“You may tell Mrs. Tyler that Jemmy has run away and that I’m going down to the Lords’ to see if he is there,” Lora directed, and went out hurriedly.
The snow was not deep and the wheels of vehicles coming to last night’s party had packed it firm in places so that walking was not difficult. Nevertheless, unused to snow and icy ruts, Lora slipped once or twice and caught her balance with difficulty.
As she passed the opening to the uphill path she tried to tell whether Jemmy had gone that way, but Ambrose’s feet had left marks both ways and Jemmy might well have stepped into his tracks. At Serena’s she rang the bell and waited impatiently for a sleepy maid to come to the door.
No one but the boys were up as yet, the maid told Lora. After the late party last night the whole household was asleep. No, Jemmy Tyler was not here that she knew of.
As Lora hesitated, wondering where to turn next, Adam Hume came down the stairs.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, and then noted her expression. “Is anything wrong?”
She went to the foot of the stairs. “It’s Jemmy. He has disappeared. His grandmother tried to take the puppy away from him. He didn’t realize that I wouldn’t have let her take him. I’m afraid he has run away.”
“To his grandfather’s?” Adam asked.
“I thought of that. Peter has been sent to look. I’d hoped he might have come here. Do you know any place else?”
Adam leaned against the newel post, thinking, while the maid went away to her duties.
“I know one possibility. It’s not very sensible, but I’ve heard him mention it—and he might try.”
Lora would have questioned him, but he ran back up the stairs. “I’ll get into my coat and take the cutter. He might have gone downhill. Suppose you go home and I’ll drop in later, whether I find him or not.”
There was something comforting about Adam’s way of quick decision, quick action. She hurried back to the house and just as she reached the gate he drove by, saluting her with his whip. He was apparently never one to waste time or words.
Wade was waiting in the hall as she entered the house. He leaned upon his crutch, contrasted in his helplessness with her recent glimpse of Adam.
“If I could just get out and look myself—” he began.
She thrust the unfair comparison from her mind. “Adam has gone,” she told him. “Don’t worry. Jemmy can’t have gone far. The important thing is what we are going to do when he comes back.”
He returned her look coolly. “You realize that you have brought this whole thing upon us with your foolish act. Why didn’t you tell me what you were planning to do?”
“Because I wanted Jemmy to have a dog,” she said, and went past him up the stairs. She could hear the silver bell chiming its summons from the parlor again as she went into her room.
The puppy had left a puddle in the middle of the floor and he had managed to get a corner of the bed quilt between his sharp little teeth and make a nice pulpy mess. Lora sighed and went about cleaning up.
“It’s a good thing I’m convinced that you’re worth all this trouble you’re causing,” she said.
When she had taken off her things, she locked the puppy in the room again and went down to the parlor. Wade and his mother were in conference there and the old lady looked up angrily when Lora came in. Surprisingly, Wade smiled at his wife.
“I’m trying to persuade Mother that if we keep this little dog out of her sight and train it well from the beginning it will really not be much bother and will not intrude upon her at all. Apparently it means a great deal to Jemmy.”
“He should” not be rewarded for running away,” said Mrs. Tyler. “In any event no further argument or discussion is possible. I will not have a dog in this house and that is final.”
Lora went closer to the hearth and sat down on a low footstool, but her gaze did not leave the old woman’s face.
“Did you never have a pet of your own as a child?” she asked gently.
“My father did not believe it healthy to keep animals in the house. I agree with him thoroughly. When my husband was alive beasts overran the place and I wanted only to be rid of them.”
“Then I’m very sorry for you,” Lora said. “You’ve missed so much. Doc—my father, that is—always said a boy couldn’t grow up healthy unless he had a dog to love him.”
“Then your father was not a doctor I would care to consult,” Mrs. Tyler snapped.
That was probably true, Lora thought, though she said nothing. Doc’s notions would likely have shocked such a patient.
Before Mrs. Tyler could find further words the doorbell rang again and Lora sprang to her feet.
“That must be Adam. Perhaps—”
But Mother Tyler’s words stopped her before she reached the door. “Remember—the dog goes.”
“No,” said Wade, “he stays.”
Lora forgot the door and turned quickly, her eyes on Wade’s flushed face. “Do you mean that?”
“The dog stays,” he said again, looking at his mother. “He stays or Lora and Jemmy and I leave this house.”
They could hear Ellie in the hall, then Adam’s voice. Lora pulled open the parlor door and saw Adam stamping the snow from his feet on the mat, with Jemmy, little and cold, beside him.
“Jemmy!” she cried. “Come quickly where it’s warm. You’ve frightened us all. Come in, Adam.” She did not realize until she had spoken that she had dropped the “Mr.,” but formality did not seem to matter now.
Adam drew Jemmy into the warm room with him and said good morning to Wade and his mother.
“I found this young man on his way to Camp Herndon down on the flats. He was going to enlist in the Union Army as a drummer boy. It took a bit of persuading to get him to believe that they aren’t taking drummers quite so young as yet.”
“I’ll make them take me!” Jemmy looked about him with stormy eyes.
“The puppy will miss you, darling,” Lora said. “He’s upstairs in my room waiting for you now.”
Jemmy’s eyes widened in disbelief. “But Grandmother—”
“Your father says you are to keep him, Jemmy. Wade, tell him so!”
He turned a look of disbelief upon his father and Wade smiled a bit wanly. “That’s right, boy. No one is going to take the little dog away from you.”
Lora stole a hasty look at Mrs. Tyler. The old lady was watching Wade in outrage. Her face was crimson and she looked as if she might be holding her breath. There would still be trouble here.
But Jemmy waited for no other corroboration. He tore out of the room and Lora went after him, close to tears. She saw Adam’s look as she brushed past him, and for once there was no mockery in it, but only admiration. She did not care what Adam thought. She ran after Jemmy and found him tugging at her door.
When she had unlocked it, they went inside together. The puppy had taken to chewing on the rungs of a chair, but he turned from this interesting occupation to welcome them with joy. Down on his knees went Jemmy and already the little dog seemed to know the smell of his master for he paid no attention to Lora, but fairly leaped into Jemmy’s hands.
“He’s mine,” said Jemmy in wonder. “He’s really mine. That’s right, isn’t it, Lorie? Papa said so.”
Lora blinked the moisture from her eyes and sat down on the bed to watch this loving reunion. “That’s right, Jemmy. Now you’ll have to name him. We can’t go on calling him Puppy and ‘it.’”
Jemmy took his nose out of the puppy’s neck and held the small, wriggling body at arm’s length. But no name seemed to come to him.
“What do you think, Lorie?”
“Well—he has a white star in the middle of his forehead. You could call him Star. Or you could call him Spot, or—”
But Jemmy dismissed her list with a disapproving head-shake. “I don’t like dog names. I want a special name. If he was a little girl dog I might call him after you, Lorie. Because you gave him to me. Papa said I could keep him, but maybe it would mix
things up if I gave him Papa’s first name.”
“I think it very well might,” said Lora solemnly.
A light came into Jemmy’s eyes and he gave the puppy a little shake. “I know! I’ll call you Hamlin. Hamlin’s the hero in Papa’s book and that will do perfectly.”
Lora looked at him quickly. “You mean your papa has read you his story?”
“Well, no, not exactly,” said Jemmy, setting Hamlin down on the floor. “But it’s always in the library desk and so one afternoon I just read it.”
“Your Papa might not approve of that, you know. Not without his permission.”
“Mm,” said Jemmy doubtfully, and then poked the puppy with his toe. “But I want to call him for my father in some way.”
“You could keep his whole name secret for now,” Lora suggested, “and just shorten it to Ham.”
“Ham,” said Jemmy, trying it out thoughtfully. “Ham, come here, sir. Come here, Ham.”
The puppy cavorted over to him at once and put on a wriggling performance that nearly shook him in two.
“He knows that’s his name,” Jemmy said in delight. Then a sudden thought seemed to strike him and he looked at Lora. “When’s your birthday, Lorie?”
“Goodness! It’s not till July. Whatever made you ask?”
“We’ll have a party for you,” Jemmy cried. “And I’ll start making you a present today.”
“But this is Christmas,” Lora said. “And I have presents from you.”
“I know. But I want to do something special for you, Lorie. Like you’ve done something special for me.”
Her eyes misted again and she did not attempt to blink the tears away.
XV
Not until later did Lora know what had happened in the parlor that day after she and Jemmy had run upstairs. Mrs. Tyler had risen from her wheel chair before Wade could stop her, to take several steps across the room and collapse at his feet. She had been in bed ever since.
She had refused to see the doctor Wade had sent for, nor would she allow Lora to come near her. She simply lay on her pillow with her eyes closed most of the time, eating little, withdrawing from life. Lora suspected that the cure would be simple. They had only to get rid of Jemmy’s dog and his grandmother would recover promptly. But so far, to her surprise, Wade had refused to make this concession.
Not even. President Lincoln’s January first Proclamation of Emancipation, of which Mrs. Tyler had approved so intensely, served to rouse her interest.
“She is trying to die,” Wade said dully. “I’ve seen her do this before. That time when she fell downstairs. Sometimes I think she would rather die than not get her own way.”
He sat on the sofa before the library fire, while Lora stood at a window looking out at the thawing landscape. It was mid-January and after a stretch of extremely cold weather the sun had come out bright and warm. Snow ran in dirty rivulets down the hill and the road had turned to a sea of slush.
“She’s behaving like a spoiled child,” Lora said. “What happened when she fell downstairs? How long ago was that?”
“Immediately after my first marriage.” Wade leaned over absently to add more wood to the fire. “It was a shock to her when I married Virginia and after the fall she went very close to death.”
“How did she come out of it that time?”
Wade did not answer for a moment, remembering painfully. “Virginia managed it. She was so sweet and loving that no one could resist her. Not even Mother. Even she came to accept Virginia, though she could never forgive what she regarded as a lowly background.”
He sighed and Lora, hearing, went to him quickly and dropped on her knees beside him.
“You haven’t let me talk about it, my dear. But now I must. I think you were splendid on Christmas Day when you told Jemmy he could keep his dog. It has meant everything to him. I’m sure you must have noticed the change. He even whistles sometimes now, as a boy should, and he looks at you with his heart in his eyes. But you still hold him off, Wade. Why?”
He moved restlessly. “I’m not holding him off. It’s just that I—know nothing about small boys. I don’t know how to talk to him, or what to say.”
“Anyway you stood up for him. That’s what matters.”
He looked at her in the cool way that was growing familiar. “I didn’t do it for Jemmy alone. I’m trying to hold to something of myself this time. Always before, my mother has forced me to her pattern. And for me, that is a pattern of failure.”
She leaned against his knee, eager now, and earnest. “You must be what is right for you to be. Just as I must be what is right for me. Believe in yourself, Wade.”
The chill which put distance between them went out of his eyes. He rested a finger beneath her chin, tilting her head toward the lamplight. “You’re always so alive, Lora. I’ve felt that in you from the beginning. Perhaps that was the thing which drew me toward you when I was near death. Perhaps I thought you might help me to be alive again. When Virginia—”
“No,” she said, drawing away from the touch of his finger. “Not Virginia. Not me. You must do it yourself, Wade. That’s the only way there is.”
His smile was not altogether happy. “You’re still young enough to believe that a mountain can be moved if only you push at it hard enough.”
“Perhaps I do,” she said. “Perhaps it’s even true.”
He bent to kiss her cheek lightly and stood up. “I must go and read to Mother now. She pretends not to listen, but I think it pleases her nevertheless. Though in the end she’ll win, I’m afraid. She always does.”
“Not this time!” Lora cried valiantly. “Wade, what of your book? Don’t you work on it any more?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “But perhaps that’s only a dream—something make-believe. A waste of time.” He picked up a volume from the table and went out of the room.
Lora sat where she was on the hearthrug beside the sofa. The feeling of his kiss was still light on her cheek and she reached up to touch the place with her fingers. Strange that when he kissed her she could always feel more lonely than before. But her loneliness wasn’t important. If only there were some way in which she could really help him.
Just then there was a yelping and scampering up the front steps and she heard Jemmy coming home from school. She roused herself and went to the door of the library. It was wiser for both boy and dog to keep as quiet as possible when they came inside, but these days in his new confidence that his father would stand by him, Jemmy did not always remember.
Lora smiled and put a finger to her lips. But this time Jemmy did not need the warning. He bent to pat the little dog and soothe him so that he uttered only an excited yap or two. Then Jemmy peered down the hall and up the stairs with an exaggerated air of secrecy, before he beckoned Lora into the library. Once inside, he closed the door and held out an envelope to her.
“Rebecca brought it,” he said. “It’s a note from Morgan Le Fay. Rebecca saw me on the road when she came out of the woods and she said to give it to you when no one else was around. She’s waiting on the woods path for an answer.”
Lora slit the envelope with a brass paper knife from Wade’s desk. The note was brief Could Lora visit Morgan Channing any time this afternoon? Something important had come up and Lora’s help was urgently needed.
Why should she go? Lora wondered. She neither liked nor trusted this woman. And yet at the same time she was intrigued by her. The note was both puzzling and provoking, and it certainly aroused her curiosity. There could be no harm in at least finding out the reason behind this invitation.
“What is it?” Jemmy asked. “What does she want?”
Lora tore the note into small bits and dropped them into the fire. “Mrs. Channing wants me to come up to see her for a little while this afternoon. If Rebecca is waiting in the woods I’ll go back up the path with her now.”
Jemmy’s eyes took on a shine of conspiracy. “I won’t tell, Lora. If anybody asks I’ll say you’re having a nap in your roo
m.”
“Thank you, Jemmy,” she said quickly, “but of course you musn’t do that. I’d be very unhappy if you told fibs to keep me out of trouble. There’s nothing wrong about going up to see Mrs. Channing if I choose to do so.”
“Just the same, I won’t tell,” he promised her.
There was no convincing him that intrigue was not necessary in this house of intrigue and though she could not admit it to him, she would be glad of his silence until she had time to discover what Morgan Channing wanted.
For the last two weeks a seamstress had come daily to the house. In spite of Mother Tyler’s indifference to what went on, Wade had seen to the matter. As a consequence, Lora’s new wardrobe had begun to blossom and she could now put on a soft wool dress of turtle-dove gray, most stylishly made and trimmed with velvet of a darker shade. She felt quite another person in it, though she smiled at herself for gaining confidence from the mere donning of a new frock. At least she need not mount the hill today with the knowledge that she would seem dowdy and countrified beside the impressive Mrs. Channing. Her new bonnet was gray too, with a touch of warm pink color under the brim, and her gray mantle was far warmer than her old one.
Jemmy, playing with Hamlin on the drive before the house, looked up as she came down the steps.
“You look nice,” he said. “We’ll take you to Rebecca, Hamlin and I.”
Their course down the muddy road was somewhat less than elegant, but Jemmy was a help in guiding her along the least soggy patches of grass beside the road. Hamlin wallowed happily to his ears in mud and then had to be restrained from leaping upon Lora in the ecstasy of farewells.
“I’ll take him right home and give him a bath,” Jemmy promised. “Here’s Lora, Rebecca.”
Rebecca said good afternoon in her usual soft-voiced manner and turned at once to lead the way uphill. Lora waved to Jemmy and followed her. The springy path of dried leaves made more comfortable walking than the road, but Lora had to give considerable care to her swishing skirts.
As the young colored girl went ahead, straight-backed as Amanda Tyler, with her head held proudly high, Lora felt her old curiosity sweep back. More than once she had wondered about her life up there in the Channing mansion, wondered about her as a person.
The Quicksilver Pool Page 16