Brentwood

by Grace Livingston Hill

  Quickly, he drove to the spot to see if anyone was hurt. He stopped his car and listened. He heard a man talking, but there seemed to be no girl. He was about to drive on, when suddenly he saw a stealthy form like a shadow slip out the passenger door of the car and topple up the street in the shadow of the houses.

  He started his car slowly again and followed, watching. It was a woman! Was there something familiar about the way she walked? No, she was almost staggering. She must be drunk! And yet—maybe it was someone in distress. He drove his car slowly and followed for another block.

  And now Betty was aware of a car and tried to hurry faster. Blindly she ran, then caught her toe in a brick of the pavement and fell prostrate.

  For a minute the breath was knocked from her body so that she thought she was dying, and then she felt someone lift her, and she froze with horror again. Had Ellery run after her and caught her? Oh, she wished that she had died! Rather anything than to be in his power again.

  The doctor lifted her very tenderly and looked into her face, gently lifted one of her eyelids, and in the flare of a street light, Betty suddenly recognized him.

  “Oh, Doctor, Doctor, you won’t tell Mother, will you?” she gasped. “It would kill Mother to know I had done this!” And suddenly she burst into a flood of tears and buried her face in the breast of the doctor’s big fur-lined coat.

  “Betty! It is you, dear child!” The doctor’s voice was very tender, and he held her close in his arms an instant, looking quickly up and down the street. Not a soul in sight that minute, but a car was coming around the second corner above.

  He quickly strode with her in his arms to his car and put her in, shutting the door quickly and hurrying around to get in himself and start the car. He rounded the next corner and drove straight ahead for several blocks. Then he stopped in a quiet street and, reaching out, drew the still sobbing Betty closer to him, putting her head down on his shoulder comfortably.

  “You won’t tell Mother!” pleaded Betty between the sobs.

  “No, of course not, dear child! Now tell me all about it!”

  “Oh—I went out—with a young man from the office. I thought he was all right—he was going to take me to a nightclub!” Betty was talking very fast, trying to get her breath and tell a coherent story, but her sobs interrupted her.

  “He took me—to a dreadful place! It was awful! Everybody was drunk! I was frightened. I made him bring me home. But I found he was drunk, too! He wouldn’t stop—and let me out!”

  She gave way in another burst of tears, and he put both arms about her and held her close again, as if he were comforting a child.

  “Oh, I’m so—so—glad you came! I thought he was—chasing—me!”

  Keith Sheridan’s face suddenly went white, and his lips touched for an instant the hot, wet lashes that lay on the wet cheeks.

  “And so am I glad!” he whispered.

  Then suddenly he drew his handkerchief from his inside pocket and softly patted her face dry from the tears.

  “There,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice, “now let’s get going! The sooner we get home, the less for anybody to worry about. No, of course we won’t tell Mother. Now, put your head down on my shoulder and rest and forget it. It’s going to be all right. I’d like to get out and whale that friend of yours, but I guess I’d better confine my efforts to getting you home. If he’s only drunk, he can look after himself. I heard him talking to the signpost as I came by. Now, cheer up, little girl, and don’t try to talk about it. I’ll fix things up at home for you. Straighten up your face and put on a grin and we’ll face ’em out. Ready? Here we are at Aster Street!”

  He helped her out most tenderly and went up the steps with her.

  The door opened at once, and a much-scared Ted stood behind it, white with anxiety. Marjorie, in a dark robe, stood just behind him, and their relief when they saw the doctor was almost amusing.

  “I brought her home. I hope you didn’t worry,” the doctor said. “She preferred my company to the fellow she started out with, and the pleasure was all mine. I hope I haven’t worried you by keeping her out so long. I’ll promise never to do so again. But she’s been a little worried, and I guess you’d better put her right to bed and not ask her questions tonight. She’s pretty tired.”

  “Okay!” said Ted gravely, his face relaxing from its anxious strain. And Marjorie put her arm around her sister and led her upstairs softly. The father and mother were sound asleep with the door shut and hadn’t heard a thing.

  Betty closed the door softly, faced around toward her sister, and spoke in a low, shamed tone. “Marjorie, I’ve got to tell you that you were right, and I’m ashamed! I don’t know whether it was a regular nightclub I went to or not, but even if it wasn’t, even if nightclubs are a great deal different from that one, I never want to see one as long as I live! And I never want to see Ellery Aiken again, either! I’m cured! And I want you to forgive me for the way I went away and left you, and for the hateful things I said to you.”

  Marjorie put her arms around her sister and kissed her lovingly.

  “You precious sister! There isn’t anything to forgive. I’m only so thankful you are safe home again. Now, don’t think another thing about it tonight. Get to sleep as soon as you can.”

  Chapter 20

  They were just sitting down to breakfast the next morning when a messenger came to the front door with a special delivery for Mr. Gay.

  His hand trembled as he took the letter, which Betty handed him, and the family were utterly still while he opened it. He couldn’t understand who would be writing him an emergency letter unless those sharks who took his house away from him before were trying to work some trick again. Marjorie noticed that he was deadly white as he pulled the letter out of its envelope.

  Then, as he read, a new look dawned on his face. A look of self-respect in place of the dejection that had been making the corners of his mouth droop habitually.

  At last he laid the letter down on the table and looked at them all, and they saw a light in his eyes, and then the light grew till it spread over his whole face.

  “Read it, Mother,” he said, his voice husky with feeling as he handed the letter over to his wife. “Read it aloud!” and there was a ring of triumph and relief in his voice.

  The letterhead was of a well-known and respected firm in the city.

  Mr. John Gay

  1465 Aster Street

  City

  My dear Mr. Gay:

  Having known of your connection with the former firm of Hamilton, McIvor and Company, and being in need of the right man to head our accounting department, we are writing to know whether you are at present open for a position, and whether you would like to come to our office any time this week between the hours of two-thirty and four to talk over our suggestions?

  Hoping to hear from you at your earliest convenience,

  Very truly yours,

  Martin Heath & Company

  Mr. Gay’s face was a study in deepening joy as he listened to his wife pronounce the words he had just read, scarcely crediting the evidence of his own eyes and ears.

  “Oh! John!” His wife beamed at him, a look such as she must have given him on her wedding day, a look so full of trust and triumph that at last his ability had received recognition.

  “Oh, Father!” said Betty, her face all shining with relief and happiness.

  Marjorie realized that she hadn’t understood till then how terrible it had been for her father, and also for the others, to have the beloved father out of a job. Her own heart was throbbing with gladness, too. But she mustn’t let them see how relieved she was, how thankful to the two lawyers who had helped bring this about!

  In due time the letter was passed to her to read and she rejoiced with the others, noting secretly how tactfully the letter was written, so as not to humiliate him as a man who was out of work, but bidding him to a place of honor, as one who had been accustomed to that place with others. It couldn’t have been bett
er. Sometime she would hunt up that lawyer, Mr. Bryant, and thank him for his tact and skill in performing so perfectly such a delicate task.

  “And now,” said the mother, when they had all got their breath again after their excitement, “you certainly will have to go downtown this morning the first thing and get yourself some new clothes. You simply can’t present yourself the way you are. And now that you have the prospect of a position, it needn’t hurt your pride any longer.”

  Mr. Gay turned happy eyes on his eager wife.

  “But you must remember, my dear, that I haven’t got the position yet. Just getting a bid to come and talk about it may not mean a thing in the world. They may have seventeen others doing the same thing.”

  “That’s all right, Father,” spoke up Marjorie eagerly, “but you won’t stand as much chance shabby as you would if you were neatly dressed. Now, please, dear Father, use that check I gave you the other day. Use it now, this morning. If it makes you feel any better, you can pay me back the day you get to be a millionaire!”

  “Fat chance!” said Ted, coming in the back door hungry as a bear, from his paper route.

  They all laughed and then they had to tell Ted and talk it all over again, till Betty roused to the toast and coffee and scrambled eggs that were getting cold and they all began to eat. Mr. Gay ate hastily, seeming to enjoy every mouthful, and rose before the rest were through.

  “Now, if you will excuse me,” he said, “I’ll run down to the city and get those new clothes that you all insist upon, and then I’m going right over to Martin Heath’s. I’m not letting any grass grow under my feet—I mean snow.”

  “Get something ready-made, John,” advised his wife, “and put it on at the store. You can send your old things up. Don’t think of going without decent clothes.”

  “That’s what I’m going to do,” said Mr. Gay briskly, grinning at them all as he left the room and went upstairs.

  When Mr. Gay had left for the city and Ted had gone on his busy way, the house was tense with excitement.

  “How are we ever to get through the day till he gets back?” said Betty, dropping down in a chair and gripping her hands together tightly till the knuckles showed white.

  “Oh,” said Marjorie quickly, “we have a lot to do! Mother is going to spend the morning writing out a list of things that need to be bought for the children right away, with full directions. And then she’s to write another list of things that must be done or bought before we move. I don’t believe she ought to do much shopping herself, do you? In these days when things can be returned if they are not satisfactory, you and I surely can buy what she wants.

  “And while you are doing that, Mother, Betty and I are going to run out to Brentwood and look things over,” went on Marjorie. “I want to see that plumber I had Ted send there to give an estimate for making everything shipshape and ready for immediate use. The man from the gas company will be there this morning, too. I telephoned yesterday. And a man to put in the telephone. Do you think you would mind being here with the children for a couple of hours? We thought we would take Bud with us. Then you won’t have so much confusion.”

  Betty’s face was bright with joy, and Bud shouted, “Oh, boy! I’m going back ta Brentwood!”

  Mrs. Gay smiled her willingness.

  “Only, dear, I don’t think you ought to plan those things for us now when you’re going to Chicago so soon. I’m getting much better and will be able to look after things myself pretty soon.”

  “So you shall, Mother, but I’m having the time of my life spending money just now, and if I left it all to you, you wouldn’t spend any, you dear!” So Marjorie kissed her mother, and she and Betty and Bud went joyously on their way.

  Such a happy morning they had! Betty stood in what had once been her own room at Brentwood and looked about like one who had been shut out of heaven for a long time and had just got back again!

  “To think that your coming meant this, too, as well as yourself!” she exclaimed. “But say, Mother wanted me to find out which room you liked the best. She thought maybe you and I would like these connecting ones! That is—but I forgot—I mean, in case you don’t decide to stay in Chicago!”

  Betty’s face was still sober.

  “But—Mother says you might get married, you know!”

  “Well, not at present, sister mine, anyway!” laughed Marjorie.

  “Oh, but you can’t tell what might happen to change your mind!”

  “Yes,” put in Bud, who had strayed into the room where they stood, “if that big mutt that sent you those pair-of-sites should ask you, you can’t tell what you’ll do!”

  “Buddie! What would Mother say if she heard you talk like that?”

  “Well, I don’t care; he is a mutt! I heard Ted say so!” defended Bud. “Say, Betty, would there be any reason why I couldn’t set up my ’lectric train in the attic here? That would make a swell place, and I could add to it by and by and everything.”

  “Grand!” said Marjorie. “Let’s go look!”

  So the subject of “pair-of-sites” was dropped.

  “After you’re gone to Chicago, Marjorie,” said Betty as they stood taking a last look around before they started home, “I’m going to get Ted to make a fire in the heater, and I’m coming up here with Bud everyday and scrub floors and wash windows.”

  “That’s too much work for you, Betty, with all you have to do at home,” said Marjorie. “I told Ted to look up a professional housecleaning firm, and we’ll have them clean the whole place. But I was thinking perhaps you ought to come up every day and see that they are doing it right. You and Ted could come and be sure every spot was being cared for just right.”

  “That would be great. But why waste money on housecleaning? If I can do anything, I can do that.”

  “You would just get sick, dear. It is a very large house. And besides, for the present, you have all the housework on Aster Street till Mother is perfectly well and can help. I aim to put the house in your hands ready for use. Then you’ll find plenty of cleaning after that!”

  “You’re simply swell!” said Betty with a sigh of relief. “Will I ever get rich so I can do things for you?”

  “Perhaps,” smiled Marjorie, “but what difference does it make? We’ll have a good time anyway!”

  When they got back they found their mother had the lists all ready.

  “Tomorrow we’ll go shopping!” said Marjorie.

  There had been no word as yet from Mr. Gay, and of course the strain was still on. The wife went quietly on saying nothing about it, but they were all thinking of him.

  “We gotta telephone already, up ta Brentwood,” remarked Bud. “If we was up there now he could telephone and let us know what happened sooner.”

  “Well, we aren’t,” said his mother with a smile, “but it is going to be nice to have a telephone again, although, dear, we could easily have gotten along without that.”

  Marjorie smiled.

  “I shouldn’t be happy about you a minute, Mother dear, unless there was a telephone. I only wish we had one here while I’m gone. Then it wouldn’t be so bad to leave you alone. That was one reason why I wanted you to move at once. But I guess it is better to wait till I get back.”

  “Yes, dear—if you come back!”

  “I’m coming back!” said Marjorie, with firmly set lips and a little twinkle of a smile. “And now, Mother, there’s something I need your advice about. Will you promise to tell me honestly what you think I ought to do about something in Chicago?”

  The mother gave her a quick, startled look. Was this to be about the aristocratic, insolent young man who came on Christmas Day?

  “It’s about my furniture, Mother,” went on Marjorie. “The Wetherill furniture! The lawyer said he had a good offer for the house, and if I sell it, as I probably shall—for anyhow, whatever I did, I couldn’t live in a great barracks alone with a retinue of servants—so if I sell it, what about the furniture? It’s beautiful furniture, Mother—fine old
walnut and mahogany, some of it very rare, some of it antique. I’ve always admired it. Some of it I wouldn’t like to part with. All of it very lovely. My piano, too. What shall I do, put it in storage out there, or over here? Or sell it somewhere, or give it away? I don’t imagine it would bring much at a sale, except maybe the antiques, and those are the ones I like the best. Mother, if I should live with you, would you hate to have me bring any of it into your house?”

  “Hate!” said Betty who was listening, wide-eyed. “I should say not! Why, Marjorie, Mother has done nothing else since she went to Chicago but tell us how wonderfully that house was furnished. When she talked about getting new things for Brentwood she would always say ‘I’d like to get a couch and chairs like those Mrs. Wetherill had! They were wonderful!’ ”

  “Betty, dear!” reproached her mother.

  “Well, you did, Mother. You gave us the idea that there wasn’t anything more beautiful in the world than the furnishings of that house.”

  “Well, I felt that way,” said the mother, “but I was never envious. It just seemed to me that it was the most ideal way for a house to be furnished one could ever have.”

  “Yes, but, Mother, that’s not saying you would want another woman’s furniture in your own home. We could sell those things and buy some more, letting you pick out just what you want,” said Marjorie.

  “Why, my dear, I don’t think I have any feeling against those things. In fact, it would be lovely to live among them. They aren’t hers anymore, they are yours, as you said about your money. It would be foolish to have a dislike for them. I would be delighted to have them in the house and enjoy them. I mean that, dear! And if there is anything that you want to put away to keep, if you don’t think you want to use it now, there is plenty of room to store great quantities of furniture over the garage at Brentwood. It would be foolish for you to pay storage! If you come, of course!”

  “Yes, if I come,” said Marjorie, smiling. “Mother dear, I’m thinking that it will all rest in your hands whether I come or stay here. Because, remember, you promised to write the truth to me, too, after you have thought it over. As for me, I can’t see that my mind will change a particle.”