  “But the pleasure is all mine,” he said earnestly. “You know I haven’t any friends in the city, and I am going to get frightfully lonely. It’s all right during the day when I can be busy, but the evenings are interminably long. Last night was the longest one I ever spent.”

  “You’ll soon get acquainted,” said Jane as he helped her out. “There’ll be plenty of people who will love to ride with you.”

  “Oh, but I’m particular about my companions,” said the boy unexpectedly. “Is that your little sister? What a charming child! What gorgeous hair. She has eyes like yours.”

  “That’s Betty Lou,” said Jane in a pleased tone. “She’s a darling. She always rushes out to meet me.”

  “Betty Lou! That’s a pretty name. Well, sometime can’t we take Betty Lou riding? This seat is supposed to hold three.”

  “Why that would be lovely! Betty Lou would adore it. Sometime perhaps.”

  “Well, good night,” said the young man wistfully, as Jane turned toward the house, “I’ve enjoyed knowing you today.”

  Jane stood a moment watching as he drove away, haunted again by the twinkle in the gray eyes. Where had she seen a man with eyes like those?

  “Who was that nice man?” asked Betty Lou, slipping down to meet her sister and looking after the flivver, which was turning around at the end of the street. “He smiled at me!”

  “He is a new man in the office, Bettikins,” said her sister, stopping to kiss the soft cheek and thinking that Betty Lou needed the seashore as much as anybody in the family. Betty Lou’s cheeks were thin and white, and there were blue veins showing in her temples where the gold of her curls tossed back and deep blue shadows under the sweet eyes. A little girl ought to be round and rosy, and Betty Lou was getting very thin and frail looking. A pang shot through Jane again to think how much money she had spent on herself this summer and none on dear little Betty Lou. Why had she thought she could? She remembered the cold words of Lew Lauderdale about families being a drag on a girl, and she drew her arm a little closer around precious Betty Lou. Please, God, she had her eyes open now. It should never happen again that she spent money all on Jane and none on Betty Lou.

  The flivver was coming back again.

  “What’s his name, Jinny?” whispered Betty Lou, cuddling closer to her sister and smiling shyly. “He’s smiling again. I like him.”

  “John Sherwood. He has a nice smile, doesn’t he? And Betty Lou, he said he was coming to take you and me for a ride someday. Will you like that?”

  Betty Lou’s face wreathed in smiles, and she waved a little white hand as John Sherwood waved his hand at her and then lifted his hat toward Jane.

  The sisters watched the flivver till it turned the corner, and then they went into the house, Betty Lou rushing to get the picture of the cottage.

  “The man says you can get a whole lot of clams for twenty cents!” she announced. “And fresh fish every morning right out of the ocean! Isn’t it going to be wonderful?”

  Jane’s eyes sparkled. The cottage of course wasn’t much more than a little shanty, but what could one expect for twenty-five dollars? There was the sea in the background with great waves pounding over a broad lonely beach. No crowds of people and festivities, just beach and water and a white sail flitting in the distance, with a tall lighthouse off to the right.

  “Now,” said Jane after she had kissed her mother and taken off her hat, “what do we do for supper?”

  “Nothing,” said Betty Lou proudly. “It’s all ready. I just finished setting the table. I fixed a tomato surprise and it’s in the refrigerator. There are potatoes roasting in the oven, and Tom brought home a lovely little beefsteak out of his own money. He said we’d have to have something nice for you the first night or you would be missing that mountain hotel.”

  Jane’s eyes softened. “Where is Tom?” she asked, looking around. “Has he left you alone much today?”

  “No, only while he went to the hospital, and he brought Mother a pink rosebud. See, it’s in the crystal vase on the table beside her. Isn’t it lovely? Mother loved it. He got the steak partly for Mother. The doctor said she might have a little teeny bit of it, that it would strengthen her. He said to bake the potatoes, too, so she could have one. Tom has gone to get a loaf of bread. He got the trunk down out of the attic and packed it full of things Mother told him to. Blankets and sheets and tablecloths and some knives and forks and a few kitchen things. You’d be surprised how many things we got in.”

  “You dear child!” said Jane. “You’ve had to work so hard!”

  “Oh no, I haven’t. I’ve had fun doing it. Tom is taking the trunk down to the freight station in the morning, when he takes you to the office. He said it was too hot for you to go on the trolley, and he’s going to send the trunk ahead of us, so it will be there when we arrive. He’s got it roped on the back of his car now.”

  “What a fine idea! Well, I don’t believe you’ve left much for me to do.” Jane laughed.

  “Oh yes, there is. Mother told me a lot of things she wanted you to see to. Father’s shirts, and buying him a new dressing gown, a warm one, and his overcoat has to have a patch on the lining. Mother wanted to do it, but I hid the coat so she couldn’t. And then Mother said you had to get all our clothes together and be sure we had enough of everything for everybody. And—oh yes, something for bathing suits!”

  “Surely, surely,” said Jane, her own eyes catching the sparkle of enthusiasm that shone in the little girl’s eyes.

  Tom came noisily in with the bread. “The doc at the hospital says if Dad has a good night tonight he thinks he’ll be okay to take the trip by Saturday,” he announced importantly. “I been thinking. I wonder if I couldn’t borrow a better car. It’s going to be crowded in the old carriage for two invalids and all the junk we have to cart along.”

  “Oh no, don’t borrow a car, Tom,” said Jane anxiously. “Something might happen to it. I’m sure we can get along somehow. If worse comes to worst, some of us can go on the train.”

  “Who, I’d like to ask you? I couldn’t for I’d have to drive. I wouldn’t trust you driving all that distance, you’re only just an amateur.”

  “Well, I could go in the train,” said Jane thoughtfully.

  “Oh, that would spoil all the fun, Jinny, not to have you along!” protested Betty Lou dejectedly.

  “Well now, don’t worry about that,” said Jane. “We’ll fix it somehow. We’re not going to worry about a trifle like that. Come, let’s have supper. I’m hungry as a bear. Then afterward we’ll get to packing.”

  All hands helped to put the dinner on the table, and Jane brought her mother’s tray with her own hands, fixing things so Mother could eat while they were eating. She and Tom pulled the couch out till Mother could get a glimpse of the dining table, so they were all together—all but Father. Jane’s heart felt a warm glow at the thought that things were straightening out again, a thrill of thanksgiving as she sat down to her own supper, that the horror and fear that had clutched her heart twenty-four hours before had been averted.

  Even while they were eating, there came a message from the hospital that Mr. Arleth wanted his family to know that he felt very decidedly better tonight and would be coming home soon. That was good news and made everybody happy.

  “How good this beefsteak is!” said Betty Lou. “I haven’t wanted to eat anything all this week, it was so hot.”

  “It’s just as hot tonight kid,” said her brother, grinning at her. “You’ll have to get a better reason for your hunger than that.”

  “It’s the beefsteak!” said Jane. “She hasn’t been half getting her meals, the last two days especially, she has had so much to do.”

  “It’s Mother being better and Father being better and Jane’s being home again!” said Betty Lou between bites. “It’s everything! Ev
erything is lovely. To think we are really going to a seashore!”

  “Dear little girl!” said Jane with compunction. “If I had only found this place before and taken you all to it instead of going to that old mountain hotel! I shall never forgive myself!”

  “Now, Jinny dear!” said the little girl, dropping her fork and looking as though she were going to cry, “Jinny, don’t say that! That just spoils it all. I wouldn’t have missed hearing all about that grand place, not for anything. No, not for all the heat and everything. It was just wonderful! I’m only sorry you couldn’t have done the last week and told us about the trip up the mountain and who won the tennis match and everything!”

  “You dear child! Getting so much pleasure out of other people’s fun! Well, I hope you’ll have some of your very own next week. Oh, we’re going to have grand times together, think—all of us! Father and Mother and Tom and you and I. We’ll all be children together! And that reminds me! I brought you home a bathing suit, scarlet and white! It’s the prettiest little thing, and I’m sure it will fit you. Carol’s mother bought it for Carol’s little sister, but it was much too large, and so Carol asked me if I thought it would fit you. I’ve been so full of other things I forgot to tell you about it. It has a darling little cap to go with it, and sandals. You’ll love it!”