CHAPTER III
"I'm sure I don't know what you will think of my asking," said Shirleyexcitedly, "but I want very much to know whether there is anypossibility that you would rent a beautiful big stone barn you own outon the old Glenside Road, near Allister Avenue. You do own it, don'tyou? I was told you did, or at least that Mr. Walter Graham did. Theysaid it belonged to 'the estate.'"
"Well, now you've got one on me," said the young man with a mostengaging smile. "I'm sure I don't know whether I own it or not. I'msorry. But if it belongs to grandfather's estate,--his name wasWalter, too, you know.--why, I suppose I do own part of it. I'm sorryfather isn't here. He of course knows all about it--or theattorney--of course he would know. But I think he has left the office.However, that doesn't matter. What was it you wanted? To rent it, yousay?"
"Yes," said Shirley, feeling very small and very much an impostor;"that is, if I could afford it. I suppose perhaps it will be way aheadof my means, but I thought it wouldn't do any harm to ask." Her shyeyes were almost filled with tears, and the young man was deeplydistressed.
"Not at all, not at all," he hastened to say. "I'm just stupid that Idon't know about it. Where did you say it was? Out on the GlensideRoad? A barn? Come to think of it, I remember one of my uncles livedout that way once, and I know there is a lot of land somewhere outthere belonging to the estate. You say there is a barn on it?"
"Yes, a beautiful barn," said Shirley anxiously, her eyes dreamy andher cheeks like two glowing roses. "It is stone, and has a wide grassyroad like a great staircase leading up to it, and a tall tree over it.There is a brook just below,--it is high up from the road on a littlegrassy hill."
"Oh, yes, yes," he said, nodding eagerly, "I see! It almost seems asif I remember. And you wanted to rent it for the summer, you say? Youare--ah--in the agricultural business, I suppose?" He looked at herrespectfully. He knew the new woman, and honored her. He did not seemat all startled that she wanted to rent a barn for the summer.
But Shirley did not in the least understand. She looked at himbewildered a moment.
"Oh, no! I am only a stenographer myself--but my mother--that is----"she paused in confusion.
"Oh, I see, your mother is the farmer, I suppose. Your home is nearby--near to the barn you want to rent?"
Then she understood.
"No, oh, no!" she said desperately. "We don't want to use the barn fora barn at all. I want to use it for a house!"
It was out at last, the horrible truth; and she sat trembling to seehis look of amazement.
"Use it for a house!" he exclaimed. "Why, how could you? To live in,do you mean? or just to take a tent and camp out there for a few days?"
"To _live in_," said Shirley doggedly, lifting her eyes in one swiftdefiant look and then dropping them to her shabby gloves and thinpocketbook, empty now even of the last precious nickel. If he saidanything more, she was sure she should cry. If he patronized her theleast little bit, or grew haughty, now that he saw how low she wasreduced, she would turn and fly from the office and never look him inthe face.
But he did neither. Instead, he just talked in a natural tone, as ifit were the most common thing in the world for a girl to want to livein a barn, and nothing to be surprised over in the least.
"Oh, I see," he said pleasantly. "Well, now, that might be arranged,you know. Of course I don't know much about things, but I could findout. You see, I don't suppose we often have calls to rent the propertythat way----"
"No, of course not," said Shirley, gathering up her scatteredconfidence. "I know it's queer for me to ask, but we have tomove--they are going to build an apartment-house where we are rentingnow, and mother is sick. I should like to get her out into thecountry, our house is so little and dark; and I thought, if she couldbe all summer where she could see the sky and hear the birds, she mightget well. I want to get my little sisters and brothers out of thecity, too. But we couldn't likely pay enough rent. I suppose it wassilly of me to ask."
"Not at all!" said the young man courteously, as though she had been aqueen whom he delighted to honor. "I don't see why we shouldn't beable to get together on some kind of a proposition--that is, unlessfather has other plans that I don't know about. A barn ought not to beworth such a big price. How much would you feel like paying?"
He was studying the girl before him with interested eyes; noting thewell-set head on the pretty shoulders, even in spite of the ill-fittingshabby blue coat; the delicate features; the glint of gold in the softbrown hair; the tilt of the firm little chin, and the wistfulness inthe big blue eyes. This was a new kind of girl, and he was disposed togive her what she wanted if he could. And he _could_. He knew wellthat anything he willed mightily would not be denied him.
The frightened color came into the delicate cheeks again, and the blueeyes fluttered down ashamedly.
"We are only paying fifteen a month now," she said; "and I couldn't payany more, for we haven't got it. I couldn't pay _as much_, for itwould cost sixty cents a week apiece for George and me to come in toour work from there. I couldn't pay more than twelve! and I knowthat's ridiculous for such a great big, beautiful place, but--I _had_to ask."
She lifted her eyes swiftly in apology, and dropped them again; theyoung man felt a glow of sympathy for her, and a deep desire to helpher have her wish.
"Why, certainly," he said heartily. "Of course you did. And it's notridiculous at all for you to make a business proposition of any kind.You say what you can do, and we accept it or not as we like. That'sour lookout. Now of course I can't answer about this until I'veconsulted father; and, not knowing the place well, I haven't the leastidea what it's worth; it may not be worth even twelve dollars." (Hemade a mental reservation that it _should_ not be if he could help it.)"Suppose I consult with father and let you know. Could I write orphone you, or will you be around this way any time to-morrow?"
Shirley's breath was fairly gone with the realization that he wasactually considering her proposition in earnest. He had not laughed ather for wanting to live in a barn, and he had not turned down the priceshe offered as impossible! He was looking at her in a kindly way as ifhe liked her for being frank.
"Why, yes," she said, looking up shyly, "I can come in to-morrow at mynoon hour--if that would not be too soon. I always have a little timeto myself then, and it isn't far from the office."
"That will be perfectly all right for me," smiled young Graham. "Ishall be here till half-past one, and you can ask the boy to show youto my office. I will consult with father the first thing in themorning and be ready to give you an answer. But I am wondering if youhave seen this barn, I suppose you have, or you would not want to rentit; but I should suppose a barn would be an awfully unpleasant place tolive, kind of almost impossible. Are you sure you realize what theproposition would be?"
"Yes, I think so," said Shirley, looking troubled and earnest. "It isa beautiful big place, and the outlook is wonderful. I was thereto-day, and found a door open at the back, and went in to look around.The up-stairs middle floor is so big we could make several rooms out ofit with screens and curtains. It would be lovely. We could live inpicnic style. Yes, I'm sure mother would like it. I haven't told herabout it yet, because if I couldn't afford it I didn't want todisappoint her; so I thought I would wait till I found out; but I'mjust about certain she would be delighted. And anyhow we've _got_ togo _somewhere_."
"I see," said this courteous young man, trying not to show hisamazement and delight in the girl who so coolly discussed living in abarn with curtains and screens for partitions. He thought of his ownluxurious home and his comfortable life, where every need had beensupplied even before he realized it, and, wondering again, wasrefreshed in soul by this glimpse into the brave heart of the girl.
"Then I will expect you," he said pleasantly, and, opening the door,escorted her to the elevator, touching his hat to her as he left her.
Shirley would not have been a normal girl if she had not felt the
leastflutter in her heart at the attention he showed her and the pleasanttones of his voice. It was for all the world as if she had been a ladydressed in broadcloth and fur. She looked down at her shabby littleserge suit--that had done duty all winter with an old gray sweaterunder it--half in shame and half in pride in the man who had not let ithinder him from giving her honor. He was a _man_. He must be. Shehad bared her poverty-stricken life to his gaze, and he had not takenadvantage of it. He had averted his eyes, and acted as if it were justlike other lives and others' necessities; and he had made her feel thatshe was just as good as any one with whom he had to deal.
Well, it was probably only a manner, a kind of refined, courteous habithe had; but it was lovely, and she was going to enjoy the bit of itthat had fallen at her feet.
On the whole, Shirley walked the ten blocks to her narrow little homefeeling that she had had a good day. She was weary, but it was ahealthy weariness. The problem which had been pressing on her brainfor days, and nights too, did not seem so impossible now, and hope wasin her heart that somehow she would find a way out. It had been goodto get away from the office and the busy monotony and go out into thewide, open out-of-doors. It was good also to meet a real nobleman,even if it were only in passing, and on business.
She decided not to tell her mother and the children of her outing yet,not until she was sure there were to be results. Besides, it mightonly worry her mother the more and give her a sleepless night if shelet out the secret about the barn.
One more little touch of pleasantness there came to make this day standout from others as beautiful. It was when she turned into ChapelStreet, and was swinging along rapidly in order to get home at herusual time and not alarm her mother, that a car rolled quickly past tothe middle of the block, and stopped just under a street-light. In amoment more a lady came out of the door of a house, entered the car,and was driven away. As she closed the car-door, Shirley fancied shesaw something drop from the lady's hand. When Shirley reached theplace she found it was two great, luscious pink rosebuds that must haveslipped from the lady's corsage and fallen on the pavement. Shirleypicked them up almost reverently, inhaling their exotic breath, andtaking in their delicate curves and texture. Then she looked after thelimousine. It was three blocks away and just turning into anotherstreet. It would be impossible for her to overtake it, and there waslittle likelihood of the lady's returning for two roses. Probably shewould never miss them. Shirley turned toward the house, thinking sheought to take them in, but discovered that it bore the name of afashionable modiste, who would, of course, not have any right to theroses, and Shirley's conscience decided they were meant by Providencefor her. So, happily, she hurried on to the little brick house,bearing the wonderful flowers to her mother.
She hurried so fast that she reached home ten minutes earlier thanusual, and they all gathered around her eagerly as if it were somegreat event, the mother calling half fearfully from her bedroomup-stairs to know whether anything had happened. She was alwaysexpecting some new calamity like sickness, or the loss of theirpositions by one or the other of her children.
"Nothing at all the matter, mother dear!" called Shirley happily as shehung up her coat and hat, and hugged Doris. "I got off earlier thanusual because Mr. Barnard had to go away. Just see what a beautifulthing I have brought you--found it on the street, dropped by abeautiful lady. You needn't be afraid of them, for she and herlimousine looked perfectly hygienic; and it wasn't stealing, because Icouldn't possibly have caught her. Aren't they lovely?"
By this time she was up in her mother's room, with Doris and Carolfollowing close behind exclaiming in delight over the roses.
She kissed her mother, and put the flowers into a glass beside the bed.
"You're looking better to-night, I believe, dear," said the mother."I've been worried about you all day. You were so white and tired thismorning."
"Oh, I'm feeling fine, mother dear!" said Shirley gayly, "and I'm goingdown to make your toast and poach you an egg while Carol finishesgetting supper. George will be here in ten minutes now, and Harleyought to be in any minute. He always comes when he gets hungry. My!I'm hungry myself! Let's hurry, Carol. Doris, darling, you fixmother's little table all ready for her tray. Put on the white cloth,take away the books, set the glass with the roses in the middle verycarefully. You won't spill it, will you, darling?"
Doris, all smiles at the responsibility accorded her, promised: "No, Iyun't spill it I'll move it tarefully."
There was something in Shirley's buoyant air that night that liftedthem all above the cares that had oppressed them for weeks, and gavethem new hope. She flew around, getting the supper things together,making her mother's tray pretty, and taking little extra pains for eachone as she had not felt able to do before. Carol caught the contagion,and mashed the potatoes more carefully, so that there wasn't a singlelump in them.
"Goodness! But it's been hot in this kitchen all day, Shirley," saidCarol. "I had the back door open, but it just seemed stifling. I gotthe ironing all done except a table-cloth, and I guess I can finishthat this evening. I haven't got much studying to do for to-morrow.Nellie Waite stopped, and left me my books. I don't believe I'll haveto stay at home another day this week. Mother says she can get along.I can leave her lunch all ready, and Doris can manage."
Shirley's conscience gave a sudden twinge. Here had she been sittingunder a lovely tree by a brook, eating her lunch, and dreaming foolishday-dreams about living in a barn, while Carol stayed at home fromschool and toiled in the kitchen! Perhaps she ought to have come homeand sent Carol back to school. And yet perhaps that nice young Mr.Graham would be able to do something; she would not condemn herselfuntil the morrow, anyway. She had tried to do her best. She had notgone off there selfishly just to have a good time by herself when herdear ones were suffering. It had been for their sake.
Then George came in whistling, and Harley banged in gayly a minutelater, calling to know whether supper was ready.
"'Cause I gotta date with the fellas this evening, and I gotta beatit," he declared impatiently.
The shadow of anxiety passed over Shirley's face again at that, but shequieted her heart once more with her hopes for to-morrow. If her plansucceeded, Harley would be away from "the fellas," and wouldn't have somany questionable "dates" to worry them all.
George was in a hurry, too.
"Gee, Shirley, I gotta be at the store all evening," he said, boltinghis food hurriedly. "I wouldn't 'a' come home, only I knew you'dworry, and mother gets so upset. Gee, Shirley, what we gonta do abouta house? It's getting almost time to move. I went to all those placesyou suggested at noon to-day, but there wasn't a vacant spot anywhere.There's some rooms on Louden Street, but there's all sorts in thehouse. Mother wouldn't like it. It's dirty besides. I suppose if welook long enough we could find rooms; but we'd have to get along withonly two or three, for they come awful high. We'd have to have threeanyway, you girls and mother in one, us boys in the other, and one forparlor and kitchen together. Gee! Wouldn't that be fierce? I oughttaget a better job. We can't live that way."
"Don't worry, George; I think we'll find something better," saidShirley with a hopeful ring in her voice. "I've been thinking out aplan. I haven't got it all just arranged in my mind yet, but I'll tellyou about it pretty soon. You don't have school to-morrow night, doyou? No, I thought not. Well, maybe we can talk it over then. Youand I will have to go out together and look up a place perhaps," andshe smiled an encouraging smile, and sent him off to his school happily.
She extracted a promise from Harley that he would be in by nineo'clock, discovered that he was only going to a "movie" show around thecorner with one of the fellows who was going to "stand treat" onaccount of a wonderful ball game they had won, found out where hislessons were for the morrow, promised to help him when he returned, andsent him away with a feeling of comfort and responsibility to returnearly. She washed the dishes and ironed the table-cloth so Carol couldgo to her l
essons. Then she went up and put Doris to bed with a storyabout a little bird that built a nest in a tall, beautiful tree thatgrew beside the place where the little girl lived; a little bird thatdrank from a little running brook, and took a bath on its pebbly shore,and ate the crumbs and berries the little girl gave it, and sat all dayon five little blue eggs.
Harley came in at five minutes after nine, and did his lessons with herhelp. George came home just as they finished. He was whistling,though he looked tired. He said "the prof." had been "the limit" allthe evening. Shirley fixed her mother comfortably for the night, andwent at last to her own bed, more tired than she had been for weeks,and yet more happy. For through it all she had been sustained by ahope; inspired by a cultured, pleasant voice, and eyes that wanted tohelp, and seemed to understand.
As she closed her eyes to sleep, somehow that pleasant voice and thosekind eyes mingled with her dreams, and seemed to promise relief fromher great anxieties.
It was with a feeling of excitement and anticipation that she dressedthe next morning and hurried away. Something was coming, she feltsure, some help for their trying situation. She had felt it when sheknelt for her usual prayer that morning, and it throbbed in her excitedheart as she hurried through the streets to the office. It almostfrightened her to feel so sure, for she knew how terrible would be thedisappointment if she got her hopes too high.
There was plenty to be done at the office, a great many letters toanswer, and a telegram with directions from Mr. Barnard. But sheworked with more ease than for some time, and was done by half-pasteleven. When she took the letters out to Mr. Clegg to be signed, hetold her that she would not be needed the rest of the day, and might goat once if she chose.
She ate her bit of lunch hurriedly, and made herself as fresh and tidyas was possible in the office. Then she took her way to the fourthfloor of the Ward Trust Building. With throbbing heart and glowingcheeks she entered the office of Walter Graham, and asked for Mr.Sidney Graham.
The office-boy had evidently received instructions, for he bowed mostrespectfully this time, and led her at once to the inner office.
The Enchanted Barn Page 3